Sophistemon

Ethan's eyes widened, then narrowed as he gunned the engine on his bike. "Mantis?" he whispered, too quietly for Adept to hear. He put the helmet on and floored it, the tires of his motorbike kicking plumes of snow back into the garage as he sped away. Dangerous? Yes, certainly, but far too necessary to avoid. His family was at stake, and if the scythe-armed cyborg had returned from near-death to seek revenge... Adept might not be enough to contain him. As he maneuvered down the street, hoping his partner could at least delay their foe long enough to return with backup, he reached up and tapped the comm-link embedded in his headgear. "Mayday!" he shouted. "We're under attack. One bogie, so far. Adept's engaged but we need the AMP. I'm on my way; have it ready for when I get there." Adept spied movement in the dark as Ethan's rear lights disappeared into the black like a fading red star. There. The interloper had regained his footing and stood tall in the snow. He had either regained his blade, or fashioned a new one... and one other, as now both arms had released a glowing, red-hot weapon that hissed and spit sparks in the damp. Adept concentrated for a moment, unleashing a portion of the psionic storm inside his head, lashing out with his mind and willing his enemy to hurt. But his armored foe appeared more prepared this time, as the plating that covered his body ones more tightened along his frame to protect him from harm. "Mistake," chided the cyborg. "Should have run. Now you die." A port opened on one shoulder and began to glow. Half a moment later, a dazzling red laser erupted from the barrel and lanced through the sky at the floating agent.

Toughness Save: 1d20+15 29. Attack Roll: Penetrating Blast (DC 27): 1d20+12 24.

@Blarghy There are three characters missing, one currently found: Rhekgar. The other two are Dirk Saber and Helen Ridley. @Avenger Assembled No, that ought to do it for now, AA. I've delayed the climax long enough as it is.

@Avenger Assembled & @Blarghy Sea-Devil's armored body is engulfed in crackling electricity and she glows, briefly, with a scintillating blue light that fills the tunnel with a eye-searing luminescence. Power pumps through her, not nearly as much as she's handled before, but enough that she feels it tingling along her skin in a way that would cause a mammal's hair to rise. Somewhere within the complex there originates the sound of great machinery coming back to life or, more likely, waking from slumber. Electric lights ignite and stay lit even as the power wanes, the backup generators taking over for the primary source. The tingling fades with the electricity, leaving Sea-Devil none the worse for wear. Adept blinks the spots from his eyes just in time to see her remove her trident from the wall after having powered through enough electricity to have ended a mundane human being. @Heritage Electricity can be heard from the tunnel and the barbarian whips his head around and peers through the darkness at the tunnel, where a blue light can be seen. It fades, but other lights take its place and fill the complex with a warm white glow. He turns to stare down at Casey and now, in the light, he appears even more impressive. Firm skin stretches over hard muscle and he appears none the worse for wear after his imprisonment. Forlorn, perhaps, and a little disheveled -- but being disheveled suits him in a way it wouldn't a more civilized man. "The beast awakens," he said. "The bars, my lady, quickly. I'll be no use to you in here when the master of this place returns." He takes a step back and indicates the barrier between them. "And he will return, to set right the disruption you've caused. Hurry, we must make haste to free my fellow captives... and I must reclaim my truncheon."

Ethan stood, placed both hands at the small of his back, and stretched his spine until the vertebrae popped. "Finally," he said. "That was taking forever." He smiled, behind the blankness of his helmet. "Here I thought you were being clever, but it was just everyday good-old-fashioned evasiveness." He strode towards the man with purposeful steps and stopped just short of walking into him. He looked down at Green and quirked his head. "Honestly," he said. "I wish you'd been honest from the beginning. It really does go easier on you that way." He turned to his partner. "Got your cuffs, or do you plan to use the Tee-Kay?"

Samuel thinned his lips and approached. In one hand he held his phone, still emitting a pale electronic light. In the other he gripped his wand, a shaft of black wood tipped at both ends with silver caps. Just holding the thing gave him a small degree of much-needed comfort. Freudian connotations aside, he felt much more secure and sure of himself when he was armed with his mystic paraphernalia. He walked softly, in part to avoid drawing unwanted attention to himself, but mostly so that he could hear someone -- or something -- approaching. The last thing he wanted was to be caught unawares. Warne's mind was a powerful thing; he knew as much from his first adventure with the man, when they'd encountered Baku and earned his current wrath. The magician didn't want to be on the receiving end of any more of the telekinetic's subconscious constructs, though he had the feeling such a meeting was inevitable. In more normal circumstances he would have uttered a word of power and teleported himself to the two men, where he could eavesdrop on them without the hassle of walking, but to use his magic here would alert Warne's mental defenses and, while they were purely imaginary, they were all too deadly within the confines of the mind.

Presto quirked his head and looked around, silver eyes shining. He frowned, and the unfamiliar expression warped the carefully groomed contours of his goatee. "A basement, now," he murmured to himself. "An old one." He sucked in a breath and tasted the mustiness in the air, the dust and age that permeated the illusion he was experiencing. He wrinkled his nose and stifled a cough before pushing his free hand flat against the wood of the door. "All right," he told himself. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained. This is for Warne... and for Baku, I guess." He took another breath, to psych himself up, and pushed the door open. As it swung, he pivoted and pressed his back to the wall beside it, just in case something came through. Breathing softly, he waited.

"We don't need to tell you how dangerous nuclear power can be, do we?" quipped Stone. "Useful, sure, and generally safe, but that's when people aren't attacking the facilities and attempting to shut down half the country over some misguided environmentalism, am I right?" He placed his hands flat against the surface of the table. "Nobody wants a repeat performance of the earlier mishap, Mister Green. Personally, I respect what you do here. One look at me and you can tell I'm a bit of a gearhead, right? So believe me when I say I love this stuff, and I know just how beneficial nuclear power can be -- it beats the heck out of coal, anyway, and it'll last us much longer than oil in the long run if only we'd led it. Our primary interest is in putting this matter to rest as quickly and cleanly as possible, with as few bumps in the road as we can manage. That'd be best for everyone; the last thing we need is a scandal, or another attack."

The way I envision things, which may not be entirely canonical to the site, is that the Stones live in a heavily personalized prefabricated building mass-produced by the handful on the outskirts of the Lonely Point Naval Base facility. It's an artificial neighborhood to house the families of the personnel that live and work on the base. Being the holidays, it's likely that many of Stone's neighbors are off in more accommodating environments, gone to stay with other family. As for whether or not the interloper is in view, I'd say no, but only just barely. The distance he was thrown took him beyond the light cast by the streetlamps -- and remember that it is snowing a bit, further obscuring vision. He'd be within Perception range if you went after him a bit; say, half a standard movement?

Game Master: Heavy Metal Christmas. (Please allocate points to Upgrade) Lights, Camera, Action! (Please allocate points to Punchline) Viva Val Verde! (Please allocate points to Presto the Preposterous) Presto the Preposterous: Psichology. Upgrade: Irradiated Intervention.

Warne? Attending a party? The idea was almost alien in scope, so far was it beyond the ken of mortals. And was that a laugh? "When was this?" Presto mused, as he followed the sound of voices. Regardless, a little bit of levity would be a welcome distraction from the grim nature of his visit to this, the dark recesses of the mind of a dreadfully damaged man. The magician sighed as he approached, and glanced over his shoulder. He wasn't normally paranoid, but he felt it likely something might be sneaking up on him -- if not literally, then metaphorically. Things had gone from bad to worse since he'd set food within Warne's subconscious, and it was only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped and the frantic, screaming terror started up all over again.

The armored plates compressed, syncing down into a tight sheath of protective metal that spared the intruder the bulk of Adept's psionic force. But there was little they could do to prevent the telekinetic lift, or the subsequent throw. Servos whined and micro-thrusters fired in a futile attempt to escape. If Adept could feel through his telekinetic power, he would note the armored man was much stronger than his build would indicate. It was for nothing, though, as he was hoisted into the air and thrown in the direction of his discarded blade. He was "Going to reactivate your nervous system now," said the doctor. "There might be some momentary discomfort while the system calibrates." A switch was flipped, and agony tore through his frame like cold fire, arcing from one artificial nerve to the next in a cascading current of pain. He shrieked into the gag and thrashed his ruined body against the operating table, tearing free the IV that fed him saline and nutrients in such a way that the hole wept blood. The doctor sniffed and deactivated the machine. "Really, I thought you were a soldier," he scoffed. "If you can't handle a little pain then this was all for nothing." falling, his thrusters unable to cope with the force of the telekinetic throw, and landed in a snowbank with a cushioned thud. He rolled, took to his feet, and snarled. "Not for nothing," he told himself. "Not ever again!" He lifted himself into the air and kicked the boosters, jet engines screaming into the night as he flew back to the house. There was no time to waste; he had people to kill and a debt to repay. The garage door opened and Ethan reappeared, leather jacket warn over his tee-shirt and a helmet held in the crook of one arm. "Warne?" he called, and kicked the engine of his bike. "Warne, where are you? Is it taken care of?"

I'm interested in seeing what Sea Devil can do, if you're willing to take a crack at it.

"Definitely," Upgrade concurred. "Now, a man's got to do what a man's got to do and all, but if someone stole my ride I'd report it pretty darn quick." He looked over at Adept and shrugged. "Then again, nobody's brave enough to tough my baby. Not when I'm around to do anything about it, anyway." He turned again to look at Green and quirked his head. Something about the man was giving him pause, but he couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was. If he were Warne, he'd probably narrow it down to a purposeful evasiveness. But was that out of a genuine discomfort due to dealing with authorities, or was he hiding something and up to no good? He moved his foot over and thumped his boot into Adept's shoe, then lifted his chin to indicate Green. Trouble? he hoped to imply.

@Avenger Assembled There is enough light filtering in from the entrance of the tunnel for Sea Devil to see things quite clearly, although there's not a whole lot to see. The most interesting thing is the man using his telekinesis to float in midair about a foot below you.

@Avenger Assembled Sea Devil's powerful legs propelled her over the head of the startled mother and toward the hole drilled in the floor by Miracle Girl's rotating entrance. Her adhesive skin adhered to the uneven walls of the impromptu tunnel and she began her descent in earnest. She went down, down, her sticky flesh slapping wetly against the hand- and footholds she found by probing touch, until she found herself nearly bumping into Adept, who hovered in midair and inspected a damaged cable jutting from the wall. It spit sparks into the dark, and Sea Devil could feel her skin crawl with apprehension. @Blarghy There were sounds in the tunnel, wet slaps and the occasional grunt of exertion that echoed like ghosts. The agent could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and it wasn't until he realized who it was before he allowed himself to relax -- or to come closer to relaxing than before. When Sea Devil made her entrance, nearly bumping into the top of Warne's head before stopping her climb, the cable surged with power and threw another arc of sparks into the tunnel. Below them both, a conversation was being held. They could hear the sound of voices, but not make out the words. @Heritage There was silence, save for breathing, and that breath was slow and pregnant with anticipation. Finally, Rhekgar spoke. "If our lives are nought but stories," he mused. "We are best to end them well." He placed a wide hand on the ground beneath him and pushed regain his footing. Once standing, he approached Miracle Girl and she could see clearly just how much more he was than she'd expected. He didn't look like the actor that played him in the films. Rather, he looked like who that actor was trying to resemble, larger than life and even more impressive. He reached out and gripped the bars that stood between them. "I am mighty," he told her. "But yet mortal. This cage is beyond my power, or I would have escaped days ago." He tilted his head, using his chiseled features to indicate the hole in the ceiling created by her entry. "You are mightier than I; release me, and I pledge to you my service."

Go right ahead.

That sounds like a good idea, Heritage. Would you like to spend your Hero Point, or see if the current role was enough?

Ethan inclined his head. "If this 'Gas Man' is who you go to when you want a job done quickly, who do you contact if you want a job done well?" There was a moment's pause before he spoke again. "I'd be interesting in seeing your list. You never know when outside sources might be a valuable asset." Once it was in their possession, AEGIS could cross-reference the list with known criminals and their associates. At some point, something should turn up. He hoped, but didn't consider it likely, that the Green Dragon would be presented front and center as a Neutron collaborator, but it would make things easier if he were.

@Heritage While most of the guards stayed behind to assist the taxi driver with removing his recently enchanted vehicle from the finely-kept lawn of the Presidential Palace, the Captain motioned and two others walked with the vacationing magicians. The Captain led the group, but the two others carried the luggage and fell behind, their fingers flexing in anticipation of trouble. Presto the Preposterous was a beloved figure on Val Verde, a friend of both the current and former President, but he was still a criminal, and his associates -- although lovely -- were unknown. It was better to be safe than sorry. Presto, for his part, was flicking his eyes back and forth as they walked, noting the change in scenery. The interior of the Palace was oddly bare, and here and there the walls had discolorations that marked the previous presence of artwork or photographs. Samuel leaned toward Lynn and whispered. "There were paintings," he said. "All along this hallway." He pointed a gloved finger up, at a utilitarian recessed ceiling lamp. "And chandeliers. Crystal ones. What's happened here?" @Blarghy The soldier smiled. "Aha!" he said. "You know the right things to say. That will serve you well with Gallo; he likes a smooth-talker." He reached and gave the car a gentle thump, to alert the driver. "Go on, now. Welcome to Val Verde, senor. Enjoy your stay, but keep out of trouble. I'd hate to have to meet you again under less pleasant circumstances." He took a step back as the driver brought the engine to life, and stared at Warne through the rear window as the taxi pulled away. The driver, to his credit, didn't grumble about the lost revenue. "They do a good job," he said, referring to the soldiers. "Gallo, he is like a father to them. They'd follow him barefoot into Hell -- and he'd lead them back out again." The driver was smiling. "You have come to the island at a good time, senor. Things are changing, getting better. It's not perfect, but nothing is. There will come a day when Val Verde's history is just that, history, and people will respect what we have done to move past it and better ourselves."

The mental assault took the interloper by surprise, bashing into him with unimaginable force. He was pushed backwards across the roof, leaving furrows in the snow as he approached the edge, but planted his feet at the last moment and held what was left of his tenuous position. Warne, who had seen his mind tear even the most durable of things apart with the greatest of ease, is mildly unnerved to see that not occur here. The segmented armor plating that adorned the assassin's body, protecting what remained of the flesh beneath, functioned as intended. It folded beneath the assault, pressing close to the body, and weathered Adept's psionic attack. He looked at Warne, his placid mask of a face unreadable, and spread his arms so that the burning blades hissed in the snow. "Unwise," he growled. "But not unexpected. Two deaths, today. Maybe more. You could have stopped this, Warne. It could have been clean. Now, it won't be." With that, the assailant raised one of his arms, pointed the smoldering blade at Warne, and tilted his wrist. The red-hot knife launched from its housing in a blazing streak; if Warne didn't move, it would be a most uncomfortable impalement. Down below, Ethan started at Warne's shout. That word, 'intruder,' sent a spark of cold fire sizzling down his back. He threw the door back open and dashed back into the house, already dialing his cellphone as he went. His daughter stood in the foyer, her eyes wide, and he scooped her up with his free hand, hoisting the giggling child over one shoulder like a sack of presents. "Meryl!" he called, trying to keep his daughter calm. "Meryl, I need you to take Lilly to the basement, okay? Get Buck and wait for me to come back." Meryl's face went white, and she took her daughter from her husband and thinned her lips. "What's going on, Ethan?" she asked. "Who's here?" Her husband shook his head. "I don't know, but I'm going to take care of it, okay? Warne's already up there; I'm going to call the base and let them know what's happening. I just want you safe, okay?"

I sincerely hope you can forgive me. Toughness Save: 1d20+15 31. Attack Roll; Penetrating Blast; DC27: 1d20+12 19.

@Blarghy The soldier looked over the passport, turning it this way and that in the bright tropical sun, before handing it back through the window. "Everything seems to be in order," he said. "Welcome to Val Verde, senor Chavez. Are you here for business or pleasure?" The driver sighed and began to drum his fingers against the steering wheel. He had turned off the taximeter, and was now committed to losing money until they were once again underway. @Heritage Presto nodded, grinning that winning grin. "Of course!" he reassured her. "No problemo. Gentlemen, watch here." He motioned with both hands, then snapped the fingers of his right. The letter, a slip of folded paper, appeared with a brief pop. The guards stirred, surprised, but smiled. Some even clapped, and Sam's smile widened in response to the attention. He handed the letter to the lead guard, who opened it and read. His posture shifted, and he held the paper to the sun to check for watermarks before handing it back. "Everything seems to be in order," he said. "Welcome back to Val Verde, senor Steiner. Come, we'll get you settled in and alert El Presidente to your arrival." He motioned to the car, and a few of the guards holstered their weapons and removed the luggage from the trunk. One of them passed a bundle of brightly colored currency to the driver, whose face brightened enormously. "That's too kind of you," said Sam, but he didn't discourage the treatment. He looked to the girls and winked. "See?" he asked them. "Didn't I tell you this place was great?"

@Avenger Assembled The women looked at one another, red-painted lips parted in surprise. The older of the two dropped to her knees, adjusting her dress for modesty, and began to gather the scattered cookies. "Oh," she puffed. "Oh, what a waste. Now I'll have to make more." Punchline watched, his own red lips pulled down in a slight frown. Everywhere he went, it seemed, nobody wanted him there. He moved towards her and, with a rather unnervingly fluid grace, sank to the floor and began to help. The younger of the two, the daughter, had her eyes focused on Sea Devil, before looking back down at her schoolwork. Neither woman appeared willing to acknowledge Miracle Girl's entrance into their home. "Save us from who?" asked the daughter, her voice rising at the end. "What intentions?" She paused, and took a moment to think. "You don't mean my brother Jason?" @Heritage The voice huffed a dry, humorless laugh. "You're wrong," it proclaimed. "You aren't real. Nothing is." Casey's infravision cut through the darkness and found the source of the melancholy. A man, a large man, was seated in the corner of a cell not a few feet from her position with his back pressed against the juncture of walls. "I used to think I was Rhekgar the Raider," said the man. "Slayer of hundreds, savior of thousands. Heir to Eagland-of-Old." A hand, glowing like molten fire in Casey's stupendous senses, reached up to tug fitfully at a lock of matted hair. "I am not that man," moaned the warrior. "I am a figment of that man, as you are a figment of some higher power." He barked another mocking laugh. "We were never meant to meet our gods," he mused. "We disappoint them, and they us." @Blarghy Adept descended slowly, taking in the path made through the earth by Miracle Girl's drilling passage. He could reach out and run a hand against the shredded metal of the complex's ceiling, were he not mildly concerned about lacerations. The young woman was impressively powerful, and he was right in his assumption that she'd make a fine addition to the organization. He could hear talking as he descended. A gruff, humorless voice answered by Casey's more melodic one. He thought, for a second, the unknown voice might be that of the Fanatic, but it lacked the metallic, mechanical inflection. There was some light to see by, pouring down the passage from above, but the way below was hazy. A split wire spit sparks to his left, and the thought occurred to Adept that their entrance might have unforeseen consequences.

Darkness crept in, without and within, as Presto descended the stairs. He thought about lighting the way, of holding his wand aloft and conjuring a bright silver flame, but decided against it. He was already approaching the lair of the enemy, and if his trips through trap-ridden temples had taught him anything, it's that the element of surprise is the most valuable weapon of all. Instead, he reached into a pocket and withdrew his battered old cellphone. It was only just barely smart, but it did have a flash. He set the light to its lowest setting, just high enough that he wouldn't trip over a step, and kept going. He blocked the screen with one hand, and hoped it would be enough to keep his position a secret from whatever it was waiting for him below.