Shadowboxer

I'm going to make some popcorn and watch the drama unfold. Nightrival has said everything he's going to say at this point. :)

Nightrival is absorbing what Velocity and Hub have said, and is formulating a reply to Velocity when Grim stands up and confronts the speedster, interrupting his thoughts. He's not worried about a possible fight, though the thought crossed his mind; he's more concerned about Grim's heart. She does fight the good fight every night, and she's earned her stripes, but he is surprised that Velocity can evoke such rage in someone who is clearly an accomplished crime-fighter. He slowly stands up and walks a few steps to stand behind Grim. "Grim, c'mon - " The words get stuck in his throat. He backs away. I . . . I should let 'em sort this out themselves.

Nightrival squints one eye as he looks Heavy up and down. 'E's a bit tougher than I thought. He braces his arm for another strike when he hears the women screaming at Willie, followed by a someone hitting the floor rather heavily. Willie is scum, but oddly enough he's valuable scum. If Nightrival can exert enough pressure on the crook, he could become a key informant for the vigilante. Willie is no good ta me dead, he decides. Besides, Nightrival is no killer. He swore a long time ago that no one will die by his hand or by his negligence, even if they're despicable criminals like Willie. What th' heck did they do ta 'im? Pepper spray? He jumps up and somersaults over the hulking thug, with one hand on Heavy's shoulder like a vaulting horse. Dropping between Willie and his assailants, Nightrival draws up his fists like a seasoned boxer. "Get outta 'ere!" he snarls at the two women.

That's how I roll. ;)

Tell me about it. I'm going to have to sneak into the family manor at night and secretly install some internet.

I'm visiting family for a few days and they don't have an internet connection. I have to run to a local cafe to get online. Please excuse my delays in the meantime; I'll still be able to post, though not frequently.

Sure thing. I rolled a 30. Not too shabby.

Nightrival smiles underneath his mask. "You as well. Glad ya can make it." Nightrival senses Grim's unease, but he can't figure out why the young hero would feel in such a way. He adjusts himself on the couch and winks at her. "Of course I missed ya. I need someone ta taunt th' bad guys in th' middle o' a fight." "Alright. Ya wear th' costume well." "Don't worry 'bout it." Nightrival reaches beside the couch, picks up a plastic Go-Mart bag, and places it on the table. "I brought plenty fer everyone." Nightrival returns the nod. "You too, man." He settles back into the couch and stretches an arm over the edge. "I guess that question is on all yer minds right now." Leaning his head back, he takes a deep breath then straightens up again. "We 'ave worked alone or worked together, wit' each other or wit' other folks. And th' crooks, they're doin' th' same thing. Not jus' the guys like th' Crime League, but on th' streets - our streets - that's where they're buildin' up their ranks, gainin' strength everyday. Th' Freedom League take on the big time aliens an' monsters, but wha' 'bout th' the crooks workin' below th' radar, hurtin' the regular folks we swore ta protect?" He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, pointing his fingertips at the group. "That's why I brought ya together. I wasn't jus' butterin' yer buns when I said ya'll are th' best 'eroes in th' city. I meant it. And I think - no, I know - if we work as a team we can really make a difference." Nightrival sits back. "That's what I gotta say. But I didn't ask ya 'ere so's ya can listen ta me jabber on; I wanna 'ear yer thoughts on this."

Alright, let's do this thing. . . . and I roll a 25.

I figured the merchant would start to see through Nightrival's complex web of deception. I roll a 15 for the Bluff check and I cross my fingers.

Nightrival clambers up the ladder. He crawls through the hatch, pulls himself up, and rises inside the new room. Examining the massive space, his fists lie clenched at his sides. For now, his body has withstood the relentless battery of tests but his mind is wearing thin. Warden's specialized prison is not only designed to have lethal countermeasures to keep them from escaping, it can demoralize the hardiest of souls. Nightrival stands beside Grim. "Yeah, it looks kinda like a trainin' range," he says, almost to himself. "Used ta prepare soldiers ta fight in different environments." He takes a step forward and lifts his head. "Whatever ya throw at us, we gonna throw right back atcha," he yells at their unseen jailer.

Nightrival scowls. "Yeah? I like ta see him try - whoa!" Heavy moves faster than expected and Nightrival finds himself trapped within the goon's bone-crunching grip. His eyes threaten to pop out of their sockets as blood rushes into his head. He squirms at first, then he immediately stops struggling and relaxes every muscle in his body. Luckily, the drop stance has an unexpected bonus: as Heavy squeezes, Nightrival oozes out from under the thug's arms. He hits the ground and springs back up, slamming his open palm under Heavy's thick chin.

Welcome back. :)

That was evil! Eeeeeeeeeeeevil! I was getting ready to make my saving throw against horrible death.

That sounds terrible, Dr. A. Take your time getting back into the game.

Nightrival lifts his hand and smiles politely. "Jus' a sec," he says to Kevin. "I'm talkin' over 'ere." He turns to face the merchant; a smile is still firmly planted on his face. "Sorry. My friend's new in town. Anyway, did Eldrich say anthin' ta ya, like why 'e wanted so much o' yer stuff? Did 'e say where 'e was goin'?"

The mask and coat are stifling. Nightrival is not accustomed to wearing a heavy layer over his costume that could weight him down and slow his reflexes. He twists his shoulders as he swings over the fire engines to settle into the coat. As he gains more height he releases the line and tosses another one behind him, towards the top corner of the building. He shifts the weight away from his arms and swings further up in the opposite direction. He releases the line and drops onto the ledge in a crouching position. Suddenly, someone pokes out of a window on the other side. "Help! Somebody, help!" Nightrival turns his attention to the voice. Tha' dude wasn't there a minute ago, but I saw 'em earlier. I 'ope 'e stays still. He stands and carefully walks along the ledge with his hands pressed against the wall. He moves past the window from where he rescued Rebecca, which is blasted out entirely and a fire still rages inside the apartment. Heat pours out of every window and the fire continues roaring in a terrifying chorus. The flames have spread to the roof, completely submerging the top of the building. Just below Nightrival's feet, the fire has crawled down into the floor under the blaze. Firefighters direct their hoses at that floor to halt the inferno's progression. He eventually reaches the window and sees that the person is a young man in a white t-shirt. "'Old on, man," he says reassuringly. "I'll get ya down." The man nods his head but his eyes are clearly white with fear. Nightrival holds a swing line at the base of the hook and attaches it to the window ledge. He puts his arm under the man's arms and tightens his grip. The man puts wraps his arms around Nightrival's neck. The roof right above the window groans then sags into the apartment. "Ya ready?" The man shakes his head. "No." "Good." Nightrival leaps off the ledge. The roof sinks so far it crumbles into fiery rubble and collapses into the apartment. The man screams as they plummet towards the street; flames and bricks and glass explode above them and rain down on their heads. An extended ladder from one of the engines draws closer. Nightrival counts to ten and when they fall past the ladder his hand reaches out and grabs one of the rungs, then swings forward and freefalls the rest of the distance. He alights on top of a fire engine like an autumn leaf gently settling onto the ground. June rushes to Nightrival as the vigilante lowers the young man down to the street. A crowd of firefighters gather around the man and carry him away. "How'd you do all that?" asks June. "Positive thinkin'." "Right. Our spotters have one more on the top floor, right beside the last one." "Thanks." Nightrival already has a line twirling in his hand. "Wait!" she shouts. He pauses and looks down. "The fire's spread to the lower floor," she continues. "There's a handful of people trapped in there. Our guys can't reach them; the stairs and elevators are a no go." Nightrival nods. "I'll do my best." Another explosion erupts from the roof and June peers up at the chaos. "You better hurry, I'll catch up - " She turns back to Nightrival; he's gone. June smirks. " - in a second."

Nightrival has already set up shop in the Southside (he's originally from there) and he's currently organizing a superhero team. He could pose a threat to any organization, criminal or otherwise, that wants to coexist in "his" neighbourhood. You might want to consider incorporating Nightrival into your story if you're interested. :)

Nightrival stands directly under Grim and peers up at her. "Yeah. Jus' be careful."

I rolled a very sweet 28 for Nightrival's initiative.

Nightrival inspects the numbers again then turns to Grim. "Yer right, the numbers are off. If there were eight doors insteada six, we coulda solved this quickly. Leave it upta Warden ta keep messin' wit' us." Nightrival takes a few steps forward then looks directly at the hatch numbered one. "Eight minus seven is one. That could be it."

I'll use extra effort to get that extra kick at the window, if it's needed.

Well, well. Ol' Slick Willie is in th' 'hood. I shoulda known. An' 'e brought 'Eavy along wit 'em; 'e might be a problem. Nightrival disregards the two women in the room. If I move fast I can take out - wait, wha's that? He sees something stirring in his vision's periphery, a winged creature soaring along the clouds. Its wings resemble those found on a bat but the creature is far too large to be one. Nightrival watches the creature for a moment, trying to identify it. There's always someone, or something, flying above Freedom City, and Southside is no exception. The creature's close proximity to the house bothers him. Whatta am I goin' ta do? Jump up an' grab 'is legs? Nightrival can't see what the creature exactly is and he can't reach it, so he resigns himself to remain aware of its presence. With his hands holding onto the ledge, he backflips over the edge and slams his feet into the window, cracking the surface. He hangs from the ledge, bends his knees and kicks the window. The glass shatters under his weight, then Nightrival corkscrews through the window and lands on the floor just on the other side, all in one motion. He faces the occupants with a drop stance, his eyes seem to radiate with an unnatural glow. "Everybody clear out!"

Monty graciously returns Sen's greeting with a slight bow. "I like your style, young man. Welcome to my humble abode." He stands amid the heroes with a pleased look on his face, seeing that they're getting along amicably after meeting each other for the first time. Well, some of them anyway. Monty infers that a few already share a history together. Hub's remark of having five heroes doesn't escape him; he only smiles awkwardly and gazes at his shoes in reply. When there's a pause in the conversation, Monty clears his throat. "Isn't this something. I figured you all would be rough housing the moment you came in here. Every once in awhile, folks hear about heroes bashing on each other when they meet. I've already had enough of superpeople turning my place upside down." His smile widens, half joking and half hospitable. He points to the office with an open palm. "Now, if you fine folks mind stepping into my office here you all can get started." The heroes enter the office and they see Nightrival lounging on one of the well-worn couches. His feet are resting on the coffee table beside a steaming mug of coffee. His nose is deeply buried in a copy of Super-Vision Magazine, a glossy monthly publication that features Freedom City's heroes. If any of the heroes peeked inside the office from the garage, they swear no one was seated there a moment ago. Monty looks genuinely surpised. "Now how did you get yourself in here?" he sputters. "You're worse than a darn old alley cat!" "'Ey, Monty. Th' coffee's good." "Nevermind that! Get your feet off my table! And have you ever heard of a coaster? Didn't they teach you manners in that barn you grew up in?" "Well, no. I was only there fer a week. Th' Korean police chased me out." Nightrival stands up and drops the magazine on the table. "Of course they chased you out!" replies Monty, "just look at how you treat a man's coffee table." "Fine. I'll keep my feet offa it. Ya happy? Why don't ya go up an' watch yer stories?" Although someone may not notice, Nightrival subtly winks at the group. "Alright, alright. I'll leave you folks alone. Call me if you need anything." Monty salutes and saunters out of the office, closing the door behind him. "Wow, ya all arrived," says Nightrival. "Thanks fer comin'." He seats himself back on the couch. "Grab a seat."

We also make excellent juices and teas. We also brew a fine cup of coffee. :D