ex3lev3n

Alright, here we go. Glide under the Tri-Pod (move), grapple gun up into the undercarriage (move), spend an HP to Surge a Stealth check (Skill Mastery + 11 = 21 Stealth check; 0 personal HP/2 utility belt HP; move action)

Night Cruiser Toughness save DC 19 (1d20 9=12)... and I forgot to add the negative to the roll (always forget something), so it's actually an 11, failing by 8 O_o Night Cruiser Speed check (1d20 5=24)

ok, one move action to grapple gun his way up a column, and one move action to make a Notice check. Skill Mastery Notice +11 = 21

Arriving at the bridge Razorwing realizes that the traffic jam would make it all but impossible to ride in on the Razorcycle, not to mention the robot bugs that were tearing vehicles apart would most certainly be an obstacle. Dismounting his motorcycle, Razorwing pulls his grapple gun free from it's holster and fires a swing line up to top of the bridge's nearest suspension column. From his perch, he looked on the scene of chaos below, evaluating the dangers posed by the bug-bots, the gigantic tri-pod (It's that kid with the hair, again.), and the wreckage of the vehicles.

The sleek, black automobile took the assault like it was nothing. The motorcyclists had him pinned in, but Midnight was testing them, trying to jockey for an opening. The sooner he caught up with the ambulance, the sooner this mystery would be solved.

Sorry, the innerwebz crapped out on me last night. Initiative (1d20 7=12)

Thinking back, he estimated his time spent behind the Iron Curtain. "The first time? I was twelve, I think, but that was more of scouting trip. Ro..." he caught himself before he let slip his former mentor's name. "I had to see the world I'd be operating in. It's hard to imagine urban tribes trading batteries and tobacco for food without witnessing it firsthand." Turning his attention to see what All-Star was doing to the MAVERIC, he continued. "I've been over there a few times, though. Most recent tour was last winter." He turned back to face Nadia, a small grin playing at the corner of his mouth. <"It gets pretty cold over there, comrade,"> he joked. "What brings you to the states?"

RW is going to Power Attack PC #3, spend that new HP (1 left) to Power Attack #1 with an Exploding Razorblade: Attack 1: http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2294551/ , plus I screwed up, the Toughness DC is 25 Attack 2: http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2294553/

The evening was young, the sun still shining on the horizon, but Razorwing had already geared up and set out to patrol North Freedom when he heard the proclamation of conquest over his radio receiver. Game on. Speeding down the lanes on his Razorcycle, the young hero races towards the bridge.

A little embarrassed at her response he adds, <"You're right, sorry. I was there tending to "former Soviet Bloc" affairs, so I get it mixed up sometimes."> Also switching back to English so the others didn't think of them as "commie spies" he replied, "Yes, Kristian. You can call me Kris if you'd like." He extended his hand to the young lady. "And yeah, it wasn't Russia proper, but it was just a few years ago..." The pair of mercenaries huddled in the blown out husk of a two-story building, waiting for the right moment to make their move. <"You ready, kid?"> asked the armored figure in the language of the land, bearing a .50 caliber sniper rifle. The black haired boy, wearing a set of too-large urban BDU's and hugging a Kalashnikov assault rifle close to his chest looked up at his mentor, his role model, and nodded gravely. As the boy charged out of the gutted structure, dodging and exchanging fire with the rebel forces holed up across the once glorious plaza, Ronin popped out from behind cover and took aim through what was once a window. Picking off targets as they presented themselves, Ronin quickly dispatched the enemy riflemen with an ease that earned him respect and fear across the globe.

Blink, Quotemyname, Warmonger, and myself would be happy to receive your gifts. You may place them on the altar =p

Continuing his conversation with the attractive Russian he said, <"I spent time in the former Soviet Bloc in my youth."> Remembering the swashbuckler's earlier comment about his age, Kristian realized he was probably the youngest person here. His last comment must've sounded off to his newfound comrade, though he hoped she understood his meaning.

Kristian listened to the words of "Vince" carefully, making an effort to remember the layout of the underground complex. He walked over to the C&C terminals and scanned the various video feeds taken from all over Freedom City. Testing the machines capabilities with a few keystrokes he spoke to the others. "Incredible. I'd bet we can tap into every video surveillance feed in the city with this equipment." Looking over to the raven-haired girl with the blank tank top he spoke in her native language. <"Spetsnaz? GRU or Ministry of Defense?">, he asked softly.

ahh, I was going to try and stun you all with my out-of-the-box brilliance, but it would seem DocA beat me to it =]

GRU Spetsnaz, here? He would have to take a better look at the girl when they arrived at there subterranean destination.

A red, white, and blue blur flashed past Kris while the cowboy was talking, though he didn't realize it until the gunman threw himself against the wall. Looking up and down the stairs to gather what had just happened, he replied, "I got that impression. I know iron, and those aren't stock model arms. Where'd you come across kit like that?"

Maneuvering around the others, Kris goes to where his duffel lay in the living room and shoulders the carryall. Without hesitation he follows the gunman and takes his first step down the lit staircase in the center of the room. "You heard the man," he remarked to the others as he began his descent. Tapping the cowboy on the shoulder as they traveled into the bowels of the brownstone he asked, "Remember me... 'Partner'?"

That information is limited, at best. Kristian came back into the living room and set his gaze on the petite brunette in Scooby-Doo pajamas. I wonder what she knows about this operation that I don't.

We've already met, he wanted to say, but All-Star continued speaking. And he was right, there was business to get down to. He could pick up names as he went along. "How much of this is ours?" he asked over his shoulder as he scouted the nearby rooms.

Knocking once, Kristian turned the doorknob and entered the brownstone. He could hear talking coming from down the hall. "Hello?" he called out while making his way towards the conversation. He instantly recognized All-Star and the cowboy from previous interactions in Hanover and the carnival in Parkside, respectively. He had been in full gear when he met up with All-Star, but he was just plain old Kristian when he mistook the gunman for an assassin. From beneath the hood of his black and white skeleton sweater he scanned the assembled young adults, sizing each one up, trying to gain a measure of their abilities. Might as well get this part over with. Lowering his battered duffel bag to the floor of the living room and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoody he spoke in a low, soft voice. "Hey, I'm Kristian."

I like Gizmo's idea, and I think I know what QMN is saying but it seems a bit superfluous

A Few Nights Ago The skies of Freedom City were overcast tonight, dark clouds rolling in from the coast, blocking out what little light shone from the sliver of moon that hung above. The commoners had long ago ended their daily business and hurried back to their homes and families, save for the criminal element that claimed the city for it's own when the darkness fell. Perched on the ledge of a skyscraper in North Freedom, a lone figure watches, listens, and waits. He had been doing this for weeks now, though never staying in one area of the city for too long. He patrolled the streets and skylines, breaking up criminal activity and evading a host of pursuers. Hearing something over his commlink that made his blood run cold, the figure leans forward from his crouch and tucks into a ball as he falls from the heights of the colossal building. Tumbling for nearly a hundred feet the figure straightens himself vertically, headfirst, and throws his arms out. In an instant, glider wings unfurl from his suit and he shifts his body, using the wings to soar through the night sky of Hanover to his destination: Darts Inc R&D. Getting into the facility was easy for someone of his skill, and even though Darts Inc. security personnel was crawling all over the place, he had little trouble staying out of sight. He stealthily made his way towards the building's storage rooms, ducking behind corners to avoid patrols and maneuvering around the facing arc of surveillance cameras. Coming to a door marked "Level 5 Clearance Only", he pondered whether to bypass the security door the easy way or the hard way. Approaching footsteps decided for him, and he wrapped his mighty forearms around a guard's neck as he passed the intersection. It didn't take long for the struggling man to go limp. He slid the motionless form slowly to the ground, retrieving a Level 5 Clearance badge from the guards effects and opened the sealed door. He could have hid the man's body but he decided against it. He wouldn't be here long enough for anyone to find him... probably. A lone figure stalked down the halls of Darts Inc. R&D. Over the radio receiver in his mask, he overheard a transmission. "This is patrol team three, we've found a body in the Level 5 storage wing. Initiate 'Security Breach protocol!'" A klaxon screamed through the building, alarm lights flashing red against the corridor walls. Wait, didn't that door back there say... Razorwing was caught off guard by a three man patrol team rounding the corner. "Intruder spotted, light him up!" The target seemed to vanished from sight as the guards unloaded automatic fire, peppering the wall with armor piercing rounds. A split second after the confused guards ceased fire, the rear man was struck from behind and crumpled to the floor. Before his teammates could register what had just happened, they too dropped instantly from the onslaught. Razorwing ducked below the gunfire and slammed his shoulder into the point man of the squad he had just crossed paths with. He abandoned the idea of a stealthy exit from the premises when he realized that wave after wave of armed guards were hounding him throughout the facility. Throwing the guard into one of his team mates and driving an open-palm strike under the last man's chin, he continued his mad dash for escape. He tried to open a service door at the end of the hall that would lead to the emergency exit stairwell, but the alarm had locked all of the doors in the building. I don't have time for this. Pulling a miniaturized cutting torch from his utility belt, he set to melting the locking mechanism. Seconds before the cut was finished a riot of automatic fire was heard from the corridor catty corner to his position. Then an explosion. The silhouette of a tall, broad-shouldered figure could be seen emerging from the smoke and fire, and Razorwing remembered what it was he had heard on his commlink that brought him to this place: "Hey you're alive, guess you aren't a total failure. You want to return the favor? Darts Inc. R&D. Five minutes." "RONIN!" he screamed as he abandoned his welding. Drawing and throwing a handful of Razorblades in one fluid motion the young hero then charged the taller man, landing a solid blow to Ronin's midsection. "Ugh," he let out a breath. "That's all you got?" Trying to follow up on the attack he spun and extended his elbow, trying to land the hit on Ronin's temple, but he saw it coming from a mile away (after all he was the one that taught him the trick), and blocked the attack with a high guard. "Come on kid, where is the hatred? I'm starting to think you don't mean it," he taunted. Grabbing the boy's wrist and twisting up then around and down, Ronin had Razorwing's arm in a joint lock. In desperation, Razorwing stomped down hard on Ronin's shin, but the pain in his arm and Ronin's armor kept the kick from breaking bone. Another volley of gunfire came their way from down the hall through the smoke. Razorwing tried to disengage from Ronin's grasp to dodge the shots, but the villainous mercenary held firm, and a teflon-coated round struck Razorwing's shoulder, puncturing the armor. "Like old times, right?" Ronin brought a knee into his former wards chin and the young man dropped. Kicking the service door open, the disabled locking mechanism no longer a problem, he enters the stairwell with his package secured and turned to Razorwing. "You know why you'll never beat me? You don't got nothing to fight for, hell you don't even fight for yourself. Tell the Doktor that Eric Michaels sends his regards." He pulled a grapple gun from his utility belt and ascended all the way to the rooftop exit. Staggering to his feet , the wounded Razorwing was quickly surrounded by Darts Inc. security forces. He didn't have time to curse Ronin for tossing him to the wolves again. "Lie flat on the ground and put your hands behind your head, now!" shouted one of the guards while another came behind him and to strike him with the butt of his rifle. In the blink of an eye the young hero had disarmed the man and tossed a smoke bomb down at his feet. Diving through the open doorway, he pulled his own grapple gun from it's holster and fired a grappling line towards the rooftop exit, barely escaping Darts Inc. R&D with his life. The last thing he remembers before blacking out is leaping from the rooftop. Becoming increasingly aware of the pain in his right shoulder, Razorwing wakes groggily. When his vision comes into focus, he is greeted by a blond man in a lab coat hovering over him. "Do you have the schematics?" Confused by the man's question, he tried to rise from the operating table when a sharp pain erupted in his shoulder. Laying back down, he ran a hand over his shoulder which had been recently bandaged. The mystery man in the lab coat must have removed the bullet and patched him up. "You may veel a slight pinch," the man said. If he was trying to be funny or cynical or anything it was lost on Razorwing. Easing up slowly he looked around his surroundings. It looked like a sci-fi movie set and a large screen was replaying the footage taken from the surveillance cameras in Darts Inc. R&D. "You und I have much to talk about, meine junger freund." After a lengthy conversation the two men came to an agreement of sorts. After learning that the young man had dealings with Ronin, Doktor Archeville offered to provide resources and protection in exchange for whatever information Razorwing could pass on about Ronin and other villainous groups. The deal was too good to pass up, and he truly wanted to turn over a new leaf and be done with the constant running. Plus some backup couldn't hurt. Today Pulling onto 83rd Avenue on his disguised Razorcycle, Kristian parks his bike on the road next to the trio of brownstones. Loosening the strap of his duffel bag he shifts the carryall onto his good shoulder and heads for the door.

Well, Razorwing doesn't have a secret ID, per se. He just happens to have a birth name. If it's all the same, he could have a room in the house and everything, but Kristian Gerber doesn't "live" there. Or he can sleep in the HQ, either or.

I'm on the fence between "Open Secret" (for the showboaters) and "Somewhat Secretive" (for the gun shy)

Healing and extra Power: ESP