Ari

Lone! Just a heads-up: we're still doing this, right? Or do you want to put this on hold for now?

I vote saving the citizens.

Taking the piece of paper, Marceau put it in one of the pockets of his coveralls(he was carrying them in a backpack), and bowed slightly when Ford gave his farewell "To you as well Ford! May you fare well" he called after the alien's retreating form. Turning on his heel, he strode off to find a suitable hotel, taking the two Marines and the Olympic sharpshooter along with him, in preparation for meeting with the Cercle and getting them up to speed on what had happened, not to mention finally getting started on the case he had been called in for! As he walked down the street, through the busy crowd, Marceau was surprised at how comfortable he was here, rather than in the more temperate Atlantic coast. The warm breeze from the Mediterranean, the light bands of revelers, petty thieves and nervous visitors, the clear sky with the just-rising sun, it all seemed..right. Snapping his fingers next to his ears, Marceau turned his attention back to the task at hand. If he wasn't sharp, he would be hard-pressed to get a good deal.

After alerting the local authorities to the situation and making the needed arrangements for the rescue of the passengers, Marceau approached the bartender and Ford. He spoke to the bartender first "<Thank you for your help. Your losses will be reimbursed within the week. I'll make sure of that personally, I have ties to the Cercle>". To Ford he said "Thank you for the help you've given, can I do anything else for you, or do you wish to part ways for now? If you want my help again, you can find me at the Monkey Towers apartment complex in the Fens district of Freedom City" He glanced over at the line of grav-bikes that were being readied for transport to A.S.T.R.O. Labs for inspection, the staves that had been recovered he hadn't learned the fate of. He wondered if he could get his hands on one of them. They were a wonder to ride.

"Victory?" echoed Marceau in confusion. But a moments reflection brought to his mind the basic fact that there were more important things to worry about than the alien hunters. The passengers still needed to be taken care of, the Cercle had to know what had happened, the alien tech needed to be taken in for examination, and he needed to get in on the case he had come out here for in the first place. Shrugging it off, he took stock of their surroundings. Desert. Immensely vast desert, with what he believed to be city lights in the distance. He could fit two people on the bike, there were four bikes...well, they wouldn't wrangle themselves. Jumping back onto the bike he called out to Ford "Hop on, I'll need your help to get another bike, then we can get the rest back here!" re-activating the device's engine, he carefully lifted it a half foot off the ground.

The burning ray merely charred much of the armor, leaving the King of Suits unscathed. With a grim smile he said "From one King to another" and, raising his fist back, brought it down straight into the alien's face. The blow badly bent the armor born on the King of Diamond's head, and sent him crashing back against the hard metal of the grav-bike. The two-fold strike knocked the King insensible, and after swaying for a moment, eyes wide and staring blankly, he slid from the bike onto the smooth sands. Swinging neatly into the seat vacated by the King, Marceau set course for the truck, the controls proved much less of a bother than he had feared, and he soon slid the otherworldly vehicle to a stop next to the smoking, ruined truck. Surveying it gloomily, Marceau mentally berated himself for not focusing on the defense of the truck rather than his(in hindsight) rather embarrassing choice of targets. Shaking himself back into the present, he stopped the engine and brought the thing to rest. Getting off of the bike he then called to Ford "What should we do now Ford? Go on? Take care of these first?" he gestured to the fallen aliens.

Okay, Drive check DC 10: 23, vast achievement.

Reflex saving: 22, just made it. Okay, with your permission, I'll make a check(Drive or Pilot, whichever you think more fitting) to get the grav-bike under control.

Sorry for falling behind in this, no adequate excuse for it. Subito is going to try and get a handle on what the two guys are doing out the front of the shop like that. So move action over to them, then a Diplomacy check to convince them to tell him what's up so that people know everything's on the level. 30.

And here I'll sketch out the board game-themed villains I plan to devise, basically Silver Age legacies who loathe the disregard for life so many other villains have. While hardly incompetent, they see themselves more as constructing hurdles for heroes to overcome than self-deluded jackasses with an inflated sense of their own importance. Rough roll-call: The Players The Chequers(Red and Black, wife and husband who founded the team and are skilled in making and using electronic equipment to fight) The Monopolist(Main financial backer and supplier of arms and materials. Has a suit of powered armor forged in the recesses of the Canadian tundra) Feud(Powerful fighter and the group's main muscle, she uses a natural talent for influencing the luck of others to put the odds in her favor, in conjunction with an ability to bring out people's hidden anger) Coppit(Skilled enchanter with a magic hat, works closely with the Chequers) Risk-Taker(formerly the grim 'n gritty British vigilante Wristbreaker, no powers but expert in traps, small-unit tactics, firearms and other martial arts. Works closely with Pawn.) The Machiavillain,(he's quite aware of what Machiavelli was really like, but plays up the part of the schemer out of a sense of obligation to 'The Rules'. Generally avoids direct combat, is mainly the team's Face and negotiator) Die Asche('The Axle', speedster with a connection to and influence over fire) Pawn(Water-based Duplicator, not much known about his life before joining the team, extremely mellow to the point of being unsettling) Chequer, Red

I'd like to purchase the Quick Change feat for El Heraldo. DONE BY AA

28, so withstood. Regular melee Attack: 28, odd. TOU DC is 19. No Move action taken because...because?

If Ozob is alright with it, I'd like him to GM King's Kicker, seeing as you're full up.

Initiative: 10

As the rock crashed against the truck, and it gave its last rattle, jolt and belch of smoke, the King of Suits crashed heavily against the cabin of the truck. Growling with frustration, he returned to the well that had been so useful lately and took out a boomerang with the intent of throwing it at the King of Spades in order to do them violence. However, this time he aimed not at the rider of the grav-bike, but at the staff they held! He had realized(rather belatedly, it must be said) that it would render the assailants practically helpless if he could relieve them of their weaponry. It would have been nice to do so when the truck wasn't a pile of badly-dented scrap, but hey! Never too late to learn! The smoothly curved weapon made a fine sight as it twirled elegantly through the air, striking the insufficiently-quick hands that wielded the staff with a sharp 'crack!', forcing the alien to drop their geokinetic device in pain. Nodding in satisfaction, Marceau turned his attention to the King of Diamonds. "Should have run when you had the chance!" he bellowed, firing his grapple line at the grav-bike and swinging himself on board, the moonlit desert rushing past his head as he swooped over giving him severe doubts if what he was doing was all that wise. Nonetheless, he landed on the front of the bike as smoothly as could be desired, though his legs trembled a bit at the knowledge of his precipitous situation.

Okay, no chance of that missing, so let's see how badly Mr. Wormfellow fails: 8. Drops him like a sack of hammers. King's STR check: 9, meh, fails.

Okay, I assume I add my Dex bonus to this? In that case: 13, re-rolling. Burning last HP: 25! Made it! IC post upcoming...

Okay edited IC to reflect reality. Going to make a Disarm attempt on Spades with a boomerang, which really I ought to have done earlier. Attack: 15. No, re-rolling. Burning HP: 18, bah. -4, due to it being ranged so 14. DC is 23. Move action onto the King of Diamond's grav bike with the handy-dandy grapple gun.

Nah, this is what I got:

Sorry, didn't know you wanted the IC responses directly after the check.

Notice check: 13, nope, he doesn't see them.

As the ray of heat burned the rock and sand into a rapidly-dissipating pile of dust, Marceau lurched against the side of the truck, his head buzzing from the sudden change of temperature and pressure around his ears. Ford's calm speech of "Ow" arrived at his ears just in time to remind him what he was supposed to be doing. Whipping out a boomerang he threw it at the King of Spades, the curved metal stick flying unerringly at the alien hunter's head, which it struck with enough severity to give him a painful bruise on its head.The King of Suits straightened, feeling a distant pride in his good marksmanship. Which was when he recalled that the King of Clubs was still at large! Turning, a hand on a razor card, he saw the King of Clubs get sent from his grav-bike by a flash of light, which clattered on the truck bed. A moment's inspection revealed to Marceau that one of his boomerangs had returned! And had retained enough power to knock out an alien in armor! The 'how' he felt no confidence in asking. Turning his attention to the King of Diamonds, he pointed at him and thundered "You! Get you gone, and if you continue with this, I'll pull you from your bike and send you into the sands!"

Subduing the nervous gulp that almost made it past his throat, EL Heraldo nodded and said softly "Ready Fulcrum. Thank you" he added, sounding almost embarrassed. Kicking off the roof he sent himself towards the moored boat, soaring high into the air to avoid detection by the kidnappers below. He remained intent on his target and the potential assailants below, and gave no thought to possible dangers lying in wait for him in the sky. After all, he told himself, Fulcrum would have encountered any danger in the sky when she arrived, and she'd got to the warehouse unmolested. Concentrating on the gently swaying, starkly-lit black mass below, Subito reached the apex of his flight and began to descend, every fiber of his being concentrated on escaping detection. The boat loomed ever larger as he fell, and the previously-distant voices of the kidnappers began to fill his ears once again. Ignoring them for now, he slid down towards the bow of the boat, hoping to render the vessel unshipworthy.

Subito started at the mention of the Academy. He had never heard of it before except as a ultra-elite school for the incredibly wealthy until his own induction into the supers world, whereupon he had learned of the place's true nature. The revelation that the person standing before him possessed powers was a sobering thought, and he couldn't help but feel almost..disenchanted to realize that he and Johnny, outwardly indistinguishable from unpowered humans, had such gifts. Of course, he made sure not to be rude and stand mouth agape when there was conversation to be made. "Really? I almost envy you. I've been to the same school for most every single year of my life. Must be exciting to go new places, make new friends. I'm going to Claremont at the start of the Autumn quarter myself, maybe we'll bump into each other there!" The showdown at the Gap(he wondered if that was the title of a song...) seemed to mercifully have stalled. Nonetheless, he edged in the direction of the over-zealous neighborhood watch captain, just in case he needed to apply a bit more hand on the shoulder violence-forestalling.

Marceau followed as quietly as he was able. The disintegrating interior made that practically moot, as his every step caused something to snap or crumble, but he stolidly kept stepping lightly and quietly, no sense in forgoing the possibility to get the drop on someone twice in a night. The gloomy surroundings at least gave him something to think about, and as they walked through the moldering place he mentioned them to Mad Dog every now and then sotto voce "You know, meeting here would actually be pretty dangerous. You'd need overwhelming force to keep yourself safe if you're in the Fens and a crime boss" "Do you think there's some kind of scouting group that goes to these places before a meeting?" "They must not keep much in the walls here. Be a real danger of the stuff being lost in the crumbling support structure" He quickly became utterly silent however, as the oppressive atmosphere affected him much more deeply than he wished to risk showing. When Mad Dog asked if he was ready, he simply patted his utility belt and nodded.