Quinn

Morgan didn't hit the deck when the captain tried to grab him - merely stepping sideways lightly and watching the sparks fly as the cargo container hit not two meters from where he was standing. The incognito runemaster stared coldly at the smashed box for a moment - then spit on it. Had to keep playing the role, or that Glock would be turned on him next. Damnit, who was up there with the sabotage? And why would they jump in now? And more importantly...how did the captain know how to set up a ward? "Your security leaves something to be desired. Either that or your safety standards." He said rather flatly; hands still in his pockets. One touched a small piece of chalk, lightly turning it between his fingers. Get some chalk dust on the fingertips...remember what he'd learned vis-a-vis prior preparation. There was a moment where the eyes seemed to...evaluate...the captain, then he simply nodded. "Take me to the merchandise."

DC 23 Toughness save! (1d20+9=22) Bruise'D!

Normally, this would likely be a point in time when a certain hero clad in black and perched upon a nearby rooftop would say something akin to "Jackpot", or "I love it when a plan comes together", or some such one-liner. Something to add a bit of insult to injury, even if the villains in question couldn't quite hear it. Unfortunately, the one-liner for this situation would go unsaid; mostly because Crow's attentions were somewhere else at the time. From his cloaked position, the young man made three elaborate hand gestures - the jagged bolt of a rune on both gloves' backplates not only smoking and burning, but outright blazing behind his magic veil. ...lightningboltlightningboltlightningboltlightningboltlightningboltcomeonyoubloodyFomoriancursedpíosaiarainncacamasTHERE! Two hands shot forward, the blazing light from the backplates transferring to a pair of knives that fair to burst underneath the sheer elemental pressure. The roiling motes spun forward...and touched the fog cloud. Physics ensued. With a flash and a crack of thunder came what could only be described as a tempest in a teapot, the dark alley's shadows cast into sharp relief, and the thugs finding themselves at the epicentre of a localized electrical storm. It was likely a remarkable, once-in-a-lifetime experience. For all of a few seconds. If anyone was to have said Crow had a slightly satisfied smile at the resulting cause-and-effect chain, he would have likely said 'no comment'.

King set 'em up, and now Crow knocks 'em down! Elemental Chain Lightning! Shock the thugs! (1d20+14=20, 1d20+14=30, 1d20+14=16, 1d20+14=25) DC 27 TOU save from those the bolt hits. ;)

"Peace out, Cerys - and hey, if you're looking for a good training sesh..." He checked head left, and right, tapping his chin for a sec...then leaned over and murmured to her. "A few friends and I got an early morning sesh every day in this really sweet training simulator - if you ever really want to stretch yourself, we could try talking to Archer; seeing if you could roll with us. Get the feeling you're pretty good at what y'do, hee." A grin and a wink, he leaned back and tapped his nose. "We're all in the same boat, Cer - gotta stick together, amiright? Have a good one!" A respectful nod at John, and then Morgan simply wasn't there anymore. There was a bit of ruffling of air, of course - a few papers blew off a desk. The fact that a few branches in the main quad's tree shook slightly probably had nothing to do with it.

A figure simply shimmered into existence beside Mr. Simmons, taking in a sharp breath. This was...unpleasant, to say the least. Very unpleasant. Possessed individuals were always annoying as hell to deal with - even moreso if it was an outright mindphreak rather than simply glamoured. Removing glamour from the eyes could be done in an expeditious manner if you knew how, or could find the fae to thump. A spirit infesting the mind required complex exorcisms and distinct care not to damage the poor victim's mind. That, and he hated taking down innocent people. Seriously, that was just plain wrong. Bah. Take them down quick and with minimal damage, then - that was Changeling's bailiwick if there ever was one. The black figure snapped out three curt orders before snapping his cuffs forward, a rune on the back of the coat smoking for a second or three. "Changeling, confounding illusions. Fog out in three. Mr. Simmons, draw them in." From those cuffs poured a rolling wave of thick, chalk-white fog; filling up the stone walls within moments, and hanging heavy in the air like a cloud stolen from the sky. It was thick, very thick - to anyone other than those of Morgan's choosing, they would have been completely blind the moment they stepped inside. To those who he knew well, and who he had marked before tapping the rune of the spell...clear as day. Man, he loved his tricks.

Okay, Crow's going to do his usual Thang involving baddos and enclosed spaces. Port down, and fog out. Obscure 6 (Rune of Blindness) (250 ft., Visual, Extras: Selective, Independent; Flaws: Limited [Normal Vision]) [7 pp] One HP burned to stunt. Then Turnabout back up to the roof. If Mr. Simmons could make some speakity-speak to draw them in, that would be luv'ly. ;)

Initiative! (1d20+8=25) and the batman hasss...the initative

The black figure simply faded into the background as the others went down, and soon faded from view entirely. Some would have simply trusted to the innate dark of the subterranean tunnels to keep one cloaked from sight - Crow, for his part, preferred more insurance. The veiling rune worked as well as it always did, doubly so since he upgraded it months ago. Instead of a blurry form, the only markers of his passing might have been an errant footstep, or a hitch in breathing. At least, if he wasn't really trying to be disciplined about his stealth. Either way, the heroes likely felt as if they were being watched now and again. Crow followed behind as they wished; moving slowly through the water and cycling through the different visions the mask afforded him - making doubly sure he could spot what was coming. En route, he considered those in front of him somewhat - evaluating slightly. He'd gotten into a comfort zone with the others from Claremont; encountering other heroes was something that didn't happen to him too often.

Crow never entered conventionally. It wasn't a habit or anything like that; more a truism of the world. Morgan Crowe, alias Crow, never entered any building conventionally. Well, almost never - but the vast bulk of the time he always found an incredibly odd or secondary way of entering into a building. In this case, he'd chosen the bell tower. Coming in through one of the upper windows, scaling down the galleries, and eventually vanishing to appear on an upper wooden beam. And so it was that a figure clad entirely in black perched within the high vaulted ceiling of the St. Andrew church, looking down to survey that silent and still scene...odd. Very odd. Morgan's bump of trouble itched. He'd heard of Lantern Jack, of course - having Parkhurst on Lantern Hill meant that the old ghost had passed by more than once; at least according to their own ghosts. And bets that Nick had met him too...he never had himself, though. Truth be told, the off-ness of the situation somewhat amused him; amused and appalled. A child of a pagan goddess and a distinctly...fey...individual, meeting a ghost in an old church? ...Gabriel would have been appalled.

A voice from the aether lanced into King's range of perception, three short words that nonetheless conveyed a distinct intent. Crow's rasp sounded out loud; the thugs assailing empty space hearing it ringing in their ears as well - though hopefully they wouldn't get that meaning. The low criminal mind was often confused, after all...and besides, how many of these bulky meatheads would admit to watching cartoons? "King! Scooby Doo!" Perhaps the thugs got a glimpse of a grim figure in black as Crow turned on his invisible heel; disappearing just as a flurry of blows struck where he had been. That same cloaked figure reappeared on his former position overlooking the alleyway; dropping two unseen knives into his hands...wires reaching up into his sleeves. He'd be cutting this fine, very fine...

The black figure fixed a cold iron mask on the captain - his mouth below that mask pursing. He seemed displeased. Distinctly displeased. That cold rasp sounded again, hushed against the rain which dripped from his hood. It was terse. Very terse. "Very well." Oh, he was looking forward to ending this - he'd been tracking these smugglers for months on the side. When artifacts of an arcane nature were slipping into the city under the radar of most experts, not to mention the Parkhurstians, an investigation had to be made. Granted, knocking out this month's purchaser and stuffing him in a crate two warehouses over was a bit of a spur of the moment decision, but hey - carpe diem, right? "The merchandise was undamaged, correct?" There was a tiny note of malice in that sentence - no threat stated, of course; that would just be gauche. One didn't have to state a threat to make it clear what would happen...if something was awry. Crow's hands remained in his pockets as that flat expression bored past the captain's eyes; like he was looking right into his head.

Okay, so I'm actually going to try using a little-known form of Bluff called "Innuendo". Morgan is going to convey a secret message using Bluff to the King of Suits. DC for a Basic Message is 10, and since he has a +10 Bluff he would auto-pass; however, due to the whole 'thugs threatening over his head', he's going to have to take a Move Action and then a Standard Action. Now comes a bit of a curious point of rules - Innuendo actually isn't covered in the core book under the Action penalty as stated for Trick, Feint, or Diversion, so it may not be subject to the -5 from that. However, after consultation with the Refs, it was stated thusly: Short form: Rolling it! Innuendo roll! (1d20+5=10)... That makes it a DC 10 Sense Motive check to get a general idea of what he wants King to do - and the thugs may make the same check to figure out precisely what that plan is as well. And if it's a Free Action without the -5...then it'd be the same thing. *sweatdrop* Well, at least it's a good ruling for future people! Anyway - your decision which one stands, Ari. You da boss. Move Action to get atop a nearby building (thank you Teleport!), and then Standard Action to yell that.

Crow A Traill All Bent Askew All You Need Is Hate Just Another Fishing Trip? Right. The Fourth Freedom Undercity Manhunt y Dderwen Overclock Percussive Therapy

"You'd have hurt your foot." He retorted rather impishly; taking her hand and pulling himself up. Zeke gave a mischevious look, breathing somewhat heavily after the gales of laughter had settled down. Yeah - good mood and warm fuzzies all around. "And come on, Car - you sound like Sifu." Grin. Cue old-man-voice. "You want talk fair? You want cotton candy and ferris wheel? Pssht, fair only apply to ladies and boardwalks." Yeah, Master Li had impressed him that exact same lesson over and over again. Usually punctuated with whacks to the head via a stout wooden cane. Or tonfa. Or staff. Depended on what the sifu felt like at the time. Granted, it didn't do much...but it huuuuurt... "Yeah, yeah, you're right. Still, there's can and cannot get away with, and then there's just dirty pool." Snerk. "Of course you realize, this means war."

Morgan turned and blinked at Subito as he kneeled down by one of his favorite orchids - Cattelya, if memory served. It was one of the first flowers planted when they broke ground, and he just liked the color. Plus, it smelled nice. Yeah, a botanist was not Mr. Crowe - but hanging around Flora and Brian back in the day did lend him some interest in plants. Tending to them was surprisingly relaxing, actually. "Eh? Yeah, we put this sucker together in an afternoon; bunch of new students threw in on it and a couple of teleporters brought in pizza and soda. Worked on the frame myself, mostly - screwing in bolts and welding pipes together..." Beat. He realized he was rambling. "Ah, sorry. There's three...four sections, if memory serves. One for flowers, one for larger plants, one for exotics, and one for veggies - I think the caf supplements from here once in a while, but I'm not sure. Right now, we're in the flower garden - Flora used to just love this place." He gestured in front of him to the small gathering of pinkish plants; almost idly picking up a watering can and starting to pour. They were looking a little peaked... "This lot are orchids, for example. Cattelyas; the kind that get on all the fancy flower fashion magazines. No Playflower here, no ma'am." Grin.

"As much as you need." Crow said flatly. Benefits of the Iron Mask were that regardless of light sources, he had excellent night vision. Complete with heat vision and tracking. He loved it when a tool built from foresight and planning was suddenly incredibly handy - that feeling of vindication gave him a warm and fuzzy sensation. Which, given the weather, was quite welcome. The teen kneeled by the storm drain, peering down into the darkness. Almost idly, he made a tiny and almost imperceptible hand gesture - the runes on the mask under the hood gleamed . Only for a moment, however - and behind the solid black iron, Crow could see. He peered down into the darkness, and focused his senses like Archer had trained him. Tuning out the world - there was only the dark underground...and here, the dark was his friend.

Out of the corner of one eye, Blodeuwedd might have caught a glimpse of a figure approaching up the gangplank of the ship. He was clad entirely in black, with a greatcoat done up to his throat and a peaked hood pulled up over his head. Normally, this might not have been out of the ordinary with a nefarious deal apparently going down...except it was more than likely the girl recognized those very particular runes covering parts of the coat. As well as that height and posture - if not the iron mask thrown into brief and sharp relief by the illumination of a lightning strike. Morgan Crowe stalked onto the deck like he owned the place, and eyed the crates with a cold demeanor as he turned to the crewmen. His hands were in his pockets, out of view - and despite the pouring rain, it didn't look like he was suffering from an ounce of discomfort. Odd, but could easily be ascribed to 'bloody magery'. No...what was tremendously odd...was that he wasn't trying to stop the men. In fact...it seemed as if he was surveying them. Like he was supposed to be there. "Captain." The young man's voice was a cold rasp. "You're late."

"Crow. I'm not seen." The young man lightly hopped down from the lamppost. Before his boots had even touched the ground, he just...wasn't there. Perhaps a little dust might have been kicked up, or there might have been a breeze from his passage - but until he spoke from right behind Vector, there were literally no indications that the young hero had been even near the area. "Also exceptionally good at psychology." He said in a very low, and intimidating tone. If anyone whipped around in surprise, they would have seen him standing quite relaxed behind Vector - arms crossed and a small smile creasing the face visible under the mask. Mucho eerie. Heeheehee. He had to resist the urge to do a tiny little dance - that went off perfectly!

Nope. I'm ridiculously down with the idea. :)

There was a lamppost that Net Fly passed as he was lowering down, and for a second the hero's body obscured the top of it. Once he had landed, the metal edifice seemed somewhat larger - until the individual in the black costume with the beaked mask shifted slightly. Perched atop the cap of the lamp, Crow did indeed look like a hunting bird come to seek their prey. The group of heroes and the officer in question felt a piercing gaze trail over them as that solid iron mask tracked back and forth. Morgan resisted the urge to smile. He knew crafting those runes into the mask would be a good idea. He'd picked up everything, of course - been keeping tabs on that biting assailant since the second attack. The problem was a distinct lack of evidence at each scene, not even enough to follow. Bites did scream vampires, though - and there were records of them having shown up in Freedom before. Prior preparation paid off there, too - he'd nicked some cloves and vials from the Parkhurst supply for his pockets weeks ago in case of just such an eventuality. "Seconded." was the toneless addition to Net Fly's offer for assistance. It had been a quiet patrol anyhow. "Crow. It's a pleasure."

Crow wasn't quite as vocal, but his tactic was awfully similar to the King. Though there was a brief thought floating through his head in the sense of he really should ask Suits how he did that. Granted, he cheated using magic on more than a few things, but extra-compact knives were a true wave of the future! Right, thugs, traps, back to business. One moment you saw him, the next you didn't - the black figure standing silently beside the King of Suits just vanished from view. There was a brief chipping of the masonry at the edge of the roof, then wind whistling around an invisible figure who was tumbling groundwards - to the thugs in the cloud of smoke and ash, one of their leaders suddenly found himself bound and trussed; their eyes beheld him stand ramrod straight for a split second before being abruptly yanked backwards into the black with a cut-off scream. A second after that, there was the sound of crackling ozone, a sharp crack of blinding light that illuminated and bounced off of the black smoke, and the smell of...bacon? Crow looked up at the dazed and twitching handiwork hanging upside-down from the lamppost with some satisfaction...and snickered a bit before he could catch himself. ...Aw, crap.

Going for another one of the Super-MAX Crusaders, this is how! Free Action: Activate Concealment, Crow vanishes from all Visual Senses. Standard Action: Whip a Snare down to loop around a Crusader and drag him into the dark of the mists! In a spookity manner! All Out Attack (+5 Attack, -5 Defense), Power Attack (+5 Damage, -5 Attack) (1d20+14=18) DC 20 Reflex save from him if it hit. Move Action: Leap down from the building, and yank backwards on the wire - pulling it up and over a lamppost and taking the Crusader with it. And if it Binds him, activate Linked power to the Snare: Rune of Lightning. Electro-shock for DC 20 Fortitude save.

Initiative! (1d20+8=13) Let's all rock the heist.

Crow's stunting off his coat's array to fill that gloriously small alleyway with thick pea-soup fog. London-style fog. Obscure 6 (Rune of Blindness) (250 ft., Visual, Extras: Selective, Independent; Flaws: Limited [Normal Vision]) [7 pp] He will then proceed to Turnabout Teleport up to safety atop the roof, activate the Selective for Tenebrous and King, and sit back to watch the show.