Quinn

Quinn snarled as he felt the assault upon his mind, staring the demon right in the face with a look of defiance, as he dredged through his memories. "Come on...that the best you got?! Bring it!" Memory after memory slammed through his mindscape, the massacre at the Museum, another warehouse in the Midwest filled with more of Scratch's handiwork, the burning corpse-smell of this place, eldrich beings summoned by his nemesis, spawned to hunt and harry him throughout his own chase, memories of the endless pursuit that haunted his steps every day and night... Every single nightmare he ever had blew through his mind, and every single one he forced himself to relive, using them to drown out the demon's assaults on his senses. "You think I fear you, beast of Old Night?! Your mind games are nothing more than an irksome fly to me! I fear your noxious stench and your ugly face more than your vaunted power, fell creature! After the places I've walked, I've seen far worse things than YOU!" He slammed his foot down, the ground cracking ever so slightly, with his arms apart, as energy rushed through his arms and coalesced in his hands. Twisting warps of air, crackling and snapping from the sheer force wrapped around his hands, and he snarled once again at the demon. "Bring it, monster! I'll take everything you got and push it back tenfold!" And with that, he vaulted the podium, throwing a hand up and firing an overloaded bolt at the creature, and kept running as he hit the ground, not even stopping to see if it hit. Seizing the haft of the warhammer in his still-warping hand, Push charged towards the unholy foe!

Push scrambled up the debris as the dust cleared, staring in all directions with a look of dismay. "Powerhouse!" A stream of coughing curses flowed from his mouth as he slid down the pile, looking hither and thither as he struggled to the midpoint of the collapse. "Damnit...*koff*...this is my fault...Powerhouse, say something man! Where are you?!" He reached where he thought he'd seen the shirtless hero take the building's weight, and began trying to shift the rubble in hopes of finding his newfound comrade.

Granted, his mind was gibbering in terror by this point, and his breath was coming considerably shorter, but Quinn tried his level best to stay calm. "Wow. Never seen it...from this high up before...yeah...looks real pretty..." Push felt his head getting dizzier, the air in his lungs vanishing with each second. "Not police...huh...figures...always thought it'd be...Scratch that got me...in the end...didn't even get...a chance...to clear my name..." His head lolled forward at that, his breaths shallow he stared downwards.

I'm not having any of my new edits "come into effect" until I do my Moving In thread, so no. Besides, I already had an epic moment planned to use that, so ;)

Ditto.

Inwardly, Push was rejoicing that Dragonfly was back on her feet. In the corners of his brain, his inner self was doing cartwheels and happy dances. Seriously. On the outside, however, that same relief manifested in it's usual way. Templar's advice didn't help much either, even couched in the soft words. He kicked out instinctively, letting a bit of snark sneak into his words. "Like I haven't heard that one before. Next time, I'll just leave you lot to get swarmed by zombies then, shall I?" He shook his head, turning and waving a hand, hiding the look of sheer relief on his face. "Aaah, never mind. Glad to see you're in one piece, at least." Hunching his shoulders and shoving his hands into the coat pockets, he walked over to the altar and started rummaging through the pages and books the Head Cultist had left behind. As he did so, he murmured something about "evidence", while deliberately avoiding the others' eyes.

Push sat, watching the waves work on her with a bit of discomfort. "If...if that helps...ah, damnit, this is my own fault. I'm sorry, alright? Got so caught up in a bad memory I just acted without thinking." Testing his legs again, he managed to keep his feet, and staggered slightly over to the group's side. "I've got a motorcycle parked a few blocks over, I can carry her to a...well, I guess it's a safehouse, after Templar does what he can. Least I can do to make up for it."

Ok, Sleep Bomb just went off, Push is wearing a gas mask, so no effect on me. Fatigue Burst, 40ft. Nighty-night, Vic. ;)

Push shrugged...well, attempted to shrug. Hanging above the skyline by the scruff of your neck didn't exactly do much for your shoulder maneuverability. "Damn. Nice view up here, yeh?" The wind blew past them, billowing his coat and scarf around while he simply crossed his arms and admired the skyline. "I gotta ask, you ever meet an Agent Kent? Nice guy, but so persistent! You two could start a Push fan club or something, seriously. And by the way, you missed reading me my rights." He leaned his head back, eyes visibly smirking while the lower half of his face remained covered. "Oh, almost forgot!" Quinn's left hand shot up, shoving the small orb right in front of Victory's nose. "Grabbing a wanted man without frisking them first? Not smart." A squeeze and a beep, and a truly prodigious amount of vivid green gas erupted from the small orb into Victory's face!

"HEY!" A bolt of force flew through the space where the cultist had stood a split second before, and Quinn (Damnit, Push!) cursed a blue streak. "Bloody %@#!^ hobo pieces of #@^% on @#%% with #@%* !@+%! !%&*@"%, I'll @#)%_% their !%)#)@ and !%U*!$_ the !%##@!) outta !*%)# #!%)!@*%) !)*%# WITH A FONDUE FORK!" He ducked into a nearby alley, doing a quick-change and coming out in full gear, eyes blazing. Tuque, gloves, longcoat, and scarf, the only thing missing was the hammer he usually slung on his back, but at this point, he didn't really care. Warps and crackles in the air surrounded him as he strode over and kneeled down besides one of the supine cultists, giving him a ringing slap on the cheek. "Oi! Wakey, wakey! You and I are gonna have words."

Power Stunt: Damage 8 (Extras: Area [General, Cone], Selective Attack) (Kinetic Barrage) [24 PP] And use an HP to keep from falling over.

Well, cat's out of the bag now. Frak it, these bastards are about to get a taste of why you don't kidnap a lady in front of me! "If the lady says so!" He threw his arms apart, eyes flashing as the air surrounding him warped and crackled. Smaller orbs appeared over his hands...then a couple more...then a couple more...then a HELL of a lot more. Within seconds he was surrounded by dozens of the smaller warps, crackling and floating as they hung in the air. "Kidnapping scum...let me show you how we dealt with your kind back in Gear City!" Push shot an arm forward, the dozens of kinetic blasts flying forward and slamming into the kidnappers, each with bone-cracking force. The sadness had vanished now, replaced with an expression that could only be charitably described as 'severely hacked off'. "My advice? Stay the frak down."

Push nearly facepalmed. Powerhouse. Right. Name like that, of course he could lift a bloody building. Way to go, Quinn... Then Dragonfly vanished, and he could hear her distinctive voice barking in the building. Collecting civilians, good on her. He'd only focused on the two most obviously in danger, while she'd seen the bigger picture. A sense of his own idiocy grew as he slowly lowered the building with what was left of his charge into Powerhouse's waiting arms, before turning and watching the battlesuits disappear into the sky. "Damn their eyes...get back here!" He shook his fist at the retreating figures...just before his jets cut out, and he rather unceremoniously fell on his arse.

Push nodded, kicking the jets into gear and jumping up to hover in the air. He tapped his commlink, looking into the sky. "Right. Supercape, we've hooked up with another hero, calls himself Kid Cthulhu. We'll be approaching Kraken's ship by flight and then on foot when we get close, you got exact co-ordinates on that squid-faced jerk's (no offense, Kid) interstellar conveyance?"

Push rummaged through his messenger bag, cursing a blue streak. PDA...no....Night vision goggles...no...multi-tool...no....aha! A grin creased his features as he took out a small black orb and a mask, pulling down his scarf and sticking it to his nose and mouth. Pulling the scarf back up to obscure the fact that he was wearing it, he palmed the orb and stepped out into the alleyway, chuckling. "Come on, tin man...where are you?" Staring into the sky, he waved here and there with his free hand, looking very nonchalant.

Push's shoulders quivered briefly, followed by a ragged cough. He lifted his head, staring through dazed eyes, and struggled to his knees. "Ow..." He looked around, taking in the situation and giving a groan on sighting the prone Dragonfly. The hammerquake had cleared out the zombies, but he'd done more damage to her than they would have...a sense of shame filled him, and he slung his hammer over his back. Averting his eyes from the source of that shame, he managed to get his feet under him and nearly fell over as he tried to take a step. Every cell in his body felt like it was drained and/or on fire...he'd completely drained himself pulling that trick. Leaning on a handy crate, he took another look at the supine golems and the buried cultist, nodding with at least a small sense of satisfaction. He motioned at the the small mountain of crates and packing beans covering the head cultist. "Who got him?"

Quinn sighed and shook his head. Well, I'm already all in with a pair of twos and nothing on the river, so...might as well play out the hand. Rolling his eyes at the metaphors, he kicked the kinetic jets in gear, taking off and sweeping around the thugs before hovering in front of them and wiggling his finger...but with a very saddened face. "Hey, Eliza? Remember when I said that all I could do was that little spark? Well..." He lifted up his hand, pointing at one of the cultists, the air over his hand warping and crackling as kinetic energy far beyond the minor spark that had passed from his hand to her started to gather, forming an orb in his palm that was pointing towards one of the four holding her. It grew progessively larger. And larger. And larger. He shook his head... "I lied." And fired.

Quinn seized the first man's wrist, giving him a look that spoke volumes. "Oi. Don't know what you're saying, s'all Greek to me, and I sure as hell don't know if you speak English. But I'm quite sure you'll get this." He clenched his hand, sneaking a bit of kinetic energy into the squeeze. Not that much, but for about ten seconds the man felt like his wrist was in an iron vise. "Let. Go." Great. Four thugs, no hammer, costume's still in the bag, and she's standing right in front of me. Damn your eyes, Scratch!

"Heh, eh..heheh...yeah. Haven't...uh...haven't had a chance to just relax and enjoy myself for a...well, a long time." He looked at the picture briefly, giving a small smile. "Let's just say I've had a lot to deal with over the last few years. Thank you for today, I do appreciate it." Easy, boy. Don't get all mushy on me, all that leads to is trouble, especially where women are involved. Just keep smilin', and don't do anything stupid. Quinn idly flipped through his own pictures, taken from the feature on his PDA, until he reached a rather humorous one of him and Elizabeth in front of the Coliseum. He'd actually managed to get her with the "bunny ears" on that one. "'s amazing what those old-school architects could build, aye? The statues just seem so lifelike."

At the moment, yes.

Quinn leaned back on the park bench, holding up a small pack of souvenirs and grinning. "Thoroughly entertaining. You'd make a fair tour guide, Miss Elizabeth." Inside, his feelings were decidedly more mixed. On the one hand, he'd had one of the most entertaining and relaxing days in his life, even before Scratch and the museum...but on the other, she'd taken a lot of pictures of him, and that might come back to bite him later. Still, he'd managed to avoid mentioning anything incriminating, as far as he knew. And she was an extremely engaging woman, sunny, artistic, damned good looking... WhoawhoawhoawhoawhoaWHOA there, Gabe. You are in NO position to go skirt-chasing at this point in your life, buddy, just shove those thoughts right outta your head. That, and the last time he'd ever chased after a woman was back in GC. And She was enough to keep him off...interesting...women for life. He snapped the pensive look off of his face and gave a half-smile to Muse again, nodding at the other tourists walking around. "So, enjoy visiting any monuments in particular?"

Quinn ducked into a nearby covered doorway a few blocks away, leaning on the interior of the cubby and breathing heavily. He carefully peered outside, scanning the skies for any sign of Victory...but didn't see a thing. "Bugger." Taking a moment to rest under cover, he pulled his scarf down and mopped his face. Whoever that cyborg was, he was damn fast, and persistent as all hell, not to mention the fact that he was starting to run outta juice. Admittedly that little bit of chaos didn't cost him much, but anything major was probably going to drain him completely by this point. He pushed his scarf back into position before risking one more look into the sky, ducking back under cover after a quick scan. He couldn't just go walking out there, that warhammer was a dead giveaway now...he facepalmed. Now AEGIS knew he had the damn thing too. Not that he was going to just toss it, it was too useful for that, but he needed a plan and fast. Ok. No way flying'd work, not with Tin Can Man up there. Way too fast for me, even if I went full-bore...and no way I can do that for more than a few seconds. Gotta fade, the question is...how?

"What?! NO!" The hand closed around him and he struggled vainly in it's grip. "You fools! This...is impossible! I am the chosen of the Horned One! His emissary to this unclean world! I cannot be defeated like this...I am invincible! NoOoOoOoOoOoOo!" The runes above the fire blinked out as he screeched, scrabbling at the hand as it reared back and threw him. His body flew across the distance and slammed into yet another crate, causing the ones on top to topple and bury him in wood and packing beans. As the avalanche covered him, the flames leapt high into the air, a mighty roar filling the warehouse...then were abruptly sucked down into the pit, vanishing...leaving only a small indent in the concrete filled with small scraps of canvas and a couple of charred sticks.

O_O Yeah, he's not blocking that. Ok, congratulations! You have won the fight! Or HAVE you...

Hmm, that's actually a pretty cool stunt. Keep the HP on that one, Jack ;)