SpicyWaffle

Watching with stupefied amazement as the hulking blue giant went about demolishing the ninjas from his hidden vantage point. Nice to see he wasn't alone amongst the throngs of ninja terrorizing the mall! But what was their beef? What could Millennium Mall possibly hold for a bunch of high-tech ninjutsu nuts like these? They couldn't be here for the sale on designer jeans; they had to have some kind of purpose. Whatever the reason, he'd figure it out later. Looking to the corner of the heads-up display, the happy looking digital bee gave a thumbs up as all the armor's systems finished coming online. And not a moment too soon, as in the hub-bub of beating those wasp-motif villains down, two more were quickly moving in from behind against the enormous man, electric swords drawn to deliver the coup de grace! "Yo! Look out!" came the clarion call of the Bee-Keeper as he kicked in the flimsy dressing room door, sending it splintered and broken across the carpeted floor. In a flurry of blasts and wha-thumps, the bee-themed superhero seized the initiative and caught the pair of sneaky ninja by surprise; catching one with a glob of honey and affixing him to the floor, whilst the other received a painful blast of energy to the torso, sending him reeling across the floor beside his colleague. Quite pleased with himself, the Bee-Keeper III struck a dynamic pose; heroic, albeit perhaps cliche' and over the top. But the situation soon brought him back to his senses as a thought crossed his mind: he looked an awful lot like those ninjas! "Whoa, whoa! I'm on your zzide!" insisted the armored Hero of the Hive, hands flailing at the wrist as if to swear to his own authenticity. "I'm the Bee-Keeper III - bee, not a wazzp!"

Binti, having already espoused his sentiments on this little pet project turned upside down, was on the verge of tears when he laid eyes on the little transmogrified girl and her mother. The mammoth of a gorilla might have been a crook, but it was hard to say if he was really so bad - though while he showed great empathy for the suffering of the child, the rest of the Monkey Bunch seemed unfazed. "Like I said, I... didn't want none a'this! I don't know nothin' 'bout turnin' em' back to normal," Binti said, his body slowly returning itself to its temperate norm. No doubt the pale imitation of a true gorilla gangster was wearing thin on the foreign muscle. "I ain't no egghead! Only Chimpsky and the lady know how to fix it!" At that, Doctor Chimpsky and Sammy began to stir, rising groggily from cold-induced comas. It's quite the startling realization as they soon saw things had unraveled rather quickly, Chimpsky rising and re-affixing his glasses with a palpable groan whilst Sammy, much more cool and collected, simply smiled and raised his hands in defeat. "Circumstances... unforeseeable. Why we needed tests," Chimpsky groaned again as if out of rationalization, looking down at his PDA even as he held his sand-paper mitts up in surrender. "Could be corrected. Even if wanted to help, could be very tricky... would need time," the scientist babbled on, his words quick and precise, seemingly intentional in his means of cutting free any unneeded vernacular. "Ain't nothin' doin'," Sammy interjected, his gaze hostile but reserved as he surveyed Frost and the transformed monkeys in front of him, his voice strangely silky for a chimpanzee. "We help them, and we get carted off to the Big House. You want us to turn these hairless apes back to normal? Cool, sure Doc C'll be more'n happy to oblige... but we need somethin' in return. You scratch our backs, and we... well, we'll fix this whole shindig."

Excerpted from Chat: So, stuff... Extra Efforting to pick up Light Control 10 as an Alternate Power. Bee-Keeper won't use a Hero Point to fight the Fatigue, and just suck up being tired. DC15 Survival Check to Find Supplies: 1d20 → [20] = (20) Baxter Bowles - MASTER SURVIVALIST!

"Alright," Bee-Keeper agreed, nodding his affirmation to Blue Jay. "Then I guezz... I guezz we make for a Harvezzt Zzupermarket. We're gonna need zztuff. Food, water, medizzine... I don't know, whatever we can get our handzz on. I don't know how long we could bee here," the boy tried to rationalize, though it was clear the prospect of staying for any period of time within this sterilized war-torn world was more than disconcerting. "There'zz one up around here zzomewhere. Down on Paragon Way, I think. Zzhouldn't take uzz too long." Of all the places in the city to bunker down, it was strange even for Baxter to make a bee-line for this one, though it wasn't quite where he remembered it, though the teenage superhero chalked that up to the situation at large - after all, everything looked different when it was in the middle of being destroyed. When the duo finally found their way to it, the ruined outlet that was the City Center's Harvest Supermarket had all the same signs of despondency; a vast and sudden emptiness that rivaled Freedom Hall, a small cadre of corpses littering the outside of a smashed front window. But it was far and away better in his option than hunkering down on the streets themselves, his nerves shot as a grim sense of foreboding nipped at the edge of his mind at the sight of the newest batch of deceased. He'd seen the decayed remnants of what few lives had been lost along the way - a mortifying sight, to say the least, but it didn't make it any easier to look on upon them again anew. The insides looked deserted through the black-and-white vision of the helmet; not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. At least that meant that Omegadrone hunting them wasn't lurking inside, waiting to ambush them... or, at least, as far as he could tell. "Lookzz clear. C'mon," whispered the armored hero as he took the lead. Through the HUD behind his helmet, Baxter let loose a teeny swarm of metallic bee-like robots, each one emitting a subtle glow as they expelled their contained energy to create an impromptu source of illumination; not unlike tiny stars . As he began his trek towards the inner sanctum of the grocery store, delicately stepping over the broken bones and glass alike as carefully as he could muster in his tin suit. It was an eerie sort of quietness in the place. Even now, he could recall it being packed to the brim whenever his parents forced him to tag along. Quickly banishing those thoughts, Baxter took a deep breath. He had to stay focused. One thing at a time. "I guezz we zztart looking for zztuff we can uzze. We can... we can hang out in the back of the store to lay low until the zzun comezz up," he mumbled as he looked to the remaining aisles. With the bright glow of the robo-bees lighting the way, it didn't make Baxter feel any more peaceful in the well-lit store. Pushing his unease aside from ransacking the store, the gold-and-black colored youth took to ravaging the store for anything, battling as much with dust and mold as he was with expiration dates. In all truth, he didn't know what exactly to look for, save that it would likely be canned - a fact, unfortunately, that didn't make things at all easy. Midway through his rummaging, another broadcast pierced its way through his helmet as a familiar voice flooded the channel again. For a moment, Baxter had forgotten he'd flipped the commlink back on, surprised to hear another voice echoing into his ears. In a moment of hesitation, the Bee-Keeper once more reconsidered the offer proposed by the supposed member of the Liberty League. While it was obvious they were still in cahoots with that Omegadrone who'd been there when he first woke up within this new nightmare, things had decidedly taken a turn for the worse. The Freedom League was either dead or missing, the pair were being hounded by allies of Omega, and they were struggling to get by for the night. Their list of allies was pretty non-existent now, thanks in no small part to Baxter's own outburst against Stratos. Baxter, however, said nothing as he maneuvered to the side of the aisle, looking to Blue Jay for guidance.

Tearing himself away from the grisly display once more, the Bee-Keeper followed Blue Jay to the gaping orifice Stratos had left in his wake. He'd noticed the quietness - that eerie, unnatural stillness - but it was only now when she mentioned it did he really look at it. How it felt... he didn't know. Stale, but that wasn't quite right. Crisp, maybe? As if the invasion were still fresh. There was no ash, or bodies. At least, not really. It was like things had just been paused; perpetually frozen mid-apocalypse. "Maybee," Bee-Keeper mumbled, pondering the Terminus survivors' words. "Maybee... maybee that wazz Zztratozz' zzecret? But if they left or juzzt vanizzhed or whatever, then where did they go?" Surveying the scene of the city in ruins again, a sigh of exasperation escaped the armored teen. He shouldn't have been so hasty in driving the doctor away. But what was done was done. Still without answers, Baxter was only getting more questions out of the delicate situation. "Zzo, what? A whole zzity juzzt dizzappeared overnight? Why? And why bring uzz here if it'zz juzzt zzome... zzome empty ghozzt town?" Baxter inquired, flattening his antennae as he ran a cold metal hand against his helmet; though he had his suspicions. The mysteriously eerie Omegadrone whom had contacted him spoke of a master, and a test... and how Blue Jay was already doomed. He turned to the girl beside him panning the cityscape, distress etched on his face but thankfully hidden behind the flat and unflinching veneer of the Bee-Keeper Armor's helm. He wasn't sure if he should tell her. Not yet, anyway. There was a lot going on, and even more to digest. But for now, it was going to have to take a backseat. The darkening horizons weren't going to make it easy to snoop around for where the people had supposedly vanished, and Freedom Hall had been compromised by Stratos' wanton destruction. If there was going to be any investigating, it was going to have to wait until they could actually see what they were looking at... provided they lasted the night in its frigid clime and hostile environment. They needed to be someplace safe; somewhere far from Freedom Hall, but familiar enough to be defensible, Baxter wagered. He didn't know too many places like that... but he did know one. "Look, we're not gonna get anywhere elzze tonight - not without getting zzome zzhelter. Pretty zzoon, we're going to be trapped in here in the dark. We... we can't zztay here, ezzpecially after Zztratozz did hizz thing. Not when that Omegadrone might zztumble in here and catch uzz while we're zzleeping," the teenager explained as he mimed towards the gigantic hole, trying his best to sound like he knew what he was doing. Sleep was the last thing on his mind, but they did need someplace to lay low. "I... I know a plazze. Zzort of. But unlezz you know zzomewhere we can hide till' the... uh... zzun or whatever comezz out, I'm all earzz."

That nice air of calm in the middle of the turbulent storm of eager bargain hunters was silenced, so to speak, when the unexpected happened: ninjas! And not just any ninjas - these were ninjas dressed like bugs! Like wasps! Kinda like Bee-Keeper! "Great. First it's robotic wasps, now wasp ninjas. Fantastic." Practically choking on his meal as the uncomfortably similar assailants began to accost the good patrons of the mall, Baxter sputtered and coughed in a feeble attempt to get out of his seat and find some place secluded - judging by the aggressive measures these pajama wearing fools were taking, Millennium Mall needed someone to save them! But as he rose from the plastic-and-steel chair he'd so surreptitiously taken up to enjoy his meal prior, Baxter Bowles soon became the target of one of the menacing masked men! "Bié dòng!!" barked the high-tech assassin gruffly in an unknown language as Baxter stumbled to his feet, the figure drawing a flat - but clearly electrified! - blade from the scabbard on his back. The African-American teenager tried to sputter out a sharp quip of his own as the man approached, still struggling to swallow the teriyaki as it traveled down the wrong portion of his esophagus. Unable to adequately dislodge the wandering fragment of his meal, it was clear that quip would have to wait; a different sort of reply was going to be necessary. Grabbing his backpack from off of the back of his chair, Baxter did what any mild mannered teenager would do if they were completely insane and being approached by an armed ninja: slung it by the shoulder straps like an impromptu club, catching the bug-eyed master of subterfuge across the face with a bag of reinforced steel and polymer metals as though it were a sock with a lock in it! The armed assailant staggered and stumbled backwards, reeling from the weighty blow before collapsing. Two more of his friends, somewhat surprised, looked to the boy with distinct purpose: they were going to put him down! "Oh, man! Oh, man! Oh, man!" the high school student mentally chided, turning tail as they began to move towards him against the panicked crowd. He had one shot at losing them; and so, with all the reckless abandon his youth could muster within the situation, Baxter leapt from the second floor of the food court towards the tiled floor below! With a painful wince as he connected with the concrete, rolling from the impact of the haphazard landing, the winded hero-in-disguise dove for the nearest boutique for cover, desperate to elude the incredibly dangerous assailants assaulting the mall. Despite the soreness of his collision with the concrete, Baxter managed to drag himself into what appeared to be some sort of sports apparel shop, maneuvering his bruised butt under the cover of a circular rack of jogging pants. Watching as the pair of armed goons moved beyond the store in search of the boy who'd slugged their pal, Baxter crept out from his hidey-hole and into the nearby deserted changing room. "Note to self: don't jump over rails anymore," he winced as he set his backpack on one of the pegs inside the door, pulling the concealed albeit hefty battlesuit from out of its makeshift camouflage and setting it down on the little bench inside. Pulling out his cell, Baxter flipped the little display on, eager to dial for the police... and, instead, was greeted by a lack of bars. So much for the cops! "Typical." Changing gears, Baxter hefted up the stocky box-shaped metallic container and with the press of a button, the battlesuit whirred to life, encasing the young teen in the comforting shell of gold-and-black bee-themed protective armor. It would take the suit a moment to get things oriented; hopefully the distraught citizens could hold out until then!

As Baxter's temperament cooled, all he could do was watch as Stratos took his leave. At first, the young teenager didn't think anything of the old man's sudden change of heart; the way he almost seemed depressed in the wake of the harshness of words espoused by his supposed friend. Good riddance to the nuisance of a man! He'd caused them nothing but trouble! But then it began to sink in; the loneliness Stratos must have felt in the wake of the renewed invasion, forgotten by his former friends and allies, forced to live a life amongst the ruins of Freedom City - a place that, perhaps, was just as much the mad doctors' home as it was for Baxter. And, for once, the Bee-Keeper felt true sympathy for a villain. He knew what it felt like now, cast into a world as twisted and ruinous as this. There was no one he could call on for help that he knew beyond Blue Jay: no Fleur, nor Cobalt Templar, or even Gabriel. His friends... Baxter's mind wondered for a moment as Stratos slipped out of sight into the eerie grey sky above through the very hole he'd created in his entrance. "If I was here... if I was still the Bee-Keeper, did they even try to look for me? Did they even get the chance? Maybe we all just... maybe I..." The teenager shook his head, rubbing it with one hand where his forehead probably was as he forcibly returned himself to the realm of the now and away from his darkening thoughts. The weight of everything was getting to him; and now? Now he'd lashed out and gone too far. But he couldn't abandon Blue Jay; not even to reclaim Stratos. There was no telling if - or when - anyone would come snooping around the scene of the light show. The two teens needed to get what they needed and beat a hasty retreat. "Zzorry," the Hero of the Hive whispered after the pitiful doctor before turning back around to face his friend and the monitors beyond. "... C'mon. Let'zz... let'zz take another look at thozze tapezz. There'zz gotta bee zzomething. There hazz to bee."

"Or you'll what?" one of the men threatened, brandishing his crowbar menacingly as a grim expression of determination etched its way along his black-clad face. While his colleague beside him agreed with a nod and readied his own pry bar, the other man closest to the door into the Go-Mart didn't seem so certain. "You think we're scared of some wannabe cape in a tin suit?! You better think twice - I ain't goin' nowhere, specially not to the police just 'cause some guy in a costume told me to!" With a wistful sigh, the bee-themed teen put a hand to his noggin, exasperated by the all too familiar scene of criminals choosing to do things the hard way. It was almost ironic, really. You try to be nice, and what do you get? Oh, you get all the back talk, of course. "Man, zzeriouzzly? No one ever wantzz to do it the eazzy way?" the Bee-Keeper moaned, slumping as if in defeat. "You guyzz win. What am I gonna do againzzt dudezz with crowbarzz and zztuff?" said the hero as he turned around, his voice a mocking, satirical jib of a loss. "Guezz I'll juzzt go home and-- BLAM!" In a whirlwind flurry of activity, the gold-and-black hero spun back around on his heel, hand outstretched and palm laid out towards the criminal with the silver tongue. In one loud thump, a stream of honey-colored liquid struck the man soundly, knocking him off his feet and against the brick wall beside the ATM he'd only moments prior attempted to liberate from its stony home, where the man remained affixed quite soundly. "You guyzz crack me up. Thizz izz Freedom Zzity! You know how many zzuperheroezz live here? And you think you're gonna juzzt get outta thizz mezz by beating me up? Zzeriouzzly! How lame izz that?" the armored avenger quipped back towards the other two men who remained still, shocked that their friend had so thoroughly been dealt with in one spontaneous motion. "Jokezz azzide though, you guyzz can zztill zzurrender. No hard feelingzz or anything!"

It had been a while since Baxter had been to the mall - a trip that usually only transpired when he could some how corral the time, or when forcibly persuaded by his friends to make the sojourn. Still, it was a welcome change of pace; a gleeful reprieve from the hustle-and-bustle of crime fighting in lieu of an afternoon amidst the eager holiday shoppers that littered the multitude of shops ingrained within Millennium Mall. While he might have been saddled with his impromptu vacation alone, it was still nice in a strange way; getting a chance to just sit back, relax, and return to some temporary sense of teenage normalcy. And so here he sat at the food court amidst the ruckus of shoppers, a smile creasing his lips as he tore into another teriyaki shishkabob on his plate, his mysterious yet nondescript backpack slung over the back of his chair. Despite the uproarious surroundings, it was still pleasant just to putz around indoors without having to worry so much about villains trying to take his head off or gigantic robots laying siege to his face. "Definitely need to chill out more often," thought Baxter, tearing another piece of succulent chicken from the wooden skewer in his hand as he watched the people.

ERMERGERSH, Stratos! Why must you continue to muck everything up?! RAAAAGE! Move Action: Get right up in Stratos' face. Yes, I'm totally serious. Standard Action: Ready an All-Out (+5 Attack/-5 Defense) Power Attack (+5 Damage/-5 Attack) Strike 10 against Stratos in-case he makes a move to start a fracas. In addition, the Bee-Keeper III will spend a Hero Point to activate Beginner's Luck, picking up +5 to Intimidate (for a total of +9: 5 + 4 Charisma), and go for the Intimidate Check to diffuse the situation before it escalates any further. Here's a roll for the Strike if necessary: 1d20+10 → [5,10] = (15) Intimidate +9 Check vs. Doctor Stratos: 1d20+9 → [5,9] = (14) Bah! No way. Gonna spend another Hero Point for that to improve the roll. C'mon, Dice Gods! What'd I ever do to you? :| Intimidate +9 Check vs. Doctor Stratos (Minimum 10): 1d20+9 → [14,9] = (23); I can live with this. Bee-Keeper III has 2 Hero Points left.

Thankful at first that the computers they'd found were still operational, Baxter's already somber mood took a turn for the worst as the scene unfolded across the monitors, displaying in graphic detail what had befallen this Freedom City. All he could do was watch in mortified silence, eyes burning as they unblinkingly stared at the carnage recorded for prosperity, unfit for anyone's eyes. He bit his lip hard - it was all he could do to stave off tears of sadness and bitter anger, the unmistakable urge to break the machines playing back the horrors of yesteryear practically palpable in his mind. But he had to watch, both unwilling and unable to turn away. That is, until Stratos thought it prudent to cave the wall in behind them in a show of force. Ripped from the grisly reel, the Bee-Keeper whirled to meet the mad meteorologist, both surprised and aggravated at his appearance. Shock and dismay quickly shifted to ire, however, as the monomaniacal villain made his threats, made all the worse as it seemed Blue Jay's words fell flat against his diabolical facade. Baxter was angry - at the situation, at himself, at Stratos. But this latest stunt? And at such a critical juncture? No. No, this wouldn't stand. "That'zz it! I've had it up to here with thizz plazze!" snapped the heavily-armed teenager hidden behind the bug-eyed helmet, his voice frantic and laced with scorn as it rose into a vicious shout, fists clenched in unadulterated fury. Striding right up to the floating man crackling with energy, Baxter took charge of the situation - he'd stand for no more of Stratos' shenanigans. "You lizzten to me, you idiot! I've been tozzed into a hellizzh nightmare a kajillion milezz from home, I have no idea how I got here, no clue how to get back! No friendzz, no family, and everyone who could have pozzibly helped uzz izz pretty much DEAD! I'm being chazzed by Omegadronezz through what'zz left of Freedom Zzity, and now? Now, when we have a chanzze to frickin' get zzome anzzwerzz and figure out how to get away from thizz living Hell, I have to put up with an inzzane, belligerent, overly glorified weather man who can't let go of zzome zztupid grudge or zztop trying to bring everything that wantzz to kill uzz RIGHT HERE!" The boy seethed, huffing hard into the modulator of his suit as the familiar burning of his eyes began to take hold, emotions roiling inside him like a miasmic tempest on the verge of a deluge. He was so close to a breakdown he could feel it, his body as tense as steel even without the armor; every muscle in his body clenched hard as he grit his teeth and raged at the insane shadow of a supervillain. "Zzo help me, Zztratozz, if you don't zzit down and zzhut up right now, I zzwear - I ZZWEAR!!! - I will put you down zzo hard you'll wizzh Captain Thunder would zzave you!!"

Morrison Street Go-Mart, 10:56 PM December 12th, 2012 The West End, Freedom City ------------------------------------------------- There was something about the chilly weather that always set Baxter's heart aflutter. It was a hearkening of winter, with Christmas - and, more importantly, Christmas vacation! - looming on the horizon. It was a time of merriment and festivities, and even here in the shadier side of the West End, the multitude of row houses and urban complexes screamed with festooned lights, blinking and glowing pleasantly in the night against the fresh white piles of snow, Baxter - incognito as the Bee-Keeper! - watched with great enjoyment from above as he swooped over the sprawling sea of asphalt below the darkened sky. But not everyone seemed to be in good spirits, as the Hero of the Hive soon discovered as he soared over a nearby row of homes and an all too familiar store came into view: a Go-Mart, its '24/7' light gently flickering from disrepair but nonetheless signaling its openness to all. But this was no ordinary pit stop for hungry pedestrians or thirsty teenagers prowling the streets for action on a Wednesday night; no, this one in particular was in the midst of a heist! Three men clad in black leathers and ski-masks stood astride the wall-mounted automated teller machine, two of them busily beating against the bricks of the simple store in an endeavor to pry it free! The other one was quickly exiting what had to be their intended get-away vehicle, the truck bed empty and awaiting its delicious monetary cargo. Probably armed and eager to host a theft most sinister, there was no way he could just let them walk in all hoity-toity and stick up some honest Joe for some cash! It was totally harshing his Christmas cheer! Plummeting sharply to the ground with a discernibly audible thump just beside the goons attempting to strong-arm the ATM out of the all-too-welcoming convenience store, it was clear that the insectile hero had gotten their attention as they whirled around to meet his steely personage, surprise etched across their faces. "Heya, fellazz!" greeted the surprisingly upbeat superhero with a cordial wave, his other hand clenched in a fist and resting against his metallic hip dramatically. "Kinda late to be out makin' a withdrawl?" His tone was quite chipper, modulation and all. But this wasn't some social call; the way the armored vigilante stood, it was obvious he meant business - the kind of business crooks really didn't need to be embroiled in, if they could help it in any way. "How about you guyzz juzzt walk away and turn yourzzelvezz in to the polizze, and we'll call it zzquarzziezz, huh?"

OOC thread for Gabriel and Bee-Keeper III's wacky social shenanigans!

This can't possibly end well >_> Bee-Keeper's Initiative +6: 1d20+6 → [10,6] = (16)

Despite Blue Jay's surprising knowledge of the Hall's layout and her self-identifying relationship with the Terminus, the Bee-Keeper was surprisingly quiet about it. It was the shock, really - he'd never known anyone from another dimension, let alone one ravaged by the Terminus. He wanted to bombard his pierced colleague with questions; for any shred of hope beyond these Furions and this mysterious Silver Tree from her lips. But the young lady was right - time was short. They needed to find out where specifically they were. "Alright," agreed the apiary hero, a stoic nod thrown Blue Jay's way as he took a deep breath to steel his nerves. With who-knows-what on its way after Stratos' crazed outburst, they needed to move now more than ever. Freedom Hall probably wouldn't be safe for too much longer if that Omegadrone was still hot on their heels. If there was any hope of finding out how they got here or how to get back, they needed to hustle up. Taking the lead, the armored teenager moved forward, eager to find these computers - he could only pray that they were still operational after the devastation that had befallen the eerily silent remains of Freedom Hall. "Zzoundzz like a deal." Trekking onward, the Bee-Keeper and his protective hide moved ahead, eyes scouring the shadow of symbolic hope for the room chalk full of PCs Blue Jay mentioned.

Grimacing at Donahue's unwavering dedication towards keeping the pair of heroes from prying further into the situation, the Bee-Keeper could only silently agree to the officer's insistence. Baxter wanted to know what the deal with the giant wasp was. He wanted to see inside that lockbox. But what was he going to do? Strong arm the box from the policemen after saving the day? It looked like - at least for now - the pair of heroes were going to be stuck waiting for news as to who was behind this. For the first time, the law had him by the arm. It was an uncomfortable feeling, knowing that despite the fact he could do something, he couldn't do anything. Just grin and bear; there wasn't an alternative. "You'll totezz be the firzzt perzzon I give a ring if I hear anything elzze," agreed the armored vigilante, hesitating only momentarily before taking Red Moon's spindly hand in his own and giving it as light a shake as he could muster and passing along a small scissor-cut index card bearing a radio frequency in shoddy handwriting. Even doing so, the Hero of the Hive couldn't help but throw a look towards Donahue as the officer returned to his duties, notepad still gripped in the palm of his hand. "Hope it won't take em' too long to figure out what'zz going on." Following suit and admitting defeat in discovering the secrets of the vault, the Bee-Keeper III gave a salute to the remaining rescued civilians, spreading his wings with a sharp swish of steel against air. With the day saved, Baxter was left with another challenge still on his plate: finishing up his classes at school! With a friendly wave and a whoosh as his sharp wings began beating furiously, the yellow-and-black hero took to the skies, vanishing against the sun.

"Crazy. Yeah..." There came a moment where the Bee-Keeper could only stare at the shadow of what was once Doctor Stratos, his insane babbling and supposed camaraderie with his uncle all the more unnerving in the wake of the world around them. A slight blush tinged Baxter's face even as he mentioned Blue Jay; more so out of irritation than being singled out for his tastes. How the raving lunatic could joke at a time like this only furthered the growing ire for everything around poor Baxter. "Zzometimezz I wonder," the Bee-Keeper replied forcibly, not even bothering to reciprocate the shoulder clap, his attempt at subterfuge lackluster. Following much further along behind Stratos and Blue Jay, the clunkier of the trio was struggling to get through the pipeline; metal grinding against the cold and callous innards of the former city's plumbing as they crept into what was hopefully Freedom Hall's garden, a screeching echo haunting the armored teenager with every inch taken. It was hard to see what was going on, per se, beyond the grizzled mad doctor in front of him zapping security systems with electrical bolts, save for the familiar glow of arcing lightning crackling through the air and beyond wherever his archery-focused comrade remained hidden. But finally, the crackling of his radio came through his helmet as he remained sullenly silent within its confines. With Blue Jay on the other end, a small sigh of relief found him; it must be safe. "I'm here," Baxter replied stoically, trying his best to retain his confidence as it struggled to flee the scene. "Hang on. We're almozzt through." Following after the mad doctor as he exited into the gardens, the Bee-Keeper was right behind him. Looking around, it wasn't any surprise to Baxter as he saw the wreckage that was Freedom Hall. The rest of the city was in tatters... it was unlikely that the center of the city's defenses was liable to still be standing. But his heart sank as he caught up with Blue Jay and spied the statue of Captain Thunder and the date of his death. It already felt like his world was turned upside-down, but now, in light of the memorial, he again felt strange - as though his brain had just taken a sudden left turn into confusion. "But... but Captain Thunder'zz alive," he murmured quietly through his modulated voice, still oggling what might as well have been a gravemarker. "I mean, he wazz zztill alive after the Terminuzz Invazzion. Wazzn't he?" The last bit seemed almost out-of-place as it escaped the boy's lips, mind endeavoring to comprehend the significance of the curious date affixed to the tombstone. The Bee-Keeper was certain he was; as far back as he could remember before this new nightmare, the leader of the Freedom League was still out saving the day alongside Fleur de Joie and all the other more renowned members. He hadn't been dead for more than a decade! He just couldn't have been! This wasn't home. But if it wasn't home, then where was it? And more importantly, how did they get here? Brought back into reality with a crack of thunder, the Bee-Keeper was startled by Stratos' sudden beligerence - a cascade of electicity striking from the skies with one tumultuously audible whiplash after another, illuminating everything around them in a flash of showy force. But even as the shock of the scene wore off, the Bee-Keeper said nothing - why bother? The man wasn't all there, and it was unlikely that whatever 'Barry' said to his friend and ally would ultimately fall on deaf ears. He was a broken old man, and Baxter? Baxter was right there with him to a degree; the weight of the world bearing down upon him as he struggled to make sense of this whole ordeal. Maybe those so-called heroes were on to something... maybe that Omegadrone really wasn't as vile as they claimed. Or maybe Baxter really was going crazy, jarred by the unending onslaught of dismay. It was hard to say, with the fear and panic rife in his mind, the uncertainty of his friends and family overwhelming in his thoughts. They were here; and while the doctor's barrage of thunderbolts was no doubt bright enough for everyone - or, worse, everything - to see, they might not have a lot of time left to snoop around. Bee-Keeper and Blue Jay needed to find their answers quick. "I don't know where we are, but we need to figure it out. Fazzt," barked the armored vigilante just before the pair of heroes began their trek through the ruined sanctum of the Freedom League. Shooting a look towards Stratos as they began their sojourn, the Bee-Keeper thrust an accusatory finger the villain's way, waggling it sternly to illustrate his point. "Zztay here and keep a look out, Zztratozz. If you zzee anything, juzzt... I dunno, if it lookzz bad, zzap firzzt and azzk quezztionzz later." It was clear to the Bee-Keeper that he wasn't in Kansas anymore, but that still left he and his erstwhile compatriot stranded in a world ravaged by the Terminus. And Blue Jay - from what little she'd conveyed - seemed to know at least something about worlds torn asunder in such a fashion. It was her idea to scour this landmark of the dead; and she was still right. If anyone had answers, it was likely to be found here within Freedom Hall - though not the answers Baxter was originally interested in. Waiting until they were further out and away from Stratos in his garden-resigned madness, the Hero of the Hive turned back to his arrow-slinging friend, taking charge as he scoured the ruined cafeteria for any sort of clues. "You zzaw that zztatue. No way we're in Freedom Zzity... y'know, our Freedom Zzity. Thizz plazze izzn't right - thizz whole thing izzn't right! We need to find zzomething that can tell uzz how we got here. I don't know if anyone elzze zzaw that lightzzhow back there, but if they did, they're probably on their way here." Pausing for a moment, the Bee-Keeper stopped his scurrying amongst the debris and turned-over tables of the mess hall, pondering their options. "It could take all day to zzift through thizz... thizz plazze," he said, clearly unnerved by the sights around them. "We need... I don't know. Zzecurity tapezz? Zzome kind of computer? Zzomething. There'zz gotta be zzome kind of info on how we got here, and it'zz all we've got to go on. It'zz not much, but maybee it'll give uzz a clue... I mean, I didn't wake up too far from Freedom Hall, zzo maybee..." he began, though the Bee-Keeper soon trailed off. Out of his element, it took everything he had just to keep himself composed; all he wanted to do was curl into a ball and cry, but he couldn't. Not now. Not while something hunted them on this foreign world burnt to cinders, its perpetual stillness matched only by its eerily chill wind. "... I don't know. I juzzt... I don't know what to do, Jay. We're zztuck here with a crazzy old man, zzome Omegadrone zztalking uzz, and zzome zzo-called zzuperheroezz working with em'! How're we zzuppozzed to deal with thizz? How're we zzuppozzed to get back home?"

It struck the Bee-Keeper as peculiar that so many mercenaries would risk life and limb raiding anything even remotely close to Freedom City, given its booming heroic population. Still, it made a strange sort of sense, and it was rather fortuitous that the Hero of the Hive just happened along in the nick of time. Had he not been so lucky, things could have likely ended in a wholly different manner - a manner of which Baxter wasn't too keen on pondering given the weaponry the goons were brandishing. At the mention of her mainframe prying the info free from the contents of the destroyed sphere attacking Dawes Tech, the Bee-Keeper nodded his agreement. The sooner they knew what this whole fiasco was about, the sooner they could put the perpetrator behind bars! Baxter drifted from the scene for just a moment, only to be brought back to reality by Jessica's newest query. He perked up slightly, both dreading the explanation yet excited to clear the air if she thought he was some villainous cad. "Yep!" Bee-Keeper chimed, straightening up from his slouched position with a low groan from his comfy chair. "Third in a long line of crazzy kookzz with a thing for beezz. Y'know, sanzz the villainouzz zztuff. And, whoo, talk about an uphill battle there!" he laughed, returning to his more comfortable positon and resting his elbows upon his metallic knees as he looked to his host lounging on the sofa. "Uzzed to bee that every zzuperhero in Freedom wanted to deck me in the fazze. Fleur'zz really done a lot for me; putting in a word that I'm not zzome inzzane criminal or up to no good. It'zz hard enough fighting guyzz with flying zzaucerzz without zzome new hero trying to make a name outta me!"

"Sorry. You want to see what's inside? You'll have to take that up with the Chief and whoever owns the box," Donahue mused back sternly, not even bothering to look up from his pad of paper. He seemed to understand the foreign visitor's concern for keeping things hush-hush and desire to see what was inside, but his gruff rebuke spoke volumes on his personality: he was bound by the letter of the law, and the badge he wore meant he was obligated to uphold that letter. Looking to the variety of scorch marks that littered the street, the nearby buildings, and the police cars still parked in front of the bank, Officer Donahue just whistled and cocked his head slightly towards the fiasco dying down behind them. "But you ain't kiddin' about those guns," he murmured, adjusting the brim of his hat before returning to his stoic no-nonsense demeanor again. "This is some serious firepower - we're talking beyond military grade. If even one of us had been hit..." The policeman almost seemed to shudder at the thought as he trailed off, looking again towards the heroes as he shrugged. "Yeah. The Malanti don't have a lot of connections in the gun trafficking ring. At least, they didn't until today, as far as I knew. Whoever supplied them with these guns must be pretty high up the food chain. We'll need to perform a proper investigation and get some detectives on the scene first before we start ruling things out, but from where I'm standing I don't think this is any kind of high-tech smash-and-grab. This was planned; had to have been. They knew when to hit the bank and catch the clerks, had all the tools to crack the safe, and enough firepower to overpower us. If you guys hadn't shown up, we'd have been calling in the big guns, and there's no telling how that would have played out." Officer Donahue scribbled down on his notepad again briskly, wasting no time in adding his own notation about the procured weaponry by the low-caliber gang. He stopped his scrawling finally and looked back up towards the pair of saviors whom had foiled the diabolical heist. "I may not agree with the way you superhero types operate under-the-radar, but you did good today. I'll... hrm... I'll see what I can do about letting you get a look in that box, and let you know what I find out about these Malanti and their new toys. Don't take this too personally now; I just owe you two a favor for saving the day."

It was clear now that Stratos was going to make his move, thanks in no small part to Blue Jay's smooth talking ways. Baxter was getting impatient - he couldn't hide forever, and he certainly wasn't exactly a master of stealth and subterfuge. Following along quietly was simply out of the question; not to mention a reckless proposition, given how jumpy Stratos was about heroes. But, perhaps, he wouldn't recognize the Bee-Keeper as a superhero... "I'm coming with you," murmured the armored avenger matter-of-factly, mustering his fractured confidence as best he could for what amounted to an almost sinister, yet nonetheless serious tone. Rounding the corner of the sewage line with heavy footfalls, the Bee-Keeper stepped into plain view for both of survivors to see, fists tightly clenched in faux self-assuredness. Doctor Stratos might have been a dangerous super-villain gone bananas, but three people were better than two - and, if nothing else, if Stratos could keep his mental fragility in check for just a bit longer, then at least Baxter and this young archer would have a heavy hitter of their own should the Omegadrone stalking them or the one from the crash site rear their heads again. In the wake of everything that Baxter had seen, he could deal with the insanity... for a little while. "Bee-Keeper. Maybee you've heard of me," he insisted, trying his best to sound like a capable sort despite all evidence to the contrary before this terrible day. But it was still a name that had weight - a name that, at one time, took the Freedom League all on their own. "Couldn't help but overhear. Lookzz like we all need to get inzzide," he began again, swallowing his fear hard, the feeling of someone watching him already causing his skin to crawl. "You're gonna need all the help you can get for thizz zzhindig, and I'm not taking no for an anzzwer."

Somewhat surprised again by Jessica's willingness to share, Baxter sat stark still as he listened to the girl's explanation. It wasn't exactly the response he was expecting, but the young armored teenager still hiding behind his heroic facade couldn't help but lean forward in his chair, emitting another creek as the weight of the conversation shifted almost fully. "You guyzz muzzt have been clozze," the Bee-Keeper buzzed back lightly, unsure how best to respond. He'd never had to deal with the loss of a loved one personally, but he understood at least on some level how the young lady must have felt. He'd have probably flung himself straight into the fray too if someone had attacked his dad's legacy. "I'm zzorry to hear he'zz gone." That awkward feeling once more prevailed. But there was a strange sense of elation associated with his awkwardness. He'd never had someone so boldly have such a conversation with him. It was odd; Baxter couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was a bizarre sense of comfortableness with the female battlesuit bearer wiggling her toes on the sofa. Maybe it was her lack of a real secret identity, though his knowledge on the who's who in the superheroic community was sorely lacking if Jessica had never had one to begin with. Regardless, it was nice to feel so welcome in the community for a change of pace. "Did you find out anything about the guyzz who attacked Dawezz while I wazz, uh, raiding your fridge?" inquired the bumblebee bruiser, clearing his throat as he did so. "Had to have been after zzomething, right? They were... I dunno, organizzed. Dizziplined. And did you zzee thozze riflezz? Yikezz!"

Content to let Blue Jay do her thing, Baxter simply stayed as best he could out of sight for the time being, clinging to the shadows of the sewers like an out of place ninja as he looked on through the darkness. The last thing he needed to do was spook the insane doctor; if he was a big enough threat for the Freedom League, there was no telling how much more he'd become in his deranged state. Despite his best endeavors to stay calm though, the Bee-Keeper was a nervous wreck; a torrent of amalgamated emotions that yearned for freedom. It didn't help to hear the archer discuss the Terminus; citing her experiences there and further shocking the armored hero, his heart skipping a beat as she mentioned the Omegadrones. How could she be from the Terminus if she was from right here in Freedom City? Did she know something she wasn't telling the young, frightened would-be hero? Regardless, the pierced teenager seemed to know more about what was going on than he did, and her confident stride into the metaphorical maw of one of Freedom City's most dangerous supervillains only further put him on edge - though her success was enough to warrant Baxter keeping his peace as he quietly battled against the brisk chill permeating the underground waterway. Stratos himself wasn't doing much to help ease his animosity. He knew things, clearly, though his madness was unsettling. The way he mentioned 'they' was even more disconcerting; his tone striking Baxter as though it were some palpable dread made manifest and cloaking his words in mired evil. And this 'secret' of his... who knew what nefarious truth the loony crook had seen? Perhaps it was the driving point that broke his mind. Perhaps it was the key to unlocking what had happened. It didn't matter. The Bee-Keeper just needed to play it cool; tipping their hand too early wouldn't help, and the sooner they got into Freedom Hall, then the sooner they'd be safe from whatever Omegadrone was stalking them like wild game and uncovering what had transpired and why they couldn't remember it.

"Yeah!" interjected the bee-themed hero, eager to set the record straight. "It wazzn't a bee. It wazz a wazzp. A wazzp! Zzeriouzzly, big differenzze!" he explained, putting what little he'd actually learned about the apian insects to meager use as he struggled to protect his good name. To be fair, it didn't look good: giant robotic wasp shows up with some lackluster goons to rob a bank, and a young man in a battlesuit styled after the same insect arrives conveniently in time to put an end to its nefarious plot. While it was truly happenstance, the clear cut coincidence was anything but. "But yeah, that'zz about it. It'zz down for the count, zzo it zzhould be... y'know, fine to poke it or whatever it izz you want to do," Baxter shrugged. He was a bit heartbroken that the officer seemed adamant about keeping the contents of the box a secret, but it wasn't his place to argue with law enforcement. The people were safe, and that was all that mattered.

Officer Donahue's suspension of disbelief was already stretched pretty thin, but the mention of the robotic bee and inquisition to investigate the strongbox was enough for the man to arch a quizzical eyebrow and throw both of the heroes a scattered look of disdain and malign judgement. He seemed bitter; though, perhaps, Donahue was just always that way. He looked like a hard man - a person who'd seen the worst of the worst and trudged right through without even blinking, his nose to the grindstone likely as often as it was on suspect of a case. "Whatever's inside is subject to a police investigation first. It could be critical evidence," the man said flatly, citing protocol in a tone as dry as desert sand as his gaze shifted from the alien woman to the scorned Bee-Keeper. "And we'll need to look into this robotic bee business. Just to be safe." Besides the scathing reply from the somewhat sardonic policemen, the scene unfolding was almost certainly a happy one - albeit, perhaps, tinged with tears. Justifiable, given the life-or-death situation many of the civilians had been locked in before Red Moon and the Bee-Keeper arrived. Some were being greeted by friends and family as they arrived outside the bank, while others remained huddled with their blankets and coffee by the ambulances, sobbing pitifully in the wake of the robbery. "Anything else?" the officer snipped as he jotted down the pair of costume vigilantes' words onto a small notebook, clearly relieved to have the situation resolved yet unhappy to be soliciting his time to the duo.

Trekking outside of the bank, the pair of heroes are welcomed not with a fanfare of praise, but a flurry of activity. Lots of screaming and shouting erupted from the police officers as they began to mobilize, their weapons drawn as they stormed into First National Bank from behind their police cruisers. Onlookers watched in awe as Freedom's Finest charged in, the tellers and clerks whom were previously held at gunpoint ogling their workplace from the safety of the ambulance as more armed men entered in blue uniforms entered, and in quick fashion began dragging out the unconscious remnants of the Malanti gang members in handcuffs who were so bold as to rob the bank in broad daylight. "Looks like I was wrong about you, bug," one of the policemen said as he moved up alongside Red Moon and the Bee-Keeper after emerging from the bank, the name tag on his lapel reading 'Donahue' across his breast. Despite the praise, the caustic look he shared between the Bee-Keeper and Red Moon was anything but friendly; a sour disposition wrapped around his face. Other officers busied themselves loading perpetrators into their cruisers one-by-one, reading their rights as their captors seemed to rouse themselves one by one. The obvious leader of the bunch was the last to be forced in, his eyes fluttering as he groggily came to from the mental assault of the Farsider. He looked out of sorts and disoriented, and it would be quite the rude awakening once he realized where he was on his way to. "It'll be a while, since we've got to clean up this mess, but the bank should be back in business within the week," he continued, fishing out a cigarette from his shirt pocket and lit it up. Even as he did so, he gave Red Moon a very peculiar glance, as if both surprised and annoyed to see another superhero on the scene. "We just need to get your statements on record about what happened inside."