SpicyWaffle

Round #3 - Initiative Order Bee-Keeper III - 21 Red Moon - 15 Malanti Thug #5 - 13 Malanti Thug #4 - 10 Malanti Leader - 10 Giant Robotic Wasp - 10 Malanti Thug #2 - 8 (Cover; Demoralized) Malanti Thug #3 - 8 (Cover) --------------------------- The Bee-Keeper III will Blast Thug #3, Taking 10 on the Attack Roll for a 20. Thug #3 Toughness Save vs. DC25 - 1d20+5 → [14,5] = (19); Failed & Unconscious! Red Moon is up!

Searing pain rippled through Baxter's body as the pair of shots found their mark across his armored abdomen. The scorch marks were as prevalent as his breath was in the cold air outside; the smoldering metal of the Bee-Keeper armor having deflected the lethal blow - but still, the force of the trauma had taken its course as the young hero wheezed and moaned. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before, as if someone had taken a red-hot fire poker and jabbed it square in his gut. Tears were welling up from the sudden shock of agony, but Baxter managed to keep his head on his shoulders. He had a job to do, and lives were counting on him! He'd just have to tough it out for now. With the honeycomb reticle narrowed down on each of the perpetrators whom had just blasted the teenaged avenger, the Bee-Keeper had to make a call. The leader of this fiasco had nearly breached the safe, but the hostages remained Baxter's top priority - the question became, however, which of the thugs to handle first. One was skittish and wired, and clearly dangerous! But the other was more composed and level-headed; both dangerous qualities that Baxter couldn't dissuade himself from fearing. There was no telling what would happen next, but if he didn't do anything at all, then he was in no better a position than when he'd started. "Here goes nothing." Gambling on the insecurities of the panicked Malanti thug, the Bee-Keeper shifted an open gauntlet towards the more calm and in-control thug holding the young woman. With a confirmatory beep from helmet's HUD, Baxter took the shot. With a slight rev, a thick blast of concussive golden energy burst from the palm of the Bee-Keeper's hand, arcing through the air like solidified lightning as it struck the focused Malanti marksman square in the shoulder with devastating, sending him reeling across the floor before ultimately collapsing with his back against the teller booth. As the woman fell prone to the ground in a shriek of terror, Baxter breathed a small sigh of relief; though she was still in mortal danger as long as all these goons were up in arms! "Zztay down!" shouted the Hero of the Hive, trying his best to sound bold and confident as he instructed the sobbing civilian not to move. At least the modulation of his voice hid the cracking uncertainty in his voice. No doubt whatever happened next was going to happen fast - the Bee-Keeper just prayed he could liberate the other one and take care of the remaining thugs before any more unexpected surprises took hold.

Round #2 - Initiative Order Bee-Keeper III - 21 Malanti Thug #5 - 13 Malanti Thug #4 - 10 Malanti Leader - 10 Giant Robotic Wasp - 10 Malanti Thug #2 - 8 (Cover; Demoralized) Malanti Thug #3 - 8 (Cover) -------------------------- Bee-Keeper III will Taunt Malanti Thug #2: Take 10 = 20, vs. Malati Thug #2's Intimidate +6 - 1d20+6 → [10,6] = (16); Demoralized! Malanti Thug #5 fires at the Bee-Keeper III with his Blaster Rifle vs. Defense 20: 1d20+4 → [14,4] = (18); Miss! Malanti Thug #4 fires at the Bee-Keeper III with his Blaster Rifle vs. Defense 20: 1d20+4 → [1,4] = (5); Miss! Malanti Leader moves behind the Giant Robotic Wasp for Cover and readies a Standard Action. Once the Wasp finishes its task of cutting the vault door open, the Malanti Leader will set the charges as his Standard Action. Giant Robotic Wasp finishes cutting the Bank Vault door circularly and readies a Move Action to Interpose for the Malanti Leader. Malanti Thug #2 fires at the Bee-Keeper III with his Blaster Rifle vs. Defense 20: 1d20+2 → [18,2] = (20); Hit! // Bee-Keeper III's DC23 Toughness Save: 1d20+10 → [17,10] = (27); Saved! Malanti Thug #3 fires at the Bee-Keeper III with his Blaster Rifle vs. Defense 20: 1d20+4 → [18,4] = (22); Hit! // Bee-Keeper III's DC23 Toughness Save: 1d20+10 → [16,10] = (26); Saved!

"Just shut up! SHUT UP! This wasn't part of the plan!" screeched the Malanti boy cowering behind a particularly paunchy man in a suit, no doubt one of the more mature tellers working at Bayview's Branch of the First National Bank. Frightened and trigger-happy, he didn't seem keen on being here at all. Nevertheless, he did what he had to to keep himself from being arrested, brandishing his weapon menacingly towards the Bee-Keeper in the process. "Be cool, man. Keep it together," his friend implored as he hid behind a young woman in her mid twenties, her mascara running as tears streamed down her face. Even as the tension was reaching its peak, the domineering leader of the Malanti heist moved behind the metal bug just as it finished cutting a large hole where the vault once was, displaying the iron bars behind it as the door came crashing down like rolling thunder. They were making progress! While the Bee-Keeper was mucking about, the Malanti had other plans. "C'mon! What're you guys waiting for?!" came the clarion battle cry of their leader as he began to tinker with the innards of the safe, placing some sort of plastic-looking substance on the corners of the bars. "Just kill him so we can get the stuff and get outta here!" At his command, another barrage of lasers found their way hurdling towards the Bee-Keeper, still poised where he stood as the goons unloaded everything they had. Screams reached throughout the bank, all but snuffed out by the hiss and whine of metal and plaster melting from the bolts of energy produced by the high-powered weapons. While most of the shots went wide, the pair of men holding the hostages managed to peg the Hero of the Hive squarely in the torso, leaving deep scorch marks all across the metallic surface of the protective carapace. Had Baxter not been wearing the Bee-Keeper Armor, there was no doubt he'd have likely been killed!

With the hostages now being used as human shields the situation took a drastic turn for the worse, with Baxter barely avoiding being rent asunder. A familiar sense of dread took its place in the inexperienced teenager's chest, nerves wracking his body even as the battlesuit's millions of tiny denizens began making automatic corrections to compensate. Outnumbered and in a quickly escalating ordeal, the Bee-Keeper had to tread lightly if he wanted to make sure all these people went home safely tonight. He had to stand firm - he just needed to bide his time. Once the civilians were safe and sound, it was all uphill from here. But until then, Baxter had to play it smart. "Zzoo what'zz the deal? I juzzt zztand here, you rob the plazze, and everyone goezz home? Seemzz like a weak plan; guezz you Malanti guyzz aren't as tough azz I thought you were," quipped the bee-themed protector, training an open hand on each of the crooks sporting the impromptu meatshields, the happy little bee on the HUD already zeroing in on culprits hiding behind the innocent folks like cowards, reticles narrowing as Baxter focused in on the shoulders of the manhandling gangbangers even as he kept an eye on the giant robot and the Malanti's leader. "And what'zz up with the robot? No way you guyzz juzzt built it yourselvezz. I'm guezzing there wazz a two-for-one zzale on EvilBay? Not like it'll matter. Onzze I'm done with you guyzz, I'l zzcrap it and figure it out where you got it later." "Just gotta keep these guys off their game a little longer. Focused on anything but the tellers..." Time wasn't a factor Baxter felt he had enough of. One wayward squeeze of a trigger, or a single misfire could spell doom for anyone in the bank. He had to be sure he knew what he was doing; he couldn't risk missing his mark. The Bee-Keeper had one shot and one shot only - it had to count! And as the tiny grids changed hues from a no-go red to a positive green, it felt as though an eternity was slipping by. Hopefully the good people held against their will could hang on just a few seconds more.

As the Bee-Keeper made his threats, the goons - almost in unison - turned their full attention to the armored man, weapons held at the ready in a vice. And while even the hostages laying flat peeked up from their delicate situation, some were stricken with glee to see the apian avenger, whilst others seemed to wallow in horror. Regardless of the prying eyes, the gigantic insect busily cutting its way through the steel vault never even turned to register the Bee-Keeper, far too preoccupied by the task at hand; nearly complete with its seemingly tedious ordeal. But even amongst the Malanti thugs, one of them stood out. Bigger, stronger, meaner; an older man in his mid twenties, with swarthy skin and the lower half of his face obfuscated by a colorful handkerchief, seemed to be in-charge. It was the look in his eyes - that bitter, grim determination of a man who'd never been given a handout or a chance to better himself in his entire life, of someone whom had survived alone on the streets solely by his wits and brawn. He commanded respect, an air of dominance exuding from his very presence. "She didn't say nothin' 'bout no heroes! Drop this stupid fool!" he barked harshly, pointing towards the Bee-Keeper before discharging his firearm towards the armored teenager. Of the four remaining Malanti gangbangers, two took to their leaders' orders immediately. Leveling their blasters, more bolts of crimson energy arced through the air as the goons fired from the hip! The energy projectiles flew just wide of the Bee-Keeper as he flinched from the concussive echo, the stray shots narrowly missing him! As if that weren't bad enough, two of the Malanti mooks roused a pair of the prone hostages, taking them by force and placing them in front as impromptu cover. Screams erupted from the remaining patrons as the situation took a dire turn, the goons still in the midst of reacquiring their yellow and black target in their sights. "Just back off, bug eyes! I'm warning you!" one of them shouted, as if challenging the Bee-Keeper.

Closing the gap with startling speed, the Bee-Keeper rushed through the air over the police barricade and straight towards the young thug with the high-tech blaster rifle. The whoosh of the wind echoed through the insectile helm as Baxter came closer and closer, a blur against the flashing red and blue lights scattered outside. Just before he reached the disenfranchised youth, the would-be hero could see his eyes bulge in terror; a man of metal justice rocketing towards his visage must have been as unsettling to him as it was for Baxter as the bandanna-clad boy raised his futuristic weapon in panicked self-defense. "No, no, no, no..." Baxter mentally repeated as the rifle came to bear on him, his own armored fist cocked back and ready to deliver the coup de grace. Just as it looked as though the goon was going to squeeze the trigger and blast the Bee-Keeper squarely in the face, Baxter let loose with his own fist at thunderous speed, the familiar crunch of metal against bone resounding through the helmet as the once-armed thug went sailing across the tiled floor of the bank, skidding to a stop after sliding a few extra feet. A small wave of relief found its way into the concerned avengers' mind; though it quickly evaporated as he came to a stop within the frenetic scene inside. Sure enough, there were the hostages, sprawled across the floor and surrounded by an entourage of Malanti thugs! But even alarming was the truth that hit him as the newest incarnation of the Hero of the Hive laid his eyes on the mechanical beast tearing the safe asunder; a giant robotic bee! Just like they'd said! But something was off about it. Baxter's interests in bees had only recently been piqued, but this one didn't look like any one he'd seen in the books he'd read. It was more sleek, more aerodynamic... the whole design just felt off. But there was no time to think about that now! He had bigger problems to deal with! "Your crimezzpree'zz about to come to an end! Zzurrender, and you won't have the fazze the zzting of juzztice from the Bee-Keeper, villainzz!" threatened the young hero, trying his best to strike a deliberately intimidating pose even as the rest of the thugs zeroed in on him within the disheveled bank. Hopefully, the lot of them would just call it quits. There was no need for any more violence - or at least Baxter hoped! He already wasn't feeling like he was at his best, and this whole fiasco could go any way. If it came down to a fracas, he had to be quick and decisive. The stakes were too high for him to choke now.

Malanti Thug #1's Initiative: 1d20+1 → [8,1] = (9) Malanti Thug #2's Initiative: 1d20+1 → [7,1] = (8) Malanti Thug #3's Initiative: 1d20+1 → [7,1] = (8) Malanti Thug #4's Initiative: 1d20+1 → [9,1] = (10) Malanti Thug #5's Initiative: 1d20+1 → [12,1] = (13) Malanti Leader's Initiative: 1d20+5 → [5,5] = (10) Giant Robotic Wasp's Initiative: 1d20+0 → [10,0] = (10) Bee-Keeper III's Initiative: 1d20+6 → [15,6] = (21) Bee-Keeper III will make a Charging Strike against the thug by the door of the First National Bank (#1), Taking 10 on the Attack Roll for a total of 22 (+2 Charge, -2 Defense), and requiring the thug to make a DC 25 Toughness Save. Malanti Thug #1 Toughness Save vs. DC 25: 1d20+5 → [5,5] = (10); Failed and Unconscious! Round #1 - Initiative Order Bee-Keeper III - 21 Malanti Thug #5 - 13 Malanti Thug #4 - 10 Malanti Leader - 10 Giant Robotic Wasp - 10 Malanti Thug #1 - 9 Malanti Thug #2 - 8 Malanti Thug #3 - 8 ------------------- Malanti Thug #5 fires at the Bee-Keeper III with his Blaster Rifle vs. Defense 18: 1d20+4 → [10,4] = (14); Miss! Malanti Thug #4 fires at the Bee-Keeper III with his Blaster Rifle vs. Defense 18: 1d20+4 → [5,4] = (9) Malanti Leader fires at the Bee-Keeper III with his Blaster Rifle vs. Defense 18: 1d20+6 → [8,6] = (14); Miss! Giant Robotic Wasp just continues to Blast the Bank Vault. Malanti Thug #2 takes a Full-Round Action to grab a Hostage as Cover. Malanti Thug #3 takes a Full-Round Action to grab a Hostage as Cover. Round #2 - Initiative Order Bee-Keeper III - 21 Malanti Thug #5 - 13 Malanti Thug #4 - 10 Malanti Leader - 10 Giant Robotic Wasp - 10 Malanti Thug #2 - 8 (Cover) Malanti Thug #3 - 8 (Cover)

Shuffling as his instructor gave him a slight nudge, Baxter still felt somewhat awkward in this position. It wasn't that it was uncomfortable, but rather, that it just didn't feel natural; like skipping a stair as if in a hurry. But nevertheless, the young man tried his best to find his proverbial center, only marginally shifting his footing as he brought his feet ever-so-closer together. As Erik gave his demonstration, the other sole male teenager watched as the peculiar french girl with the piercings took the initiative and did her thing, stepping and deflecting the mimicked assault. Glancing back to Mister Espadas, Baxter tried his best to follow suit, albeit solely using his left arm to sweep the imaginary attack away to one side as he stepped to the best of his meager ability as the agile brunette had, his other hand lightly clenched into a fist. Unfortunately, he wasn't exactly accustomed to bouncing back and forth on his feet; springing back wasn't so much the problem as it was when he came back, once more finding himself in that off-kilter stance he'd first settled on. In hopes that Erik hadn't quite noticed yet, Baxter quickly shuffled his feet back to where they'd been after his little nudge - or, at the least, as close as he could manage, scooting forward slightly so as to return to his position side-by-side with Jasmine. Mister Erik was the boss; surely if his swarthy instructor said this whole stance thing was important, he probably knew what he was talking about.

As adequately as he could manage, Jubatus somehow finagled his way through entangling the dastardly (stylish) chimp brandishing the bizarre firearm. No doubt its removal would be uncomfortable with all that hair, to say the least, but the deed was done and the zoot-suit sporting criminal mastermind was soundly wrapped up for the time being. The heroes and remainder of the Monkey Bunch weren't the only ones to notice as Slick Sammy's captive saw this opportunity and aptly seized it, bolting away from her fuzzy captor with a screech of shock as she ran into the back office and out the door, tripping the emergency exit alarm as she went! Equally as surprised, the well-dressed agent of chaos looked on, a bug-eyed expression etched across his face as he tried to struggle free to no avail. "Don't just stand there, you nimrods! Do something!" Sammy shouted as he wriggled and writhed against the sticky bonds holding him in-place. Seeing his boss all tied up and having lost possession of their lone hostage, one of the large gorillas - this one sporting a particularly disfigured nose - did as he was bade, taking hold of the clingy bindings and giving them a firm tug. With a decidedly wince-worthy sound of hair being forcibly and painfully removed, the gorilla gangster seems to turn his head away at the last second; as if expecting some sort of retaliatory blow. "YEEOUCH!" cried Sammy, tears welling up in his eyes. "Binti! You big palooka!" "Sorry, boss! But you said--" "I know what I said! Just get them!" With her man free and now sporting a few bald spots, the moll that was Miss Mitzi spun around on her heels away from the chilly fog she'd watched her compatriot become engulfed in. Forced to choose between helping her scientific colleague and her erstwhile leader, the monkey in the slinky dress knew who to pick. The cat was to blame, of course, and with things having taken a turn for the worst, put a bead on the spotted adversary whom had caused all the commotion. "Mangez l'avance, you uncouth swine," decried the femme fatale as she unloaded on the speedster with her hold out pistol, the red beam of energy nearly singing the fur off of her target as it narrowly whizzed past him. Doctor Chimpsky was in a much worse position. Encapsulated in a bitter cold he couldn't quite shake, he could feel his body seizing up; stiff, unresponsive, and painfully chilled. This supernatural force of cryonic pain was all around him, making escape a lackluster idea. There was only one choice left... The Proboscis with the PDA leveled his scattergun squarely on the malign fog taking its toll against him, gripping the weapon with both hands in hopes to steady his shivering aim. Hitting the silhouette was his only hope it seemed, and even as he tried to quip out a classy one-liner, all the poor monkey could do was chatter his teeth. With a resounding thump, bolts of crimson energy arced through the air towards Comrade Frost. Miraculously, the shots go wide, with each and every particle of energy avoiding his only vaguely perceivable form!

Slick Sammy's Reflex Save vs. DC 15 Snare: 1d20+5 → [9,5] = (14); Entangled! Alrighty, sorry for the delay. Black Friday and today have just been murder on my fragile little brain! Anyway, I'll give Cubist/Jubatus a chance to post his action before moving on to the villains up in the queue come the morning. EDIT: The following takes place. *Slick Sammy tries to liberate himself via Escape Artist vs. DC 25: 1d20+4 → [19,4] = (23); Fails! *Slick Sammy takes a Free Action to direct Broken-Nose Binti into liberating him. Binti takes a Move Action to get into position, and a Standard Action to tear the duct tape off. Sammy is free. *Miss Mitzi, upon seeing Jubatus accosting her man, opens fire on the already transmogrified chimp with her hold-out blaster: 1d20+6 → [12,6] = (18); Miss! *Doctor Chimpsky, forced into close-quarters and enshrouded by Comrade Frost, just opens fire with his scattergun in an All-Out Power Attack: 1d20+5 → [12,5] = (17); Miss! Round #1 Initiative Jubatus - 49 Slick Sammy - 21 Broken-Nose Binti - 15 Miss Mitzi - 13 Doctor Chimpsky - 10 (Slowed) Comrade Frost - 9 Big Coco - 5 Comrade Frost is up.

Bee-Keeper III Bee Good And You Will Bee Lonesome - 5 Posts The Espadas School: Helping Hand-to-Hand - 2 Post Dynamite & Laser Beams - 12 Posts GM Chimply Awful - 7 Posts Total Posts: 26 Extra Curriculars: Bee-Keeper III Wiki Entry

"It'zz not mine," protested the bee-themed hero. But the truth was that he wasn't quite sure. Much to his displeasure, it would seem that the rumors were true - there was a giant bee wrecking stuff inside the bank according to the pair of eyewitnesses; though whether it was one of his uncles' wayward inventions or an imposter was yet unknown. But that was the least of Baxter's concerns as talk of all this weaponry came to the forefront, landing squarely in the hands of once smalltime vandals. Weapons they were using to both outclass Freedom City's finest and keep their hostages in-check. The Bee-Keeper III's first priority was getting in there and getting the civilians out in one piece; after that, it was on him to find out where all these shiny new guns were coming from. But it was a more delicate situation than just running in and thwacking mooks upside the head. Baxter had never dealt with hostages before! That familiar pit in his gut once more found a means to shift and contort itself into a painful knot of uncertainty; the criminals inside were probably twitchy, and so the young teen had to be exceptionally careful. With just himself and the policemen on the scene, it didn't seem likely they would be much help against the futuristic hardware the gangbangers were brandishing. Uncertainty gripped him; but then he remembered that little lavender card Fleur de Joie had given him. Still tucked away within its tiny compartment along the suit's forearm, Baxter stared at it for a moment in contemplation. If he called her, she could definitely help - and if not her, then someone she could get in touch with, most likely! With someone else who had more experience doing this whole heroic business stuff, the situation could quickly go from daunting to a cakewalk. The extra help could be the edge Baxter needed to do his part! Just as he reached for the compartment, however, the Bee-Keeper stopped. It would have been easy to call for help; to get someone - anyone! - here. But the thought of waiting struck a nerve with him. There was no telling how soon another of Freedom City's heroes would arrive, if in time at all; for right now time was a precious thing, and lives were hanging on every second. It was time to step up or step back - a choice every real hero had to make in the comics Baxter grew up reading. But what if it was a bad one? The Bee-Keeper looked back up, watching the mook with the laser rifle at the doorway. Where there was one, there had to be more... but how many more? And how far were they willing to go to make sure they got away? Shaking his head and running a gauntlet-clad hand across the antennae adorning it, the Bee-Keeper tried his best to disperse the thoughts of failure lingering over him. He could do this - he had to! This wasn't the time for self-doubt, but for action! Taking a deep breath, the Bee-Keeper steeled himself for his task ahead. He just hoped he knew what he was doing. "You guyzz zztay here and keep a lookout. I'll gonna take care of thizz," came the authorative words of the Bee-Keeper; or, at least, they sounded as such through the modulated voice. Behind the helmet, however, Baxter was sweating bullets. But such was the nature of being a superhero: knowing that every day could end poorly - or entirely - in the wake of trying to protect the people you care about. And Baxter? Baxter cared for Freedom City and what it stood for; that's why he was willing to risk it all to be like the people who laid down their lives for others. It was his responsibility, and while sometimes he wished he could just call in sick or let someone else handle it, sometimes it was just up to him - the wrong place at the right time. It was a tough job, but Baxter was confident he had the potential to be more than he was now. That's why without so much as waiting for a response from the trained professionals landlocked by the superior firepower of their adversaries the Bee-Keeper III rose up from behind the impromptu barricade outside of Bayview's branch of the First National Bank. No doubt the Malanti crook serving as overwatch could see him; and that was the plan, if Baxter could even call it such a thing. With uproarious speed and a whirr of miniature robots from within the confines of the battle suit, the Hero of the Hive bolted from his cover in a head-long charge towards the lone guard of the bank at breakneck speed!

Without hesitation, the redshirt crouched against the police cruiser took the Bee-Keeper's hand and gave it a firm, frantic shake just as another thug's wayward energy blast left a searing score across the roof of the vehicle. "Hey, Rich Royer. Good timing. Stuff's getting crazy in there," he chimed, both alarmed yet strangely enthused to be in this peculiar predicament. Despite the name, the Bee-Keeper seemed perplexed as to who this man was; after all, he acted like the Hero of the Hive ought to know his name. The man seemed only mildly annoyed by this fact, but clearly didn't see fit to go into any greater detail into his identity. "Ignore him," one of the officers insisted, his head low and trusty revolver steadied against the paneling of his car as he pressed his back against it for protection. "We tried to get him out of here, but when the perps started firing, it was too risky." He was an older man compared to his partner, closer to his forties with greying hair and a receding crownline. "I'm Officer Burkawitz. This is Officer Donahue," he motioned again, indicating his erstwhile accomplice parallel to him on the other side of the police cruiser. The other man only grimaced, peeking up ocassionaly to check on the situation inside the bank. It was hard to get a real angle on the situation for anyone at their current position; the foyer the only thing truly visible whilst the rest of the bank sat soundly in the hands of the culprits around the corner of the front doors. "Ever hear of the Malanti?" Burkawitz asked, though he didn't wait for an answer from the gold-and-black costumed teen for an answer. "Small time out of the West End. Usual M.O. is petty theft, vandalism, and graffiti. Never been real violent, except for a few incidents. When we heard they were running this show, I couldn't believe it. I've worked that beat for a couple years, and the most I'd ever seen them do was get into a brawl. Looks like they got their hands on some high-grade stuff - nothing our boys can handle. No one knows where they got the new toys, but Rich here says he saw some kind of robot inside..." "Yeah. Big and made of metal, shoots lasers, nasty claws. The whole works! Looked kind of like you," Voyeur exclaimed, throwing his hands up slightly and quickly retracting them as another stray bolt from the thug watching the entryway whizzed by, searing a nearby lampost with a hiss as a chunk of its integrity was melted away. "Like I bee, I mean." "Thought it might be one of yours," Donahue finally spoke up, a sour disposition etched across his face. "That's what the Bee-Keeper does, right? Giant bees? So what is it: you trying to play both sides now, make yourself look good or something?"

Arcing through the brisk afternoon air, the Bee-Keeper III raced across the open blue landscape as though a pack of ravenous dogs were nipping at his heels. Time was always something Baxter felt he never had enough of; and if this wasn't evidence of that, then nothing was. Even now as the yellow-and-gold bedecked teen buzzed southbound through the air, his mind was afire with what to expect upon his arrival at the besieged repository. Hopefully the FCPD wouldn't jump the gun; if he could just get inside without an incident, then perhaps he had a shot at distilling the situation from the hostage variety into that of a mono-a-mono showdown with the criminal element within. From his lofty position, the Bee-Keeper could see the emergence of the scene below as he closed the gap towards the bank. Police cars and medical personnel were already on-site, their vehicles cleverly placed outside of the First National Bank like an impromptu barricade - both against whatever attempts at fleeing the long arm of the law were to take place, as well as the mild gunfire erupting from within. It looked different, though. Baxter had seen his share of iron since he first stepped into the hero role from gangbangers and thugs, but this? These were flashy and blindingly bright - whatever hardware the crooks inside were bandying about weren't every-day firearms! The situation looked bad... real bad, even to the inexperienced Baxter Bowles. Descending from on-high towards the gaggle of officers and paramedics already standing-by, the heavily armored apian avenger was greeted with mixed feelings. Many of the officers were already hailing their radios for assistance, whilst others amongst them were glad to see someone who looked like they could help. But amidst all the turmoil and confusion from the bank heist gone awry, the slew of local law enforcement and other civil servants, another man stood out like a bright cherry amidst a bushel of blueberries, his long-sleeve red shirt painting him like a nice little target against the dark blue of the two officers he was nestled between closest to the heist in-progress. He seemed strangely familiar, but Baxter just couldn't quite place it... "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Relax! I'm here to help," pleaded the formerly villainous flyboy as he landed with a light thump beside the pair of middle-aged policemen and their civilian attendee, hands uplifted as if to illustrate he was unarmed; a fact that besides being vastly untrue looked rather ridiculous when you're wearing a tincan over your body. He could see the worry in their eyes, and as the two officers exchanged a glance with one another, lowered their pieces. Equally relieved, at least now Baxter wasn't going to walk into this new fracas with a few extra holes in his suit beforehand. "Zzo what'zz the deal? Who are thezze guyzz trying to rob the bank?"

Seizing the opportunity to get the literal drop on the hairy criminals' supposed scientific smartypants, Comrade Frost wasted no time in sending a chill down the mammal's well-dressed spine. Eliciting both a look of horror and a sudden rattling of teeth, the hard-eyed, big-nosed goon whirled about in the unnaturally frigid fog. He tried to speak even as his dapper colleagues turned to face the outburst of icy air, equally shocked by the vague and terrifying form silhouetted against the foreboding mist. "C-c-c-cape!" shivered the Proboscis scientist, sniffling his big nose as he tried to recompose his hard boiled demeanor in the face of his awe-inspiring parka-wearing Russian adversary. Like clockwork, Jubatus was all over getting the aching apes their medical dues through a quick call for professional assistance. They looked truly agonized; like someone was just punching their spleen from the inside vigorously, with neither intent to stop nor a want to do so. But the truth was obvious: there was nothing the man-cat could do for them, save wait for the arrival of the ambulances and hope for the best. And so, shifting gears, it wasn't long before Jubatus found Comrade Frost mid-brawl with the gaggle of petulant primates, whose supposed leader was in the middle of strong-arming some nice young lady! Without a moment to spare, the agile feline zoomed into the bedazzling gem-filled building, a blur amidst a foggy backdrop as he rushed towards the chimpanzee in the zoot-suit, claws brandished! Unfortunately, all the speedster managed to do was scratch a hefty streak across the surface of the barrel, causing the already jostled crook to fire wildly into the air as he let go of his jewelry store hostage. "Two of em'!" cried the well-dressed chimp, tipping his striped and feathered hat back as he steadied the aim of his newfangled weaponry. "Monkey Bunch! Razz these do-gooders and let's get outta here!"

Save vs. DC 23 Mighty Strike: 1d20+20 → [10,20] = (30) EDIT: End of the Surprise Round. New Round starts. Initiative Order is as follows: Jubatus - 49 Slick Sammy - 21 Broken-Nose Binti - 15 Miss Mitzi - 13 Doctor Chimpsky - 10 (Slowed) Comrade Frost - 9 Big Coco - 5 Jubatus is up.

This can go either way. If Jubatus wants to attack it physically and hope it's enough to disable it, he could approach it that way. If he feels he's mechanically savvy enough to actually open it up whilst running around super-fast and take it out of commission, that's also viable. I'll wholly leave that to your discretion, sir!

Lunch was one of the few reprieves Baxter got at FDR High, short though it often was. The boisterous, uproarious nature of the cafeteria did little to help the young hero catch some beauty rest, the food on his plate only partially touched even as Chris and Amanda tore their sandwiches asunder with their own insatiable hunger. It was like this every day for Baxter; drifting in and out of being fully awake and lucidly aware of his surroundings. As much as he'd like to take a day off, he knew that wasn't what superheroes did. The Centurion never took a week off in the Bahamas. The Raven never called in sick to catch up on that book he'd been reading. Heck, even Captain Thunder couldn't catch a break. It was just the nature of the business - if you chose to bear the responsibility entitled with the powers (or, in Baxter's case, a nifty battle suit), then it was an all-or-nothing deal. "You gonna eat that?" Chris asked, voice raised over the obnoxious teenage cacophony that made up the mess hall's current noise as he pointed towards the slightly overcooked butter roll on Baxter's try. Without a word, the dark-skinned teenager in the red-and-black tee-shirt just pushed the entire dish towards his long-time friend. A look of concern briefly crossed Chris' face, and even Amanda looked up with a grimace from her incessant texting, which in turn was met by a caustic shrug on Baxter's part. Truth be told, he wasn't hungry; maybe it was all that work at the Espadas School, or earnest weariness. Whatever it was, the growing boy just had no appetite. "You really need to eat something. It's not good for you," Amanda chided, smacking Chris' hand lightly even as he reached for the delicious roll. But Baxter was convinced he was good, motioning again for his friend to take his portions. "Nah. I'm good," the secret Bee-Keeper smiled, patting his stomach lightly. "I'm on a diet." It was a terrible joke, and while his friends exchanged skeptical glances about their already trim friend's sudden urge to cut back, they nevertheless relinquished themselves from the argument. A nice calm followed for Baxter as he closed his eyes and leaned back against the hard plastic chair, its support surprisingly comfortable in the wake of his own tired nature. For a moment, all the stress - the classes, the drama, the hero gig - just seemed to melt away. It was a relaxing reprieve, this gentle repose something the double-life bearing teenager felt was a necessity rather than a luxury. It was peaceful, almost. Serene... "Hey! Check this!" Amanda chimed abruptly, leaning forward as she mashed the keypad on her cell phone. "There's someone robbing the bank here in Bayview!" In a jolt, whatever tranquil state of mind Baxter had hoped to bask it was quickly obliterated by Amanda's sharp intrusion into the realm of the now. His face, now contorted into an odd amalgam of concern, curiosity, and consternation, pivoted up from its otherwise reclined state of being. "Lemme see," Baxter said curtly, practically snatching the phone from Amanda's hands as Chris caught himself mid-swallow, taking a large gulp from the glass of milk he'd procured from the line to help the food pass. This was the second time a bank had been hit, and at first all Baxter could think back to was the brawl with Fleur de Joie against the golems. Was it the same guy? Had the Malador impersonator escaped from Eldrich and returned to his villainous ways? No. What Baxter saw on that livid little screen sent a different chill down his spine as he looked on, and as the message trawled its way through his brain, it felt as though the young armored avenger was staring into the digital abyss... and it was staring right back. "@VoyRoy: Bayview Bank being robbed by masked men. Cops on site. No sign of heroes. Giant bee inside with hostages." He saw it. He knew the words and what they meant, and yet he read it again. And then again. He couldn't believe it! Not only was the bank being robbed, but it was being robbed by a robotic bee. Someone was besmirching his already tarnished name! And here he was, just lounging whilst innocents were in danger. A bad taste wound its way into the dark-skinned boy's mouth, and a vile pit took up residence in his almost empty stomach. Every fiber of his being tensed in excitement. It was time for the Bee-Keeper to step in and defend his (mostly) good name, lest it devolve further into the mockery it already was. And so, rising from his seat with a slight scoot, Baxter set the cellular back down towards Amanda, a grimace etched on his face. "Think I'm gonna be sick," the incognito teen moaned as he turned away, visions of the faces his friends were making even as the lie slipped beyond his lips. "Be right back." He had to hurry. Yeah, there was trouble afoot, but he still had to make things look convincing - a trick, unfortunately, Baxter still struggled with. He'd failed his last semester, even if it was just barely. His friends were an entire grade ahead of him because he was too fixated on this hero nonsense... and yet, he felt obliged. Compelled, even, to see to this duty of protecting those whom couldn't protect themselves. Finding the balance between his personal life and newly acquired professional career (if it could even be called that) was a staggering challenge in and of itself; coupled with his inexperience and stress-filled lifestyle, it was a wonder that he was able to pull any of it off at all without giving away his identity. Regardless, here he was, once again racing through the halls towards the bathroom on the west wing of Roosevelt High; stopping only for a moment at his locker to grab an all too familiar bag from its confines. But it wasn't the bathroom he was headed for. Oh, no. Baxter had other plans. Moving briskly beyond the familiar door to the boy's room, young Mr. Bowles hustled his way down to the pair of steel double-doors that lead outside to the rear of the school, where most of the mobile classrooms were idly parked alongside the football field. It had become sort of old hat for the sneaky hero as he darted out onto the grassy knoll of the school; once again ducking out during the day in lieu of studying and actually completing his homework assignments. It didn't take him long to find his usual spot beside the old outdoor music trailer, the scent of smoke and other narcotics still rife in the air. Slipping to the ground and looking beneath the uplifted trailer, the agile young man saw the coast was clear, taking it as a sign to move into cover behind the immobile domicile and away from prying eyes. Slinging the satchel from his shoulders, Baxter quickly unzipped the backpack, pulling out another one with practiced aplomb. This one - unlike his somewhat mangy green book bag - was lovingly painted in black and yellow stripes, its metal frame heavy but not unbearably so. Slipping it over one arm and then the other until it straddled his shoulders, Baxter pressed to tiny black button nestled along each side of the titanium handles. Like clockwork, the important pack shifted and whirred to life as a million buzzing bee-bots felt a surge of life strike them, unfurling the Bee-Keeper v1.6e battle suit from its dormant state, encapsulating the teen hero into its protective shell. As always, Baxter was greeted by the perpetually happy little digital bee that made up a portion of the GUI of the HUD inside the insectile helmet, giving a pleasant thumbs up and ensuring that all systems were nominal. No long was Baxter that slacker weirdo with a crazy uncle. No, now he was more than that - someone who could do something for Freedom City. Someone who could stand up for the little people, even if they didn't always like him meddling around. The Bee-Keeper III was on the scene, confidence and adrenaline coursing through Baxter's very being as he felt the comfortable presence of his second skin complete its metamorphosis. It was time for him to do something about this rogue bee-bot business and the vagabonds pillaging the bank. He wouldn't stand for some mooks wrecking up his part of the city and putting innocent lives in danger; especially not while they trashed his name with some 'bot of his uncles they'd stumbled across! With a sharp twang, a pair of shimmering wings erupted from the back of the armored suit, humming to life as they built up speed. Before anyone was the wiser, the Bee-Keeper III took to the skies, soaring through the air like a madman possessed - the sooner he got to the scene, the sooner he could do something about saving all those hostages!

Hey, it's one of those things where you say things that isn't from the vacuous yap of your character! As per my norm, while initially intended as a solo thread, I'm always happy to accommodate folks if they want to hop in; it's just a matter of bumping PLs a little bit. Just not, y'know, too many folks. Feel free drop a line or poke me in chat if you wanna weasel a character in :)

First National Bank - Bayview Branch, 12:24 PM September 29th, 2012 Bayview, Freedom City ------------------------------------------------- There was something about the classic capers that always served as the staple for which comic books were tested. The mad scientist and his Machiavellian plans for world domination, the rogue vigilante torn from the ideals of truth and justice as he fell into the shadowy underbelly of crime, and the tried but always climactic alien invasion were all fine tributes to the dangerous lifestyle superheroes lived through daily. But no story is more iconic than that of the bank heist; after all, it was these money-hungry smash-and-grabs that made legacies such as the Centurion a household name. The act of robbing a fortified safe house for lucre had, perhaps, fallen out of style somewhat since the emergence of better security systems over the decades, but every now and then some bold young upstart or nefarious mastermind felt like they were up to the test. Then again, such a high-profile act in Freedom City often ended poorly for the villainous cads who endeavored to get rich quick; but that fact never seemed to deter them. This time was no exception. Inside the well-to-do First National Bank of Freedom's Bayview Branch, things had taken a surprise turn for the worst as clerks and patrons alike were forced to the ground, hands over their heads as they laid flat on their stomach. Six men, all armed with futuristic weapons yet sporting motley second-hand attire, brandished their tools around menacingly. They were clearly hoods; violent youths who no doubt felt like they had much to prove, their faces obscured by the vibrant bandannas of reddish-orange typically draped over their heads. And what better way to make a statement than to see the establishment that held everything they'd been deprived of get its comeuppance? "Everybody stay down! No one needs to be a hero!" shouted one of the young men, his rifle slung over one shoulder as he pointed to each of the prone hostages with his free hand. Meanwhile, his comrades were busy at work behind the clerk's counters, rifling through the various drawers for whatever loose cash they could find, whilst two others were busy collecting wallets and purses, tossing them into a large nondescript backpack. It was a tense situation, but the gangsters with the high-tech array of weapons were the least of the civilians' concerns. While the goons might have been strong-arming them for their meager funds, there stood a larger menace made of metal with eyes that smoldered like fire as it burned its way through the large safe door. It was large and gun-metal in color, its dormant wings of steel and fiberglass still as it hunched down on all six of its spindly, sharp appendages, focusing on cutting its way through the meager defenses the bank had by comparison for protecting its money in a surgically precise circular fashion. For some, it was a fresh new taste of horror as the cybernetic monstrosity ripped through the solid steel door with its lasers like a hot knife through warm butter. But for one clerk in particular, the horror was all too familiar; forced to bear witness to what felt like an all too familiar calling card of another villain as he cowered behind the once safe bulletproof glass of his desk, his new tie all but ruined as he soaked up the room temperature coffee he'd spilled when the goons arrived. He knew without getting the word out, there wouldn't be any help before these criminal vagrants got away - and they needed it now! After peeking over his shoulder from his prone position and seeing his opportunity, the suit-clad middle-aged man crawled across his belly just enough to reach beneath his stall and press the minuscule button that would trigger the silent alarm. As it began to steady flash, a small sigh of relief escaped his voice. Help was on its way... He just hoped it got here in time before the crooks did something drastic.

Fort +5 vs. DC 22 = 19 - The Proboscis Monkey is Slowed (-1 Attack, Defense, Reflex, & Half-Speed) Will give Jubatus and Butterfly a moment to post before moving on. Gonna go ahead and roll the monkeys' initiative for when the Surprise Round ends. Big Coco's Initiative = 5 Broken-Nose Binti's Initiative = 15 Slick Sammy's Initiative = 21 Miss Mitzi's Initiative = 13 Doctor Chimpsky's Initiative = 10

Only if you plan to start a fracas, my good man! But, yes, I suppose if you wanted to you could roll ahead of time so you're all set.

Gently plucking the lavender calling card from the woman's hands as politely as he was able, the young Bee-Keeper gave the peculiar note a once-over. To say he was enthused about having someone he could call upon for assistance was quite the understatement. Behind the bee motif helmet, Baxter was positively brimming as he scoured the little piece of parchment. It was his first step into a larger world as a hero thanks to Fleur de Joie, and his list of heroic contacts - now a whopping total of one! - was on the rise. With all the care and surgical precision of a child coming off of a sugar rush, Baxter opened a small wrist-mounted compartment and stuck the little purple card inside, sealing it with a simple flick to keep the important information safe. "Thankzz! I'll bee zzure to do that," the Bee-Keeper buzzed back happily at the aspect of getting in touch again should the need arise. It was comforting to hear the flowery woman's assurance, as if Baxter could just put his mind at ease somewhat. But, hopefully, it wouldn't come to any sort of serious summons - Baxter on the brink of defeat (or worse), or in some sort of dire straits. Drifting from his thoughts, the Brigadier of Bees watched as the mystical matron of the earth called forth a dazzling yellow flower from the nearby bush, its petals unfurling with grace and poise; its inviting floral form no doubt his ticket from this dimension and back to his own. Giving it a moment of thought as to where exactly he wanted to find himself returned, Baxter wanted to be careful not to get too close - nor too far! - from home. He wanted to crash, and as soon as he got home that was chief on his agenda right after a hot shower. "Hmm. Could you maybee drop me back off in the Fenzz? Outzzide the bank?" Baxter asked, pushing the helmet's antennae down as he ran a gauntlet-clad hand over his head. "The crowd'zz probably died down. That'zz probably clozze enough to get where I'm going."

With a shiny new communicator in-hand for Butterfly, the duo took off in their pursuit of their chilly brother-in-arms and the ne'er-do-wells responsible for all this terrible, terrible monkey business. With Comrade Frost and the newly joined young lady scouring their way across Westbrook Street from the air, the speedy cheetah that was Jubatus zoomed his way along the asphalt, both he and Butterfly quickly rejoining the Russian emissary mistily floating through the cool afternoon air. The scene isn't much better away from the cluster of monkeyfied citizens they'd just left. Once again, a gaggle of humans stand in a panic, screeching and wailing like children amidst crashed cars and dropped groceries. What makes this particular sight more worrisome, however, is the half dozen sickly looking transmogrified apes. While many of the transformed patrons seem perfectly fine, a few of the number present seem positively green in the gills, so to speak; hunched over or curled into the fetal position as the groan and moan in obvious agony. This wasn't just a simple shifting of molecular structure for some of these folks - it was an exercise in enduring pain. As they whimper in their inflicted state, it's plain as day that whatever the problem, it isn't getting any better. Meanwhile, the familiar sounds of trouble rings out from the confines of an upscale-looking jewelry store a mere fifty feet from our intrepid heroes as raised voices breech the bemoaning streets of Midtown. This had to be Pizazz - the heroes had caught whomever was inside red handed! Those so inclined to investigate the innards of the danger-ridden ice shop were soon met with the truth the officer had given to them: five well-dressed primates were holding a young woman hostage! "Give us the key to the safe, you hairless mook!" came the cry of a zoot suit clad chimpanzee holding the only visible employee at gunpoint with what looked like an odd and out of place raygun that belonged more appropriately within the confines of a science fiction B-Movie, his voice as sharp and shrill as it was demanding and impatient. He seemed quite cross - downright agitated, even, yet still in control. His colleagues were much the same in their style of dress, as if some spirit of the Roaring Twenties had forcibly possessed their very natures. Amongst them stood two gorillas - large even by typical gorilla standards - and dressed in matching tieless purple suits, their hats tipped back ever so slightly as to add an air of danger to their already intimidating frames. By contrast, there stood another primate, this one coiffed with black fur and wearing a slinky dress that might have worked in proper monkey society, but within the Land of the Hairless Apes simply came off as démodé - though one might be loathe to point it out, given the creature brandished what looked like a high-tech laser pistol. Last, but certainly not least, stood a character so boldly distinguishable it was hard to believe; standing at almost the same height as the chimpanzee in the zoot suit, this Proboscis monkey sported a massive nose and spectacles, favoring his attire without the overly burdensome blazer for a simple suspender-lifted set of slacks, nice shoes, and a white dress shirt rolled up to the sleeves; a small PDA dangling around his neck by a harness as he cradled what looked like a highly sophisticated fowling piece! "Please! I told you I don't have it; I'm just the night clerk! Let me go, I'm begging you!"