SpicyWaffle

Edit'd by Fox. I took the liberty of dropping the equipment block, as 0ep items are things you can just assume a character has. If you really want it there, though, let me know and I'll toss it back in. Bee-Keeper III 8pp to spend, and they're burning a hole in my metaphorical pocket! Ability Scores: +3 Strength. A combination of constantly toting that heavy metal battlesuit around, strenuous endeavors through combat and physical training by Erik Espadas has probably done something for Baxter's lowest score. Skills: -4 to Diplomacy to gain +1pp. Still diplomatic, but +16 seemed excessive in hindsight. +12 seems a closer fit mechanically and character-wise. Feats: Adding Attack Specialization (Unarmed) 1, Grappling Finesse, Improved Grab, Improved Throw, Improved Trip, and Stunning Attack to Baxter's repertoire; benefits from the Espadas School of Self-Defense and his own practice chucking thugs around. Also switching "Fascinate (Diplomacy) 1" out for "Taunt" instead, since he seems to be leaning closer to that than constant spiels. In addition to all that, he'll also be picking up Interpose so he can put that Toughness Save to work as a giant metal meatshield! Powers: Not adding or removing anything, but re-arranging points in light of changes to Baxter's Strength Score and Unarmed Specialization. Shuffling three points out from Enhanced Strength and adding a rank of Super-Strength plus the Groundstrike power feat to keep it at the same power point total. Also dropping the "Accurate 3" power feat on his Strike to "Accurate 2," and grabbing another rank in Improved Critical, bringing it to "Improved Critical 2." Other Changes: Cleared up Bee-Keeper III's 'In Brief' summary. Added in another complication for being a minor, since it felt strange he didn't have one for it in retrospect. Edit'd by Fox. I took the liberty of dropping the equipment block, as 0ep items are things you can just assume a character has. If you really want it there, though, let me know and I'll toss it back in.

The sudden line of inquiry caught Baxter by surprise, his face contorting into an awkward display of unease behind his mask as his disappointment at an autograph soon turned into clandestine secrecy. Perhaps it shouldn't have come as a shock at all, given the history Fleur de Joie and his illustrious uncle had culminated in their time; but still, it felt unexpected. After a moment of pause to contemplate the question, the Bee-Keeper finally gave a small shrug, palms upraised to animate his mostly feigned knowledge regarding the lineage he'd taken the reins of. "I know zzome zztuff," he began, the computerized voice distorting his identity the way only the buzzing of a billion bee-bots could. "You guyzz were all over the newzz for a while after he took Beedom Hall. That and, y'know, the giant beezz and zztuff," alluded the plucky teen hero as he danced around his own relationship with his infamous forebear. Another forced shrug elucidated that this Bee-Keeper had no real connection to the previous incarnation. "Bezzidezz that? The guy makezz zzome pretty zzweet battlezzuits, and izz totally nutzz."

"Thank goodnezz! Juzzt glad thizz izz all water under the bridge, or whatever," exclaimed the apian avenger after Eldritch took his leave, toting his arcane accomplice along with him beyond the mystical portal. An almost tangible wave of relief swept over the young dark skinned teenager as the encouraging words of Earth's Master Mage and Fleur de Joie put him at ease, and then doubly so once the armed escort of guards and policemen hit the scene. "Good thing they're zzhowing up, too. Hope they can zztill get back mozzt of the money from the other one, though." But his relaxed demeanor suddenly shifted, his tone moving from one of mild countenance to panic in a flash. "Oh, no!" cried the Bee-Keeper, his gauntlet-clad hands finding their way towards the metallic cheeks that made up the bee-like helmet covering his face. What could only be taken as a look of horror - or, at least, as close to a look as the unflinchingly unanimated helm would allow - had crossed the Hero of the Hive's face, arms dropping downwards and shoulders slumping as an exasperated sigh escaped the otherwise enthusiastic hero. "... I forgot to get Eldritch'zz autograph. Nutzz!"

I'll go with the latter, since that seems more plausible than just leaving that one unarmed teenager alone in the building with the giant dinosaurs. Soon as it's his turn again, Baxter'll slink off and be all heroic :)

Watching with quiet enthusiasm, Baxter bore witness to Starlight's curative powers. With but a simple touch, whatever injuries had afflicted the security guards of the Hunter Museum of Natural History vanished gradually, the guards themselves rousing from their pain-stricken stupor in the wake of the turned tide. The armored teenager couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy at the nigh faceless entities' powerful boon, limited himself to what the Bee-Keeper Armor could and could not achieve through force of arms and technological advancement. But a boon is a boon; and while it might not be capable of the medical marvels this golden-clad individual was, it was at least adequate enough for Baxter's purposes. "Who, me?" the Bee-Keeper inquired with feigned surprise as he returned to the realm of the real, his endeavors at modesty both inept and yet strangely adroit despite his mild whining, "I'll bee okay; juzzt a little zzore." From his impromptu reclining spot, the Hero of the Hive watched the unconscious vagrant wrapped in the sticky goo lie motionless, thankfully contained by the unknown heroine's quick thinking as he sat in wait for the response team to show up. It was baffling how every time he seemed to be on the cusp of something important, something even more important reared its ugly head - like some sort of extrasensory tattletale was constantly ratting him out for performing some faux act of normalcy and forcibly amending that little trait. Just as quickly as the thought had crossed him, however, the teen pushed it away. He was feeling good about this, despite the inevitable outcome that would follow tomorrow. "Don't worry about it. Zztuff happenzz," the young man dismissed after a moment of contemplation, waving a hand towards Starlight as if to similarly banish that train of thought. "Like, you couldn't have known thezze guy'zz were completely nutzz, and everything worked out for the bezzt in the end. Well, I mean, zzorta."

Bee-Keeper III - 35 IC Posts Bee Good And You Will Bee Lonesome - 10 IC Posts Leave Only Wreckage, Take Only... - 11 IC Posts Robot Dinosaur Rampage - 2 IC Posts Smells Like Teen Drama - 6 IC Posts The Espadas School: Helping Hand-to-Hand - 6 IC Posts GM Posts - 5 GM Posts Smells Like Teen Drama - 5 GM Posts

Winded and wheezing, Baxter could only look on as the shadows engulfed the fleeing culprits; the mysterious jar that the tendril-brandishing fellow had been so precariously balancing between his conflicts with the other two heroines vanishing along with them into the inky darkness. Regardless, the situation had been defused, and the Bee-Keeper - while uninjured - was feeling the exhaustive effects of pushing the suit beyond its intended limits. From finger tips to his shoulder, his entire left arm throbbed with malicious reverberations; each pounding of pain a reminder of his brash endeavors. But those endeavors, despite some soreness, had proved fruitful: the bouncing bandit assisting the woman and her shadowy accomplice had been dealt a swift blow of justice, and the remaining guards were now safe from his wanton acts of malicious violence. The brunt of the ordeal was over now, and the danger had passed. Grateful to see the spidery girl wrapping things up with the man who'd started this little fiasco, it was clear that they were of a heroic jib (even if one of them didn't have much of a face). Then again, who was he to judge, given his creepy bug-like appearance? "Izz everybuzzy okay?" inquired the Hero of the Hive, content with the way things had worked themselves out. Sure, it meant studying wasn't going to happen today, and that he might be bombing that history test, but at least everyone was in one piece; albeit worse for wear. Only after seeing to the injured museum security guards does Bee-Keeper breath a sigh of relief, resting his good arm atop his insectile helm as he let his body relax. After picking out as comfy a spot as he could next to one of the remaining dioramas, Baxter slumped down against the display's base, knees bent and held high as he rested his back against it. "Haha. Thought they had uzz there for a zzecond. Phew," chimed the formerly villainous Bee-Keeper, throwing a friendly hand-wave towards the remaining heroines before moving on to his own introduction. "Bee-Keeper, by the way. Nizze to meetcha."

"Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh! It'zz Eldritch! I'm... I mean, wow! Zzorry for guzzhing! Zzuch a big fan; I've got all your rebooted comiczz!" the Bee-Keeper squeed with glee, the armored hero barely keeping enough poise and dignity to prevent himself from bouncing giddily in place. How Fleur could be so nonchalant in the presence of Earth's Master Mage was beyond his own comprehension at the moment, the young teen too awestruck to even muster a professionally heroic greeting. All he could do once his tiny tirade of repetition subsided was suck air through his teeth, desperately trying to curb his overly abundant enthusiasm and regain some measure of composure. But then a thought crept into his mind. An eerie thought; brought on by what Eldritch had murmured only a moment prior. Behind the motionless facade that was the Bee-Keeper's helmet, Baxter's face had contorted its way into an ill-begotten frown. "Wait, zzo... zzo izz that aura zztuff gonna bee all over uzz, too?" he inquired sheepishly. "Thizz Myzztic Forzze guy izzn't gonna make Malador come after uzz, too, right?"

Giving his instructor a wry grin, Baxter just shook his head lightly at the concept of being disgruntled towards boards, a slight giggle barely contained between his lips. He liked this guy; it was great that he didn't seem like such a stickler. He'd half-expected to be bombarded with all kinds of talk about discipline and cliche' analogies about rivers, but the fact that they were more or less jumping right into the practical aspects of the course just made things feel so much smoother. Unlike the more acrobatic Erik, Baxter had to uncoil himself in what by comparison must have seemed exceptionally clumsy, rising to his knees and then finally standing back on his feet. It felt drawn out and tedious after seeing the lithe dusky-skinned man teaching them simply bound so flawlessly back up, but that certainly didn't deter the young man; if nothing else, it seemed like a quaint nod towards the shape he might be in once he finished learning all there was to be taught! "Sore? Pfft. It's just stretching. How bad could it be?" Baxter quipped back towards the fiery redhead with a smile, the thought of basic stretches and the like seeming unlikely to wear anyone out. Of course, his theory was quickly disproved as he followed the ladies in their endeavors, and much to his own surprise, he couldn't quite touch the digits attached to his feet. He was close - so close! - but couldn't quite reach his sock-adorned piggies, a forced grunt of strain denoting his struggle. Despite his earnest endeavors to keep up with the much more athletically coordinated ladies, the dark-skinned boy just wasn't as limber, eating his own words as he strained his gangly physique. "Okay... uh... maybe it'll be a little bad," he mumbled back. He wasn't sure, but Baxter could only imagine that's what the other non-English sputtering girls were going on about. Perhaps they too were more interested in getting to the part involving kicking butts and not so much interested in the sprawling of ligaments. But embarrassing physical condition aside, there were some minor benefits to the class beyond the obvious training. While it might not have been considered proper or polite, Baxter couldn't help but steal glances now and then towards the trio of young women present on the mat alongside him. It was like a babe buffet; certain aspects not withstanding! Was it crass? Undoubtedly. But Baxter couldn't argue with the view. "And speak for yourself, miss! If we're gonna be doing any kind of sparring, I don't wanna go home with a black eye and bruises all over my body," interjected the unlimber teen, reaching to the sky like he was desperately trying to affix himself to the bottom of the ceiling, raising and lowering them in a repetitive motion. After a moment of contemplation and looking around at the feminine crowd, Baxter's brow crept up ever so slightly as he panned back to Erik, a faint grimace marring his visage as he began to speak again; "And... uh... maybe another person to spar with. Y'know, since we're kinda uneven and stuff."

His little spiel finished, Baxter was feeling pretty good about himself and the outcome! Granted, it was a bit unexpected to see the formerly stern woman shift gears with nothing but a smile and hearty praise, but at least he'd managed to get her to stop glaring - and that, in and of itself, was victory enough for the aspiring apian adventurer. But the hard part was over now; Fleur de Joie and the Bee-Keeper had been victorious! All that was left was the clean-up, with which Fleur again took the lead on by sectioning off the crime scene with her gargantuan greenery. "You got it," hummed the Bee-Keeper as his copacetic comrade bade him to watch over their fallen adversary, his voice almost awash with giddiness as he peered over the tightly-wrapped poseur Fleur had apprehended single-hand. It was kind of odd though, how the gagged spellcaster had thrown this whole scheme together. It must have taken him a while to plan it out; and while it was at least original, it still fell flat. "Zzo what'zz thizz guy'zz deal?" came the query of the armored teenager hidden behind the extremely Barry-esque modulated voice, turning to Fleur as he thrust a thumb towards the cocooned culprit. "You think he'zz really a wizzard or whatever? Zzeemzz like he went to a lot of trouble to get the bank to, y'know, rob itzzelf inzztead of juzzt blazzting down the vault and teleporting away or whatever it izz that magical people do."

After the defusing of the situation via Fleur de Joie's handy-dandy wrap-em'-and-pack-em' plant action on the not-so-mystic Malador, the Bee-Keeper turned back to face his pretty accuser; her demeanor unfortunately unchanged despite his own endeavors at being the epitome of heroic. Resting his gauntlet clad hands upon his hips, the young superhero cocked his own head slightly in response, as if surprised by the sudden inquisition. Through, really, it should have been obvious; Fleur de Joie and his now-incarcerated uncle certainly had an odd history, if television was to be believed. But after another moment of silence to collect his thoughts, the heavily-armed vigilante simply shrugged, shoulders slumping as if in defeat. All his questions about the kid lying unconscious would have to wait until his semi-good name was cleared. "Mazzquerading? I'm not mazzquerading!" he explained with an unusual amount of umph, as though it were as plain as the horrible make-up on the Malador impersonator's face even as he threw up three digits to signify his status. Striking a more thoroughly ambitious pose again, he continued on in his synthetically augmented voice, "Unlike the lazzt Bee-Keeper, I'm neither villainouzz nor irritating! Well, uzzually not irritating." There came another pause as Baxter took a step back, panning his view across the filthy water that marred the dilapidated docks. This was his chance to really establish his identity; to get some buzz going about his status as a hero, and not some insane man fixated with bees. And here was Fleur de Joie, archnemesis of the second Bee-Keeper - the perfect candidate to vouch for him, provided she didn't take him in for being crazy, too. He needed something solid; gimmicky, but solid, just like in the comics he'd grown up with. After all, he couldn't just go around giving people his name and address (even if they were famous!); that's what the insectile helmet with the totally fake compound eyes was for thwarting! But an answer... yes, he'd give his interrogator an answer. "You wanna know who I really am, Fleur de Joie?" chimed the newest incarnation of her most hated foe, again striking a dynamically over-the-top heroic stance as he addressed the plant-brandishing femme fatale towering over her out-cold capture; chest puffed out and shoulders held high. "I'm the buzz that setzz villainzz running. I'm the beezzwax that gumzz up their schemezz. When Beedom Zzity needzz help, I'll bee the one beelining to the szzene with the propolizz of peazze; and when peazze failzz, then criminalzz bezzt beeware the zzting of justizze! For no longer will it bee shriekzz and screamzz at my arrival, but the zzoft zzwooning of girlzz and people azzking 'who izz that dashing dude in the awezzome armor?' And when they zzee me flying through the skiezz of Beedom City, they'll know that they can alwayzz count on me, becauzze I - like a honeycomb of solid goodnezz - will alwayzz be there to protect the citizzenzz from the unzzcrupulouzz thugzz and mookzz that plague my zzity'zz streetzz." With another pivot and slight rise into the air, the young Bee-Keeper wannabe struck another flair-laden pose of heroism, as if he were some sort of strange symbol of suerperhoic status. "You want to know who I am? I'm the Bee-Keeper III: Hero of the Hive and apiary avenger of Beedom Zzity!" he exclaimed with boisterous confidence, even going so far as to give the green-haired super-botanist a cheesy thumbs up.

"Hey!" the Bee-Keeper interjected back at Fleur from above as he once again was insinuated as the would-be mastermind behind this plot, despite the less than stellar looking Malador now straddling the river alongside his magically-animated money golems. Honestly, it was almost too easy to follow the literal money trail - one of them colliding with a brick building not withstanding - only to come face to face with one of the most infamous of Freedom City's criminal masterminds. Baxter was only mildly disappointed; not at meeting the man in-person, mind you, but that he seemed so much more intimidating on the cover of Adrian Eldrich, Master Mage #38. Not that he wasn't a horrifically terrifying sight, what with his skeletal physique and eerie air about him, but still... there was something just off about him. Maybe it was the overly chromed skull; perhaps it was the terrible lack of conviction in the would-be master sorcerer's voice, but whatever it was had rubbed the Bee-Keeper the wrong way - no way this guy was the real deal! He just felt too phony; like a miscast actor trying to portray an already memorable character. Before he had a chance to blurt out this little factoid though, Fleur de Joie was already decking the halls with the miscreant mystic; poffing him square in the face with a giant pollen-spewing flower. At first, Baxter had almost expected the mighty would-be sorcerer to simply brush off the stuff now coating his bony body, but instead he slumped and began to fall into the icky brown water that stretched across the Fens! "I got 'im, I got im'!" cried the armored avenger at Fleur's command, swooping past the ivy-hued woman with a loud buzz as he moved to intercept the now unconscious spellslinger. Just as it looked as though the abysmal looking man was going to take a dip in the drink, the yellow-and-black clad hero took hold of the fake Malador's wrist, hoisting him up and beyond the reach of the grabby golems nearby, plopping him down beside the officially sanctioned Freedom Leaguer and arch-nemesis of his predecessor. The Bee-Keeper seemed quite pleased with himself, placing his hands on his hips in a dramatic sort of flair. "Aha! Another zzcore for the good guyzz!" came the boisterous teenager's modulated voice, rife with pride and satisfaction - though the latter seemed to wane as he stared down at the unconscious villain whom must have orchestrated this whole weird fiasco, his posture emulating his odd disappointment as he turned his insectile gaze back to Fleur de Joie. "Too bad he'zz not the real Malador the Myzztic. I mean, it'zz like he didn't even try."

"That'zz right! Feel the zzting of juzztizze!" the Bee-Keeper shouted as Sirocco hit the ground, his modulated voice an apt amalgam of self-praise and weariness. Reeling from the sudden strain, arm throbbing from wrist to shoulder, the Bee-Keeper III was nevertheless pleased with himself for having so thoroughly decked that villainous cad who'd started this fiasco. It was, after all, one less foe for the hero of the hive to worry about. That left him with... well, still quite a few, and even in his winded state, Baxter was beginning to piece together the puzzle of whom was friend and who was foe. Unfortunately, his concrete thesis on the who's-who of this particular rogues' gallery was answered for him as something small, shiny, and round came bounding towards his noggin at an unspeakably dangerous speed! With a reverberating crash as metal collided with metal, the Bee-Keeper reeled from the devastating blow, shaking his head thoroughly as the ringing in his ears intensified. It was a miracle that the armored hero was still standing, his head a throbbing cacophony of pain alongside his still tender limb; he was tired and battered, but still clinging to the fight like some bitter old crone through one more winter. But the scene hadn't gone unnoticed by the hero of the hive, despite his despairingly battered state. The man with the weird tentacle-things seemed greatly interested in that jar one of the spindly shadow-limbs was holding, but what for? It was just some old thing from yesteryear, little more than historic significance to... well, Baxter didn't know, but someone probably. He had a million questions, but now wasn't the time; right now, he had more dangerous fish to fry. Having effectively earned his ire, the Bee-Keeper III turned his attention to the sphere-flinging woman clad in the bandoleer, her previous assault having nearly knocked him for a loop in his moment of glory. She wasn't certainly giving the spider-themed girl a run for her money, given the way things looked; maybe he could help even out the playing field a little bit by throwing her off her own game! Aiming his other gauntlet-clad wrist towards the femme fatale, the Bee-Keeper took a moment to steady himself, his woozy disposition making it more than a little harder to focus on the dangerous villainous assaulting him. With a click, one of the many minuscule robot-bees loaded itself into the wrist-mounted launcher, and with another the tiny titan of terror was fired from the chamber stinger-first, its needle-like appendage secreting an unsettling concoction of sickening chemicals straight towards the armed-and-dangerous crook!

Aha! Gotcha, Raveled. Sorry 'bout that. Anyway, moving along! Will +8 vs. DC20: 1d20+8 → [5,8] = (13) Hmm... yeah, that's Stunned. Hum hum hum... Bee-Keeper does have quite a few hero points sitting there, so I suppose I'll give that save another whirl. Down to 2 Hero Points left. Will +8 vs. DC20 (minimum 18): 1d20+8 → [16,8] = (24) Fatigued Status: -1 Attack/Defense, -2 STR/DEX Free Action: Switch Array to Nauseate Standard Action: Attack +9 vs. Ricochet; DC20 Fortitude Nauseate: 1d20+9 → [17,9] = (26)

As the tumultuous onslaught of screams and clanking of metallic bits resounded throughout the museum, Baxter turned towards the origin of the noise, jumping only slightly out of his skin as the first thud reverberated through his supple physique. It was like a small earthquake, sans the vicious tremor; though the weighty sound alone was enough to both draw the boy's attention from the amber-encased insect towards the bone-chilling horror emanating from the Hunter Museum of Natural History's main exhibit chamber. After a moment of pause, the dark-skinned youth rushed towards the scene, rounding the corner and nearly knocking over a small stand with a velvet rope attached to one side as he skirted and hopped his way at a breakneck pace to see what all the commotion was about. Like the victim of a cliche' vampire B-movie, Baxter's face went pallid as his eyes feasted on the animatronic monstrosities now roaming through the corridors; schoolmates and tourists alike in a panic to escape the encroaching doom of the tyrannical Robo-Rex, its faux teeth just as horrific as the real deal - if not more so! - as it stood defiantly in the wake of its transcendence from machine to dangerous adversary. The other diode-laiden demon-robots were insignificant by comparison, the massive Tyrannosaurus towering above everyone and everything as though it were the unquestionable alpha of the pack. Even now, amidst the awkwardly terrifying scene and confusedly dour expression etched on his face, Baxter was at a loss for words. Even more so, given the sudden taunts by a young woman besmirching the creatures' good names. But this wasn't the time to be awe-struck by the girls' bravery; now was the time for action! And first on that list was getting everyone in the museum out of the warpath of these Jurassic junkheaps. It was almost like the Hunter Museum was cursed! This was twice Baxter had been besieged by the most unlikely of circumstances in what arguably might be the most un-criminally appealing place in Freedom City! Panning the scene in desperation, the yet-to-be incognito Bee-Keeper needed something to get people moving - well, more people moving - and a means to signal for help. A twofer, if you will. That's when he laid his eyes on it: the small red pull-switch, starkly contrasting with its hazardous color scheme against the otherwise subtle wall. The fire alarm! Of course; simple and effective, and sure to get some more heroic-type peoples' attention to help deal with these unruly menaces! Seizing the moment amidst the unruly chaos battering the museum, Baxter rushed towards the familiar alarm mechanism and, with one solid tug, pulled the lever that would set off all its bells and whistles throughout the museum.

Notice +6 vs. DC 20: 1d20+6 → [20,6] = (26) Will Save +8 vs. DC 15: 1d20+8 → [9,8] = (17)

"I'm on it, bozz," the newest Bee-Keeper chimed enthusiastically, giving an overly cliche' thumbs-up as the green-haired heroine summoned her nifty looking snake-vine and took off after the rapidly departing money monster. It was quite the exciting turnout, what with Baxter having just met a member of the Freedom League and doing battle with giant towering denizens made out of dollars. Even he was having a problem believing all of this was happening; yet, here he was, wrapped up in what might be his wackiest escapade yet! With Fleur de Joie already on the move, it was time for the Bee-Keeper to follow suit. Like the revving of an engine, the metallic wings atop the impavid insect-themed hero began to beat in steady rhythm, picking up speed until only the low buzzing echoed throughout the damaged bank and the armored apiary adventurer was floating above the tiled floor. Leaning forward slightly and giving a faux salute to the remaining bank staff, the young hero soared out of the hole the coin-slinging cutpurses had made, heading skywards to get an aerial perspective on the situation. He had to move fast if he wanted to catch these self-robbing bandits; as such, the Bee-Keeper picked up the pace, giving all due chase after the scuttling shillings!

Excuse my delay; was having some router issues yesterday. Will get on this first thing when I get back from work now that everything's smoothed out Addendum: Initiative +6: 1d20+6 → [2,6] = (8)

Sorry! Was having some router woes yesterday. Hopping on it!

Whoops! My mistake. Guess I'll just hold off on that then till' after Ricochet's turn, then follow through.

Oh, man. Okay, so, that puts Bee-Keeper at the end of the initiative for the roundd since he held it. Everyone else has gone, so let's get this train wreck moving... Bee-Keeper's First Round Actions (Cont'd) Spend a Hero Point to use Ultimate Toughness, since that attack from Sirocco seems implausible for Bee-Keeper to succeed on naturally; total Toughness Save result is 30 (HP Remaining: 4) Using Extra Effort to Surge and get another Standard Action (Remaining Actions: Two Standard Actions); Bee-Keeper III becomes Fatigued at the beginning of his next turn. Utilizing All-Out Attack (-5 Defense/+5 Attack) and Power Attack (-5 Attack/+5 Damage); Total Shift is -5 Defense/+5 Damage. Standard Action #1: All-Out Power Attack Blast 10 vs. Sirocco - 1d20+10 → [15,10] = (25); DC30 Toughness Standard Action #2: All-Out Power Attack Blast 10 vs. Sirocco - 1d20+10 → [11,10] = (21); DC30 Toughness This would put Bee-Keeper at the top of the initiative for the next round, if I'm still following correctly. I'll wait and see how this pans out though before his next course of action.

Just after the Bee-Keeper was treated to a dazzling light show and the former entity of whirling death returned to the more readily discernible form of the insane acrobat. Surprise and shock paved the way for the armored avenger as the situation unfolded, the mentally unstable criminal's persona having been largely unchanged despite the macabre form he seemed capable of producing. This guy wasn't just nuts - he was a super-powered cuckoo! But at least there was good news: the armored thing that was all aglow at least didn't seem malevolent. Regardless, the stakes had been raised, and it was time to act. Before he could even retort with a quip of his own, the Bee-Keeper's eyes went wide as the tornado-man made his move. It was fast; so fast Baxter almost didn't see it coming, the flurry of strikes assailing him from what seemed like everywhere at once. All he could do was throw his arms up around his head, the plonking of blows resounding forcefully with each consecutive connection made against the heavily armored teenager. It hurt, even behind the protection of the Bee-Keeper Armor. Baxter's ears rang as he struggled to keep himself safe; but he knew he could take it, teeth grit and muscles clenched as he steeled himself against the rain of attacks. But what hurt more was the sounds of the guards; their telltale bellows of pain earning more than just a little of the hero of the hive's ire as the whirlwind of conflict embroiled the scene. His attempts at serving as an impromptu bodyguard within the museum had fallen flat in the wake of the acrobat's attack; the fact alone that the villainous cur felt fine with attacking the lightly-armed security force enough to make the dark-skinned boy's blood boil in anger, metallic gauntlets seizing up into heavy-duty fists. "Annoyanzze?!" the Bee-Keeper snapped back after the brunt of the attack had subsided, unflinching insectile helm hiding the bitterness locked on his face as he took up an aggressive stance. "I'll zzhow you an annoyanzze!" Raising a gauntlet and releasing the death-like grip of his clenched fist, the Bee-Keeper III steadied his aim and dialed up the blaster's settings through the on-board GUI, watching as the little animated bee shifted its disposition from mildly grumpy to a fine shade of furious red behind the helmet. With concussive force and an audible hum of energy, the Bee-Keeper braced his wrist with his spare hand as a pair of blasts rocketed out with a thunderous cacophony towards the now-solidified foe, their destructive force causing tangible pain to shoot up Baxter's forearm; there was no finesse or control, just raw power and the intent to take down the baffling loon hurting innocent people for whatever reason. It didn't matter; whoever this guy was, he was going down. Hard.

Well, here he was again; the familiar tiled floors and dioramas as flawless and well-kept as the last time he'd visited the Hunter Museum of Natural History. The class trip was one that Baxter had been dreading since he'd been informed at the beginning of the semester, the historical aspects of the facility all but lost on the young boy in his wanton disinterest. But it wasn't just the faux dinosaurs or the additive scholastic addendum that would likely be tacked on at the end of the expedition from the classroom that struck a nerve with him, but rather, the slew of criminal activity and death-defying antics that took place that fateful day. Even now as he explored the familiar yet foreign sights of the museum, there were no signs of conflict; no scuffs or scrapes upon the floors, no notably missing pieces of history, not even a crack in the walls. It was almost as though the entire thing had never happened at all; like a distant dream that had been forgotten. But the Bee-Keeper knew - and the struggle that went on was still as fresh as if it had happened just yesterday. But maybe this time would be different, his classmates sauntering about as they chattered like geese amongst themselves amidst the unveiling of the newest animatronic exhibit. Perhaps this time Baxter could actually peruse something he had an interest in - in this case, a small insect encased in amber behind a thick pane of glass - thanks to his autonomous freedom to examine the museum at his own leisure, his teacher's acceptance of this somewhat liberating by comparison. There weren't any creepy patrons bouncing off the walls, or shadowy tendrils caressing the various dioramas that made up the exhibits, nor even any spidery-looking or faceless women. It was... nice, he guessed. Or at least as nice as the museum was going to get, given how much history often bored him to tears. And so there he stood, earbuds in his head as the audio tour poured information into his brain about the fossilization process that had taken place for the poor bug behind the glass, Baxter's scratching notes into his binder, face awash with a vacant stare. Even in his semi-dazed seclusion from the bustling populace about him, the familiar weight of the Bee-Keeper armor kept him tethered to reality; the obvious tug against his shoulders as it remained hidden within his backpack, gravity pulling its bulky metallic form towards the ground.

Alright, so... Move Action: Fly back to the scene! Specifically, Baxter'll interpose himself between the unconscious guards and... well, everyone else to the best of his ability. Standard Action: Bee-Keeper holds his initiative until he can figure out who's friendly (and, thus, otherwise treat everyone as foes).

Armed, armored, and ready for action, Baxter was feeling the rush - that thrill that came with the mask. It was an intoxicating thing; the weight of responsibility and righteousness intermingled with anonymity that made it possible for ordinary citizens to become extraordinary within the right circumstances. Circumstances, of course, that Freedom City was more than rife with. With renewed purpose and the sound of conflict echoing throughout the halls of the Hunter Museum of Natural History, the Bee-Keeper flew from the innards of the public restroom, eager to leave behind the remnants of his former identity atop the toilet and hidden behind the locked stall in order to do what he'd come to love since acquiring the mechanical marvel: dispensing justice and protecting the innocent. Sure, it wasn't always in that specific order, but now wasn't the time for debate; it was a time for action! People were in grave danger from that acrobatic freak, and it was up to the Bee-Keeper to deliver the welts of good upon his foe before he could strike again! Absconding through the air with all the bravado and adroit flair of an angry honey badger, the armored apiary returned to the scene of the crime where the guards had just been beaten down so viciously. Unfortunately, having left for only a moment had caused the scene to develop in very peculiar ways. Chief amongst these were the strange alien-thing in the gold armor, the web-motifed heroine, and the eerie tornado-esque creature that looked like a much less horrible effect from Twister. It was like a smorgasbord of powered ne'er-do-wells! But where there was a menagerie of mostly unidentifiable individuals, there also came a distinct lack of familiar faces. Sure, the guards were still slumped over, but where had the other three ladies capered off to? What happened to the flippy fellow who'd caused so much havoc? Whatever; all that mattered right now was putting all of these crooks behind bars... though, to be fair, there were quite a lot of them. "Hold it right there, evildoerzz!" came the cry of the Bee-Keeper, his heavily modulated voice only as stern as his wavering confidence in the situation, panning from the betentacled fella with the jar and to each assembled patron present, hands upraised and arms outstretched in anticipation of having to blast each perceived threat as the hero of the hive made his threat. "Give yourzzelvezz up, unlezz you want to feel the zzting of juzztizze!"