SpicyWaffle

With a sigh, Baxter's hand found its way winding through his hair, face contorted into an appearance of seeming defeat. Lips furled inward, the scholastically unenthusiastic young man turned back towards his newly procured friend, again feeling insignificant in the wake of the figure's statuesque grandeur. "Yeah. Guess you could say I'm sort of on parole or whatever," the youngest of the Bowles groaned, the irony in the analogy not lost on him. Staring at the fossilized footprint, the secret adventurer could only muster a blank, uninterested glance towards the ancient artifact in front of him. "I've got this history paper due, and if I bomb again it'll mean I'll need to repeat the entire grade. Not exactly having a blast here, but I guess that's what I get." Shuffling a bit in place, Baxter gain tugged on his notebook with a slight grimace, returning to the mostly blank contents therein. Sure, he'd brought it on himself what with skipping classes, out saving lives in lieu of studying for the impending finale that was his semester at FDR High. How all those Young Freedom guys did it was a mystery to the young hero, their secrets all but alien to the teen struggling to balance his dual identities. Practice makes perfect, though Baxter definitely picked a bad time to do so! Once more, his hand finds its way to his temple, Baxter rubbing his skull gingerly as the stress begins to sink in. "Now I've got till' tomorrow to get this thing all written up, and I'm still at square one! Geez."

GM Post After the hasty rescue of the rotund individual through a rather haphazard means of bringing the so-called 'lump of flesh' to the awaiting paramedics, Jubatus resumed his self-styled endeavors with another quick scouting of the Lacrenza Apartments' first floor. Zipping through the perpetually frozen flames and winding his way beyond the overwhelming torrent of smoke, the Fastest Cat Alive had ample time to not only scour the lowest floor of the complex, but the other two as well; barring, of course, the occasional interference through newly minted debris. Nevertheless, despite the tumultuous circumstances and the unflinching, unending creaks and groans of the facility, it seemed everyone whom was lodged inside the burning domicile had been aptly evacuated. The last of the potential victims, however, didn't appear to be civilians, but rather a pair of oddly-garbed misfits: a man dressed to the nines in a colorful card-themed attire, and the previously seen Bee-Keeper with which the humanoid cheetah had already discerned minutes earlier. Back within the relative safety of the various EMT crews and associated rescue teams, Blue Jay has a moment of reprieve, breathing the fresh oxygen through the mask as the children around her follow suit; save for the young baby, whom is aptly whisked away by professionals. One of the attendants, a woman perhaps only a few years older than the arrow-toting heroine herself, took her time as she applied the relieving ointment to the archers' various burns. "Not as bad as it looks," the woman hums softly, an almost motherly tone inflected upon her voice as another gloved hand lined with the cooling salve brushes the adventurer's chin. "Freedom City's lucky to have you guys around. I sure couldn't be the one to go barreling in--" but whatever the technician was going to say next was quickly silenced as the crowd erupted into an amalgam of shock and horror. It's no surprise why, as onlookers point and scream in the direction of the engulfed building and police move to press the crowd further and further away hurriedly. The Lacrenza Apartments were coming down! Inside the quickly deteriorating building, Bee-Keeper and the King of Suits hit the second floor running, flames licking at their heels. As they round the corner towards where the siren song of danger had originated only a few moments prior, forced to traverse the sloughing apartments' fallen metalwork and mortar-based obstructions, the two heroes are just in time to witness a young boy leap from the tattered remnants of a fire escape, the sounds of another voice from outside faint but audible in their ears. Were it not for the fallen doors and wall of fire barring their path, perhaps an expedient rush towards the civilian leaping from the building would have been in order, but such a ploy would have been foolish at best. Beyond the roar of the fire, the hurried yelling of medical professionals barely reach the lofty heights of the dynamic duo still present inside the building; a sound of prominent comfort, provided the little boy managed to get down from the second story without injury. The time for such thoughts are quickly extinguished, however, as the Lacrenza Apartments sway violently again. More debris plummets from the rooftop, shattering floorboards and ripping holes in the brick walls as the steel pillars sustaining it moaned wearily. Again, it lurches and leans, the building filling to the brim with the cacophonous squeal of metalwork coming undone as the floor itself begins to give way; taking on an homage of the Leaning Tower as the apartments begin their final throes. It was now or never; whatever was left of the mortar and steel complex was about to come toppling down on the King of Suits and his apiary associate!

Static blared through the insect-like helm of the Bee-Keeper, nothing but muffled words and garbled speech resonating through the sensors. It was probably for the best then that the gas mask wearing vigilante was more than on top of the situation in that regard. For all the high-tech gizmos the suit had built-in, it was all but made moot by the crackling of flames and obfuscating smoke. Apparently, Uncle Barry hadn't considered the possibility of himself being locked in a burning building! Regardless, before Baxter could even so much as announce his inability to locate the position of the voices, the seismic showdown took its course. With a wobble and the detachment of concrete from the ceiling plummeting through the floorboards, the Bee-Keeper found himself tossed to the ground from the surprising outcry. That was all she wrote; it was clear to Baxter that the Lacrenza Apartments weren't going to be apartments much longer. Rising up from having just been rocked to the ground with a weighty stagger, Bee-Keeper panned around towards the site of the fallen debris, grimacing secretly as he coughed and sputtered from the suffocating smog. "Right beehind you, bozz," Baxter replied, glad that the other superhero stuck in this scenario was seemingly far more competent and experienced. He did have that sort of charm about him, an almost leader-like quality in his take charge mannerisms as he careened down the newly conjured portal to the lower levels. With wings a'fluttering, Bee-Keeper III made his own beeline for the hole, following the Hoyle-inspired hero down into the blazing depths below in search of these remaining survivors.

Likewise! With summer vacation and his own ineptitude outside of the Bee-Keeper Armor, Baxter might be interested in some more practical lessons. Maybe some pointers in stabpunchery, but that seems like he'd be getting ahead of himself since he can barely throw a punch on his own!

Baxter, having been engrossed in an amalgam of boredom and chicken-scratching within his notepad, was more than a bit grateful someone had meandered on over to his neck of the museum. The man was certainly a sore thumb by comparison to the teen in the grey Soul Stampede shirt and jeans, his height alone causing him to serve as a painted target as Baxter turned and looked upwards to meet his gaze. "Yeah. Guess that's irony for you," the young man replied, unsure how to take the joke even as he feigned a smile out of some necessity to seem polite. It was plain on his face he didn't want to be here, but such was his life, now forced to lie in the bed he'd made himself. All of this historical significance - significant though it might be - was nonetheless boring the kid to tears. Jotting down a few more notes with his pencil, Baxter looked down at what he'd had thus far. For half an hour he'd been putting about in the museum, and all he had to show for it were three halfhearted sentences: current era, lots of mammals, ice age. This was shaping up terribly, and even as he glanced downwards at the insignificant amount of information he'd collect, Baxter couldn't help but sigh at his own predicament. He needed to focus; the last thing he wanted to do was repeat his Sophomore year over something so trivial as a single paper. But as soon as it was done, he felt confident he could make it through the rest of the year, tolerating those last few weeks with some grain of courage in that he wouldn't be a repeat.

GM Post With a few zips at an impossibly fast speed, the Fastest Cat Alive does his best to evacuate the group of trapped civilians from the Lacrenza Apartments. One by one they came, brought by the awkward-looking super-speedster right to the awaiting paramedics, where it seemed more like they'd just magically appeared in lieu of an actual rescuer being present. It's certainly faster than the trained medics can handle them, but at least the denizens of the complex had been liberated thanks to the fleet-footed feline's quick thinking and swift election towards action. The people, no doubt, would be immensely grateful if they weren't either busy hacking up what sounded like a lung or being rushed inside ambulances. It's hard to tell for sure, but it looks as though they'll all come out all right in the end. This was fortunate, as even now the man-cat was feeling the strain of his endeavors, his hind legs feeling as though they were slabs of meat and some punchy boxer just went a few rounds on them. But still, with his sudden escapades, Amy Feng was already all over it, her voice loud and proud as to rise above the commotion around her as she rolled with the sudden appearance of the newfound evacuees. "This is Amy Feng, reporting live from the Fens. What began as a nightmare here at the Lacrenza Apartments has taken a turn for the better, as local heroes have since arrived on the scene. Civilians have been brought to safety in the wake of the fire, thanks in no small part to our own local firefighters working in conjunction with Freedom City's finest. So far, more than a dozen individuals have been brought out of the blaze. Witnesses have confirmed that three superheroes are on the scene, as well as who is believed to be the Bee-Keeper, the very super-villain whom terrorized Freedom Hall." Whatever congratulations Jubatus might have received, however, are quickly stunted as the crowd outside gives a loud, collective gasp. The building the cheetah-man had just departed creaked and groaned as the building's roof caved slightly, sending asphalt and mortar raining down to the street below. This was it; there was no saving the Lacrenza Apartments now, but hope of doing so before was slim at best to begin with. It was just a matter of time now before the whole thing caved in on itself, leaving nothing behind but broken debris and memories of what once was someone's home. Back inside, Blue Jay had better luck finding stragglers than the boys upstairs, the eldest girl and her ensemble of siblings now firmly affixed to the female archer in a lengthy humanoid chain. As the heroine began to lead them deeper into the bowels of the burning building, she could have sworn she'd seen something out of the corner of her eye; some sort of sandy-hued fleeting blur, though perhaps it was merely the flames playing tricks on the interdimensional teen's eyes in the wake of the heat. But whatever illusion Tona might have been drawn to was quickly snuffed out by reality, as there came a moment of dread when the apartments suddenly sashayed. It felt as though the whole thing just swiveled on its nonexistent hips, and as the sound of crumbling infrastructure reverbed throughout, the disasterous sound of concrete and debris from above pierced the melodic crackle of flames and gentle wheezing of the children. Time was running out; with the stairwell's descent inaccessible, options were becoming an increasingly sparse commodity. Even now, the remainder of the hallway was becoming increasingly inhospitable as smoke and fire have begun to converge on the crews' position. They needed to find an exit soon! Further upstairs, things weren't going quite as well. While Bee-Keeper was unable to determine exactly where the voices were coming from due to interference and made this advent plainly obvious, Marceau was more up-and-up in that regard. While it wasn't a pinpoint location, the King of Suits knew for sure that the voices were originating from below... and that there were others. This revelation is cut short though as a slab of mortar comes crashing through the ceiling, shearing one of the vacant rooms asunder with its wanton destruction at the hands of the inferno. Whatever it was the costumed hero and armored adventurer were going to do, it was as plain as the suffocating smoke and blinding heat in the building that they wouldn't have much time left to do it. Time was running out, and the Lacrenza Apartments were going to come down on their heads if they didn't act soon!

Still in the thick of it after his first rescue alongside the vigilante in the colorful getup, Bee-Keeper snooped around the remains of the Lacrenza Apartments' third floor. The fire was still creeping along, having now engulfed the room where the man and his injured relative had been only a few moments prior. He might not have been the most experienced, or the most naturally gifted, or even actually have a viable skill set for the whole heroic fire rescue thing, but what Baxter lacked therein he made up for in a strange sense of idealism and energy. Even as he wheezed and hacked within the confines of the tin can that was the Bee-Keeper Armor, the young man behind the helmet was still concerned and ensconced within a shell of worry. What if he missed someone in the blaze? What he just wasn't fast enough? Sure, the multitude of extra hands helped, and provided the other two figures he'd spied earlier were anything like himself, they were no doubt doing their own parts. The cries of that missing someone, no doubt some young girl in danger from being immolated, only further served to motivate the aspirant. Spurred on my desperation and a sense of dread, Baxter gave his more colorfully-garbed counterpart as furtive a nod as he could muster. "I zzink zzo. Give me a zzecond..." the apian adventurer coughed over the crackle of embers in the dark building, a stark contrast to the well-lit outdoors. The roar of the fire came on like someone had blared their radio as the Bee-Keeper activated the armor's auditory sensors, antennae twitching to and fro as it worked to pinpoint the source of the feminine distress signal.

Bee-Keeper follows suit with a Notice Check: 11

Things weren't going so well for Baxter Bowles, mild-mannered teenager and attendee of FDR High. He'd been struggling through his classes, though more so now than ever with the advent of his latest hobby having begun to take its toll on his already slipping grades. But this latest thing - this 'second chance' his Ms. Reynolds had preached to him - would be the difference between failing his history class and thus doomed to repeat his current curriculum all over again, or be the deciding modicum that would push Baxter on to the next set of scholastic challenges. Both options were unappealing to the young man now poised in the heart of the Hunter Museum of Natural History, but if one were to choose the lesser of two evils, Baxter was all about getting it done, over with, and never spoken of again. So here he was, having been given a week to write out an essay on the history of the Cenozoic period, staring down a large fossilized... something; history never was Baxter's keenest interest, and he didn't even know what he was looking at. A whole week, and only now on the day before the deadline did the young student even begin his research. It wasn't that he hadn't tried, merely that things kept cropping up. First, it was his driver's test. Then it was that meet-and-greet with his cousin Danielle. Saturday wasn't any better, when Baxter had decided to go masquerading in the dead of night as some sort of bee-themed lunatic in order to punch an armed goon in the gut during a break-in at Rocket Records. Suffice it to say that the budding hero had a lot on his plate as of late, no thanks in part due to this particular assignment. The only thing keeping Baxter here, a sour look in his eyes and a bored expression etched upon his face, was the fact that if he failed - and, as it was looking, was becoming increasingly more obvious - he would have to repeat his Sophomore year. Also, there'd be an earful from his parents on that subject; and right now, Baxter couldn't afford another parent/teacher conference... not without questions being raised as to why he'd been gone for lengthy periods of time in the middle of class. Reaching into his backpack for his pencil and notepad as he stared at the fossilized human footprint, the boy's fingers caressed the familiar metal casing of another something in his pack; a something that, as far as he was concerned, had changed his life for the better despite all the bad reputation associated with it. It brought him a sense of confidence, in a way, reassuring him that anything was possible. And so, Baxter did what he'd come to do in the first place that fine Sunday afternoon: scratch out notes for a paper he should have had done a week ago.

Just here for the history lesson. Honest! Nope, not prepared for a climactic battle within blast radius of priceless artifacts in the least.

GM Post After the hail of scrap and debris, Blue Jay's newest surroundings amidst the rising pyre seemed remarkably unchanged by comparison on the ground level of the apartments. Like the higher floors, this one was a wreck wreathed in dancing lights, the overwhelming heat and blinding smoke a constant reminder that this wasn't just some sort of ridiculous clambake. The room itself the young heroine found herself looked like it'd been vacant for months, if not longer. The walls were peeling paint, taking on an ashen appearance; but even in the ensuing chaos of the Lacrenza Apartments fire, this domicile looked like a den for rats. What little signs of life that might have once resided here had long gone, leaving in its wake disparaging stains and patchwork repairs on the wide-open metallic door. Thankfully, the fire didn't seem quite so widespread here on the first floor; and even as this became obvious to the archer, smoke drifting through the room like some sort of malignant black disease, the tell-tale sound of voices and heavy footfalls echoed throughout the creaking building. "Good. Great. That's the last of em'. Now get that hose in here, Brown! There's still civvies up on the second floor," comes a voice, muffled but pronounced as the footsteps grew louder amidst the crackling of splintering wood. Suddenly, the figure comes into view; garbed in a heavy-duty looking outfit of beige, its face obscured by a bulky mask and helmet with its visor turned down protectively. In one hand, the discernibly male figure carries what appears to be a heavy hatchet of sorts, its blade an eerie shade of red despite its wooden handle. The other arm, however, is what's important: a young boy likely still attending high school, propped up by the fireman as he was working his way out of the building through the still burning hallway. For a moment, he seems to glance Tona's way, a surveying glance thrown towards the mask-bearing young lady. "You a cape? God, it's good to see someone else in here! Kid here's the last one on this floor, but we can't get that stairwell under control. We've still got people trapped on the next one up," explained the fireman with all the expediency he could muster, pointing down the hallway where the stairs likely were as the young man straddling his arm coughed violently. It isn't more than a moment later that the distinct sound of a collapse breaks the monotony of smoldering embers, causing the rescue team member and his young ward to jump slightly at the clatter of concrete and furniture further down the hall. This notion seems to spur the firefighter on, as he recoups his exit from the burning brick building. "Not sure how much time we've got before it comes down! After I get this kid out of here, we'll be back to try and get the fire down. If you can, see what you can do! Please!" the man pleaded, and with that he began his escort out of the Lacrenza Apartments with all the haste he could muster. Meanwhile, outside of the building up in smoke, Jubatus zoomed around the perimeter back to where he'd rescued the woman and her pets. Another quick survey of the building revealed more information about the surroundings as the blur of fur whizzed along, catching a glimpse of a young girl donned in heroic attire through a window and a smattering of firemen, but any more signs of stranded civilians weren't made obvious... at least not at first. Further up on the second story, the speedster caught a glimpse of a silhouette in one of the windows, the figure's form all but blotted out by the smoke as it pounded weakly upon the glass pane. An educated guess would deduce that's probably where the fire originated, but without a proper investigation, there was no way to be certain. What was certain - at least for Jubatus - was that there were still people up there, unable to escape... and looking significantly worse for wear, accented by the visage of the figure at the window fading from sight within raging inferno! Back on the third floor, the King of Suits and Bee-Keeper III were quickly coming to the conclusion that there weren't any other civilians atop the final floor of the building. Doors had been flung open, and the ones that hadn't been bore no signs of life; either locked up tight, or bearing things such as burnt mail that had been delivered to the doors of the apartments' denizens they could only hope either escaped or weren't present when the blaze began. A quick inspection of the remaining domiciles proved this to be true, a number of the doors having fallen off their hinges in the wake of the reaping flames. There wasn't much left of the top floor, and it was becoming increasingly clear that the structural integrity of the apartments - even for an untrained mason - was creaking and groaning under the strain of the turmoil. The thing could come down any minute now! Whatever civilians were left, they had to be on one of the lower floors; though the stairway down was looking particularly unwelcoming, its own carpeted pathway downwards coated in a fine layer of searing heat. That's when the voice broke through, catching all of our heroes' attention with her cries for help: "Is anyone else out there?! We-- we need help! Please, I don't want to die! Help!!" screeched the voice of a young girl, coughing and wheezing between bursts of what sounded like sobs. "Oh, god! Someone, ... please!"

Between the choking exhaust of the still-growing flames, the helpless individuals trapped like rats inside a burning cage, and the sudden urgency of what was Baxter's first truly heroic endeavor, the young yellow-and-black clad vigilante found himself in a disquieted state. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as the danger surrounding him began to embroil his endeavors, doing more than placing a mild case of anxiety upon the Bee-Keeper's state of mind. The only saving grace at the moment was the gentleman trapped inside the conflagration alongside him; a fellow much more experienced in his occupational hazards than the novitiate heir to the Bee-Keeper legacy. It was a calming thing, having someone else in the same field of work to watch; to see how a true superhero coped with the pressures presented and encouraging the juvenile hero-in-training to follow the man's example with renewed zeal. "You got it, bozz," wheezed the bee-themed fellow in the heavy-looking armored suit forcibly, stifling an uproarious cough as he navigated his way to the injured woman. The heat was bad enough as it was, but all this smoke? All this smoke was for the bees, man! Only now, after all those visits from fire fighters and drills at school, did he earnestly take what he'd been taught seriously. As instructed by his veteran counterpart, Baxter maneuvered through the bedroom and up towards the now infirm woman, the crackle of splintering wood from the devouring element particularly loud in the young man's ears as he surveyed his intended rescue, the sight of her injury more than a little disconcerting . As frail and light as she was, the suit's superior strength was probably unnecessary, but certainly helpful as the bee-themed fellow hoisted her cautiously between his arms, charging after the suit-patterned through the blinding smoke. Following the man's example and prior instructions, the Bee-Keeper floated as best he could out of the window as his elderly dependent let loose a small squeal of shock and surprise, the armored avenger landing as gently as he was able before depositing her into the other rescuee's capable arms along the side of the building. "Zzee? That wazzn't zzo bad!" Baxter consoled the older woman, himself giggling with relief as a wave of fresh air flooded the metallic suit he'd been encased in. But despite his confident facade, the Bee-Keeper had been more than a little unnerved by the situation. He might not have been an engineer, or up and up on how buildings were constructed at all, but he'd seen enough action movies to know that a burning building had a tendency to collapse on itself. There wasn't any telling if it was up to the task of remaining elevated for much longer, as far as the Bee-Keeper could tell, and that only further filled him with a sense of impending dread. He and his newfound compatriot needed to get moving if they wanted everyone out in time! And so, following the King of Suits, the newest incarnation of the infamous villain fluttered his way upwards after him back into the building.

Bee-Keeper might not be one of those fancy-shmancy art critics, or a buff on natural history, but he does love himself some juzztizze! Color me interested, if you'll have me aboard.

From his lofty vantage point, the newest incarnation of the Bee-Keeper was all but oblivious to the affairs transpiring back on the streets behind him, the roar of the sirens and clamoring crowd, however, lent a distinct sense of something going on. Baxter's face was thankfully fully obfuscated by the heavy metallic helmet of the Bee-Keeper Armor, for as the smoke and fire rose and spread, the young boy's face contorted into a very unhealthy grimace of displeasure drenched in sweat. Heart beating against his chest like a hammer to a nail, this wasn't quite what Baxter had in mind when he wanted a definitive test; but it was too late now to complain, and the young man was saddled with his decision. These people were counting on him. Just as the fellow trapped at the window began his second bout of intense coughing in the wake of the searing, smoke-laden complex, arms outstretched in his helpless situation, something peculiar draws the Bee-Keeper's attention. The first thing is a peculiar sight; a darting shadow above the would-be hero's head as a figure absconded to the rooftop, the entity's identity having been missed by Baxter's own tardy reflexes. Soon thereafter, another fellow crashed the party in a very literal way, barreling through the window with astounding efficiency despite the danger presented near the aspirant himself. This time, the bee-themed hero got at least a glimpse for that small window of opportunity; the fellow looking not unlike the living embodiment of a deck of playing cards. Whether they were friends was a moot point at the moment, the sudden entourage set aside by the adrenaline-fueled youth loitering by the window for what felt like a small eternity. "Right. Letzz go!" buzzed the robotic-sounding busy bee, taking the man by the arms and hoisting him out of the smog-clogged window. It was a surprisingly easy affair thanks to the battlesuit's superior servos doing most of the heavy lifting; all Baxter had to do was not drop the man at this point. Whirling around mid-air, man held aloft, the sight below looked much more hoity-toity than he'd first thought. Between the crowd, the police, EMT, and firemen, it was certainly quite the turnout! But as the Bee-Keeper descended from his lofty spot in the air, something peculiar caught his eye: a cat! A giant, spotted cat that looked like it'd been stripped out of a National Geographic special and bombarded with radiation! Now there was something Baxter didn't see everyday. Plopping the victim of the abrupt inferno down in front of the ambulances and putting the weird cat-thing's appearance aside for the moment, the Bee-Keeper stopped a moment to revel in his good deed. Just a moment, of course, was all he could spare before the looks of incredulity started finding their way towards the post-infamy heir of the Bee-Keeper name. Behind the helmet, Baxter couldn't help but furl his lip inwards, no doubt appearing more as an emotionless vigilante thanks to the unflinching visage of the battlesuit's design. It was more uncomfortable than he thought it would be; the stares. But it was one of those things he'd come to expect. After all, Baxter's uncle certainly earned his place in the realm of villainy, comical though his endeavors often were. Thankfully, the Bee-Keeper wasn't going to stick around for things to escalate beyond this state of awkwardness. "You zzhould bee okay now," Bee-Keeper reassured the man, patting him soundly on the shoulder before taking a deep breath himself. There might still be more people inside, and if those other people charging inside were here to help, the least the inexperienced apian could do was lend a hand; preferably without getting in the way. With a whir of steel wings and a faux salute to the assembled patrons outside of the still burning building, the Bee-Keeper lifted off again, rocketing back towards the open window the man had crashed through only moments ago, granting a "Back to buzzinezz!" quip before his departure. Inside the gigantic furnace, the Bee-Keeper's already bulky suit was doing little to stave off the intense waves of heat. But despite his fear, despite the sudden tightness in his lungs and his shortness of breath, Baxter was here to do a job; or, at the very least, try. But now, standing inside and within eyesight of the living deck of cards whom had made his way inside before him, the young battlesuit bearer couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement... he certainly looked like the heroic type, and for right now, looks were enough for him. "Hey! You! Find anyone elzze in here?" Sure, it might not have been the most professional-sounding inquiry on the Bee-Keeper's part as he addressed the King of Suits in a shout just above the crackle and roar of the sweeping flames, but it was a new thing for Baxter to see supposed superheroes live and in-costume. Besides, being in a hurry tends to skew the formalities in lieu of expediency. The last thing the Bee-Keeper wanted to do was get caught inside the building if it collapsed; and doubly-so for those still present.

GM Post As the Lacrenza Apartments continued to smolder in the wake of the spontaneous fire, the assembled crowd of fearful citizens let loose cries of jubilation as Freedom City's protectors began to make their fortuitous arrivals. Like actors walking the red carpet, it was a thunderous and abrupt affair accented by whistles and encouraging fanfare, particularly so for the card-themed crusader and the fleet-footed feline as the crowd chants for their favorite on-scene advocate. Outside of the blazing apartments, Jubatus' timely arrival to the heated scene was a mostly welcomed sight, as evidenced by the cheering of formerly panicked citizenry watching the catastrophe unfold in front of them, though more than a couple individuals give the fellow a hard look of incredulity, curiosity and expressive concern. It doesn't take a scientist to figure out who's calling the shots at this shindig, and the clever technocrat quickly found the head honchos leading the charge to liberate the imprisoned evacuees still confined to the quickly degrading apartments. There were two, in fact, and as they stood amidst the impromptu command center of huddled ambulances, fire engines, and police cruisers, they seemed to be embroiled in a flurry of activity of their own. One of them was an older Caucasian fellow, dressed in the typical boy-in-blue attire common amongst Freedom's Finest, a thick grey mustache lining his upper-lip, standing out more prominently due to the fellow's otherwise chromed dome. The other man is much younger by comparison, a middle-aged man whose heritage is more debatable with his darkened skin but exotic, almost oriental features, clad in a thick array of fire-retardant garments and shielded helmet, visor uplifted so as not to obfuscate the fellow's features. "Finally! Someone to help!" the policeman shouted, extending a hand towards the felidae hybrid as he approached. "Good to see a friendly face. I'm Sergeant Johnson, and this is Lieutenant Reddy. We're working on coordinating our boys here, and we could use an extra hand. This is getting out of control! First the fire, then that guy showed up," the elderly officer shouted so as to hear himself over the throng behind the police line, thrusting a finger towards the armored entity fluttering in front of the window of one of the survivors as smoke continued to bellow out of the windows. "What Chuck said," added the fireman clearly running the rescue op, granting the would-be cat-person an amalgamated look of disbelief and skepticism. "We've got boys on the ground floor pulling folks out, but the stairwell's inaccessible till' we can get a water relay setup going; we just don't have enough water to stop the spread and get up there. Problem is, we've got people still stuck on the second and third floor and we can't spare a ladder team; if we can't get them out quick, the smoke'll get to them before we can. Hopefully those other heroes'll get to them in time." The experienced fireman sighs heavily, removing his helmet to run a hand through his sweat-drenched dark hair in thought before returning his headgear to its proper place. "No fire alarm went off when the fire started so we didn't get a chance to catch it early, and reports on that are sketchy, too. There's no telling how many folks are inside still, but that's our number one priority. If you've got any ideas beside running in there or beating our heads against a brick wall, I'm all ears." Meanwhile, back at the smoke-filled window, the fellow coughing and sputtering his insistence at rescue seemed uncaring as to whom exactly was doing the rescuing. Rightfully so, given the grim situation he'd been placed in. Already covered in a small coat of soot from the burning interior, the man extended his arms towards the armored apiary adventurer, a pleading look etched into his face. Inside the Lacrenza Apartments' third floor, both King of Suits and Blue Jay had made their way into the inner workings of the complex proper. With the fire the most intense inside, the already staggering heat from outdoors was magnified in the wake of the blaze. It was unlike what was often portrayed in the movies; within the brick and mortar facility, the carpeting and walls are asunder with the roiling flames, whilst the hardwood floors remained (mostly) navigable; the scent of burnt paneling and paint suffused with the smoke causing an uncomfortable but bearable irritation. The air was dry and rough, inhalation even below the rising levels of smoke an ordeal in itself; stifling and exhaustive as the oxygen becomes more and more scarce. But the time for such concerns might be moot as the pair of otherwise ordinary heroes call out, letting whomever might be within the building that help has arrived; in fact, the two hear each other's inquiries, an almost comical echo were it not for the circumstances that had brought the two adventurers now only separated by the opposite sides of the building's square-shaped floor plan. "Yes! In here!" comes a voice nearest to Blue Jay on the south end of the building, near the rooftop entryway and opposite the firemen and news crew. The archer readily recognizes the source of the cry, pinpointing the feminine request for aid just a few doors down where the hallway turns, spouts of fire and smoke curling their way lazily near the junction. The path itself seems unobstructed, but time is of the essence; the spreading flames don't appear to be waiting for anyone as they begin to creep towards the doorway! "Get us outta here, man! Hurry!" another voice echoes, followed by another murmur from one of the rooms just a few feet from where the King of Suits was poised. Following the auditory trail and trying hard not to breath in the wafting smoke rife with an odd odor, the caped crusader found the locale easy enough. The problem, of course, lied in that the flames had already begun to consume the paneling around the metal-barred door, its frame wreathed in a smoldering sheath of roiling embers that stripped the meager coat of paint and crass graffiti that lined the walls with equal aplomb.

Finally, Summer Vacation had arrived! For many youngsters in Freedom City, this was a chance to sit back and relax, to hang out with their friends and family without having the looming concern of homework, school projects, extracurriculars, or teachers looming over their shoulders. Teenagers all over the city would be free of the semi-tyrannical reign that was the school system, at least for a time. In the wake of this absence, no doubt more than a few would leave the comforts of home for greener pastures until time again forced their return; to the scenic southern beaches, to see distant relatives, or simply to party like teens are wont to do in the wake of freedom, a mere moment of their own to live a stress-free life that all too soon would feel like a distant memory of yesteryear. But Baxter Bowles - a garden-variety dime-a-dozen FDR High attendee - had other plans. He'd had plans for months, quietly plotting and planning, feigning ignorance and carefully practicing what he'd be doing for the rest of the summer. He'd given it much thought, contemplating the impact his endeavors would have. In his mind he saw what he wanted, how he wanted to achieve it; how things would go perfectly in his head like a masterfully constructed but nonetheless campy summer special for children. But there were times that he saw what could go terribly wrong. Was he really meant for this? Baxter wasn't conflicted, so much as afraid; afraid of failure, of coming up short in his idealistic designs. His rehearsals were coming to an end just as summer had arrived, but now it was time for his curtain call. It was time to see if he had what it took to follow what some might consider a fool-hardy dream. That dream had been an obsession once already for the young African-American boy, but now it felt as though it were in his grasp on this particularly balmy summer day as the sun scorched the pavement and cast delicate shadows across Freedom City. There was a pit in his stomach, vaccuously gnawing at the excitement in his heart; right now, Baxter was living the dream. And so here he was, donned in some ridiculous getup with whirring wings and insectile antennae, buzzing through the air faster than any car he'd ever seen as the crowded streets below moved by in a blur; its denizens all but oblivious to the flitting entity above the clouds, brick buildings and poorly maintained asphalt roads below . It was the suit, of course, that had inspired Baxter's new secret hobby, its mechanical marvels an unintentional gift from his insane uncle that had given Baxter this one opportunity to be greater than his Joe Shmoe status. Today, on the the first day of his liberation from what had become a scholastic prison ever since the Bee-Keeper II had assaulted Freedom Hall, Baxter would put his own convictions to the test - a trial by fire as the new Bee-Keeper III, an attempt at becoming redemption personified for all the heinous things the former had orchestrated. But he needed something... something to get his foot in the door to the whole superheroing gig; nothing too flashy or grandiose - after all, the Bee-Keeper II did have a bit of a reputation! - but at this point, the young Apian-themed adventurer wasn't terribly picky. Yet, despite the supposedly crime-ridden streets of Midtown, nothing had so much as been mentioned on the police scanner, the suit's radio picking up little more than muffled static or the ocassional check-in or meager disturbance. Just when he was about to change course, that's when the channel crackled to life; an ominous flurry of orders spewing into Bee-Keeper III's helmet, the automated antennae twitching towards the source to maximize the clarity of the frequency. "Attention all units: 10-76 on Fourth and Crenston at Lacrenza Apartments. Civilians confirmed. Engine 4 is en route. Requesting additional assistance..." This was it! Something other than sticking muggers to alley walls in the dead of night or interrupting a gas station hold-up. Bee-Keeper, behind the unflinching mechanical facade that was the battlesuit's yellow-and-black helmet, couldn't help but smile slightly. But even as the mechanical wings upon his back veered him towards the Fens, the young boy couldn't help but feel a twinge of anxiety now. This wasn't something he'd ever done before; butterflies now dancing in his gut as the computerized navigational system focused in on the address provided, pointing the way to the intended destination. There was a lot at stake here; peoples' lives were on the line. It was do-or-die, and Baxter - no, the Bee-Keeper! - had to be on top of his game. Just had to stay cool, despite the relentless sauna he was rushing towards all aflutter. High above, the scene fell into view immediately as the new Bee-Keeper flew into the Fens district, the fire trucks having already arrived on-scene and the obvious torrent of flame and smoke a more than adequate indicator of the already alarming situation. Below, policemen and what appeared to be a news van became evident as well, Baxter himself loftily poised as he surveyed the scene, taking in the situation with all the experience of an infant. "Geez!" decried the bee-themed adventurer to himself, a metal gauntlet clapping against the side of his sturdy helm as the stared in awe-struck disbelief at the ensuing chaos and the patrons trapped therein. "Okay, Baxter. Keep it together, man. You can do thizzz. No prezzzzure. Juzzt... juzzt people to zzave, a fire to put out, and try'n not get arrezzted by the copzz. No biggie. Juzzt... you know, don't blow it." Taking a deep breath, his heart racing within his chest, Baxter dove down towards the scene below, making a bee-line towards what looked to be an middle-aged man flailing at the window. The rush of hot air as he grew closer and closer was practically debilitating, the scent of smoke and uncomfortability of the heat just barely staved off as the Bee-Keeper came to a stop, hovering in front of the window-bound fellow before him as the rise of murmurred voices rose up from the packed street below. Baxter couldn't let it get to him; this was important. Whatever beef they had, or sentiments they wanted to hurl his way could wait for the time being. Right now, the people inside were his priority, and he was already nervous enough as it was about whisking folks out of the high-rise building currently on fire before the structure either caved in on itself or its denizens suffocated. "Hey! I'm here to buzzt you out of thizz mezz! Juzzt zztay calm, okay?" Baxter implored, hands help up defensively as if to seem unthreatening. This, however, was probably a poor tactic, given his insectile appearance and notoriety pre-emptively established, the suit's voice synthesizer making the young teenager sound suspiciously similar to the last Bee-Keeper whom had presided in Freedom City. "You gotta truzzt me. Give me your hand, and I'll have you outta here bee-fore you know it!"

OOC for this thread. While originally intended as a solo thread to establish Bee-Keeper III as an aspiring hero, I had a change of heart. I mean, it's a collaborative roleplaying site, and I'd certainly like to actually collaborate with folks! Since it was recommended that there be some guidelines for posting rates and estimated PLs, I suspect this would be a good place to post those. PL shouldn't be a problem (after all, it's just a fire!), but a post every two days before moving on would be fabulous. If you'd like to hop on in, feel free to do so and give Baxter a chance to meet some new folks. Those people trapped in the inferno aren't gonna save themselves, you know!

GM Post Saturday, June 23rd, 2012 The Fens, Freedom City 1:29 PM EST (GMT-5) It was a sweltering summer day for Freedom City, the sun perched on high as it bombarded the urban sprawl that was the Fens. The signs of an uncharacteristically intense heatwave were evident everywhere, from the passers-by in shorts and tanktops to the lack thereof on many of the streets, its denizens having moved inwards to escape the torrental heat of the outdoors through air conditioning and shade. If it weren't for the weekend itself, no doubt nobody would have been trawling the urbane jungle today, and the dapper-looking young man standing beside a cart filled with ice cream wouldn't be made to suffer as he parked his mobile business alongside the corner. But that wasn't why he was present. In fact, beyond that lone purveyor of deliciously decadent treats, there was quite the gathering outside what was considered one of the older apartment complexes still standing amidst the Fens. Through super-battles, the Terminus Invasion, and everything else that transpired regularly in the legendary city, it had remained standing on the same foundation it was formed upon almost twenty years ago. No, the reason they had all gathered like a wild flock of birds to rest their weary wings wasn't the prospect of something cool to beat the heat, but the sight before them: the Lacrenza Apartments complex up in roaring flames and spewing smoke, a trio of fire trucks blaring their sirens as a warning even as the firefighters scrambled in vain to quelch the blaze. The mortar and brick building looked like it was in dire straits as things quickly began to escalate, policemen and ambulances moving in to cordone off the area to keep the civilians safe, pushing the gawkers and would-be onlookers as quickly and as far away as the civil servants could legally manage. As the flames licked and seared the old building, rickety fire escapes began to slough and windows shattered, causing many of the on-lookers to yelp and holler in shock and surprise. The scene growing precariously more dire in the few moments the mysterious flame had erupted, another vehicle found its way to the already littered site. As the van came to a stop, its familiar Channel 3 logo emblazoned upon its side, a confident looking woman and her cameraman burst from its confines with practiced aplomb, causing several of the individuals watching the heavily-clad firemen spraying the fire in futility to shift their gaze to the media personality for but a moment. "This is Amy Feng of Action 3 News reporting live from the Fens where a massive fire has engulfed a local apartment building," she chimed into the camera with all the professionalism of a soldier whom had been raised upon the battlefield, her unflappable calm a vast contrast to the coos and screeches of the ensemble of citizens watching the horror unfold. It was almost uncanny how the daring reporter almost always managed to hit the latest of Freedom City's iconic onsets with such rapidity, but perhaps that was part of her strange charm - a woman of danger blessed with perpetual serendipity. "As you can see, firefighters are already attempting to quell the rising fl--" "There're people up there!" a middle-aged Hispanic woman cried, her accent prevalent as she pointed sharply towards a smattering of windows on the upper-floors. Like clockwork, the news cameraman aimed his tool of the trade skywards, zooming in to catch several residents of the now burning building waving frantically out of their smoke- spewing windows for assistance. Without missing a beat, the newswoman motioned for the cameraman to return, her face quickly recontorting itself into her trademark of poised precision, a single droplet of sweat beginning to form at her brow as the combined heat of the outdoors and the raging fire began to take its imminent toll, spreading across the building itself like a living, breathing thing bent on wanton destruction. "We've now got confirmation that people are still trapped inside the burning building as firefighters desperately try to get inside to help. As details unfold, we'll keep you all posted. This is Amy Feng, Action 3 News."

Amended at your recommendation. Dropped Comprehend to 1pp, and added an Obscure effect as an alternate power. Should all be kosher now, I hope :)

Player Name: SpicyWaffle Character Name: The Bee-Keeper III Power Level: 11/12 (175/178PP) Trade-Offs: None Unspent Power Points: 3 Progress To Bronze Status: 26/30 In Brief: An unlikely heir seeks to revivify the zanily tarnished Bee-Keeper legacy in the name of justice. Alternate Identity: Baxter Bowles Identity: Secret Birthplace: Bayview, Freedom City Occupation: High School Student, Superhero Affiliations: Franklin D. Roosevelt High School Family: Barry Bowles (Uncle; Incarcerated), Benny Bowles (Father), Samantha Bowles (Mother) Description: Age: 18 (DoB: May 15th, 1995) Apparent Age: 18 Gender: Male Ethnicity: African American Height: 5'10" Weight: 154 Lbs. Eyes: Hazel Hair: Black Appearance: Once a wiry sort of teenager, Baxter has since made the transition from tindertwig into that of a young man in the prime of his life, boasting a toned physique brought on through a combination of earnest exercise and his heroic hobby, though he still manages to come off as rather plain, making him capable of blending in with a crowd easily; a trait he's found somewhat useful amidst the high school crowd and would-be gumshoes trying to decipher his secret identity. When not in costume, Baxter keeps his dark hair short and simple, preferring a crew cut style to prevent any irritating interference with his vision. Typically found dressed in casual clothes purchased from Bayview Mall, the secret apiary adventurer is practically indistinguishable in terms of any other teen walking the streets... save, perhaps, for the unusual backpack often found strapped along his shoulders. In costume, however, is a wholly different matter. Once the armor goes on, Baxter becomes the Bee-Keeper (III), an up-and-coming albeit prematurely tarnished young hero of Freedom City. The armor in particular stands out, stylized more after the European Dark Bee, showing off a large pair of metallic, insectile wings of a silvery-black, a full-body battlesuit recently painted by Baxter himself with black-and-yellow stripes, and a helmet affixed to the rest of the heavy-looking ensemble which bears both a pair of antennae and faux compound eyes. More streamlined than the Bee-Keeper Armor 2.0, the 1.6 Eco-Edition is a lighter, but less versatile model that lacks many of the finer points than its crafter's final version, more so for practicality than an intended sacrifice for gain elsewhere. Unlike the more famous model worn by the Bee-Keeper II, however, this one doesn't actually host an army of living bees inside its whirring form. Rather, the Eco-Edition suit carries within itself an assortment of miniscule robo-bees, designed by Barry in the event he didn't wish to bring harm to his buzzing brothers and sisters; hence, ecologically sound for the bees, but not so much for everything else. Power Descriptions: Descriptors: Bees, Technology With no powers to speak of himself, Baxter relies on the various gadgets and gizmos his now-incarcerated uncle built into this particular streamlined, collapsible backpack-shaped model of iconic armor to get the job done. Once unpacked and donned, the armor functions as intended: physically augmenting servos with enough strength to lift a cargo jet, functional retractable wings for flight, and a plethora of self-replicating robo-bees programmed to act just like the real things, it's certainly a scientific marvel brought to life. If it weren't for the fact Uncle Barry was one too many workers short of a hive, it might have been one of the greatest inventions in the last decade; but alas, its only use now is to put fresh whelts on criminal scum before locking them up in the clink, all of which are powered by the busy little robo-bees who collect electricity like normal bees collect pollen. The most often used tools of the Bee-Keeper Armor 1.6e are no doubt the various blasters. Within the right palm of the metallic exoskeleton is a small energy converter capable of projecting a beam of golden-hued energy generated by the busy bees housed inside the suit, using them as a sort of living battery; the other hand bears a similar compartment, though this one fires super-sticky synthetic (and surprisingly delicious!) honey alternative, capable of stopping any man in his tracks while being wholly nutritious. A pair on the wrists jut out ever so slightly, but bear similar functionality, firing toxic stingers coated in synthesized bee venom which can cause illness in victims. While many of these things are insidious inventions by a distraught Barry Bowles, he wasn't a heartless inventor, and left a few failsafes just in-case things got out of hand. As such, most of the armaments carry a triggerable anti-toxin when signs of serious danger rear their head, such as an allergic reaction or the like. History: Born and raised in Freedom City's Bayview district, Baxter Bowles had always been fascinated with superheroes. After all, Freedom City was the proverbial mecca therein, and between their constant exposure on television, in comic books, and on billboards all over the city after the Terminus Invasion, it was no wonder that the young boy found himself awe-stricken by them. They were icons; people to look up to, who went out of their way to make things safer not just for the city, but for the world as a whole. As a kid, he would often fantasize about those farfetched dreams; swinging from skylines like the Raven, duking it out as Captain Thunder, and all other manner of such thoughts that children had a propensity to conjure. Such thoughts, however, faded for a time as he grew older; coming to terms that such a thing wasn't possible in his own future. Baxter grew into an energetic boy nonetheless, and things were well amongst the family. That is, until it turned out crazy ol' Uncle Barry really was crazy. He was all over the news, going around doing heinous things in a bee-suit, causing no end of grief for everyone. While Baxter was certainly shocked at this revelation, his father and Barry's younger brother was even more infuriated, having become the laughing stock of his lawfirm. For Baxter though, this shifted to life at school. No longer was he the unassuming teenage kid who slept in math class; no, he'd henceforth been demoted to 'the kid who hung out with that crazy bee guy on TV,' despite his protests that he did not, in fact, associate with his uncle. Suffice it to say that school became substantially rougher soon thereafter. Things changed though when that mysterious letter arrived, heralded by a cadre of small robo-bees. Curious, Baxter sneaked a peek at its contents, and in it contained the location of a storage unit located in the Fens, as well as a key. After the onset of Uncle Barry's criminally-insane breakdown, Baxter felt intrigued to investigate; the errant letter and its contents clearly important. It wasn't long after arriving on the scene that he found the prototype suit hidden amidst his uncle's old salvaged knick-knacks from his electronics shop, and took it as a golden opportunity - a one-of-a-kind battlesuit of his very own. He tinkered with it, figured out how it worked, and said nothing to his parents; going so far as to hide the cryptic letter he'd gotten that was probably meant for his father. But this suit? This was his chance to live the dreams he'd all but given up on; to do something more than just be himself. Like in the comics, he could be something greater; and as he discovered the secrets of the suit and how to work its robotic denizens, he felt like he could be just like his heroes on the Freedom League. Weeks turned to months whilst Baxter secretly trained away from prying eyes outside of class whenever he could, growing in confidence as he did so and studying how the mechanics of the apiary outfit worked, adamant about his goals and eager to at least make an attempt at defending the down-trodden and putting a damper on the criminal element still rampant amidst Freedom City. Now? Now, Baxter was ready. Ready to take his shot at being a real superhero, just like he'd always dreamed. Ready to take this one chance and put it all on the line in reckless abandon in order to do something for the city and its denizens as a protector. Ready to redeem his family name from his insane uncle, and fix what he'd wrought. With a fresh coat of paint, some idealism of youth, and a desire to make an impact, Baxter took up the mantle of the Bee-Keeper anew, eager to take his shot at what he believed he was meant to be. Not for fame, or fortune, but for the opportunity to rise above his station and do his part for the community as a real superhero. Personality & Motivation: Much like how there are two sides to every coin, this is no exception for Baxter. Outside of the armor and high-tech gizmos, he's just your average, everyday teenager, complete with all the problems that come along with that package. Despite his laid-back, almost idyllic facade at school and with his friends, Baxter still has to deal with all the stress of balancing a life of superheroics and secret normalcy. Things aren't always peaches and chocolate chips, but he gets by, and retains a relatively happy-go-lucky albeit somewhat reserved disposition; the latter more in part due to exhaustion than an earnest endeavor to come off that way. He's a sharp enough lad, able to work out this-and-that on his own without any hand-holding, but he's certainly no prodigy. What he lacks in physical and mental faculties, he makes up for with a strange sense of charm; that relaxed friendliness in the face of adversity and laid-back optimism that's earned him at least some indifference if not acceptance from the local cliques in school. A silver tongue helps, having had lots of practice wrapping mom and dad around his little finger with honeyed words and careful omission. Sure, he might lie on occasion, but that doesn't mean his morals are flippant things to be tossed around. His compass, while skewed, is nevertheless pointed soundly towards that of good. On the flip side as the Bee-Keeper III, Baxter is a wholly different fellow. Behind the mask and within the hardened metallic suit of insectile inspiration, he feels changed; empowered and confident, nearing the point of arrogance, some might say, and emboldened by a desire to do good. Often found spouting horrible bee-related puns and making grandiose speeches in a truly voluble manner, it almost seems comical by comparison. Yet, despite his charmingly goofy routine as a wise-cracking, apiary-themed adventurer, the newest Bee-Keeper takes his self-appointed job quite seriously, adamant in his fight against injustice. Ever since he was a kid growing up in Freedom City, he'd watched superheroes on TV and read comic books, but Baxter never thought he'd had the stuff to really be a hero; saving people from the criminals and bringing them to justice were just farfetched dreams that were crushed before they'd began. That is, until he found his Uncle's old suit of armor. Given a chance to actually live the dream and redeem the good name of his family after his uncle's tumultuous decent into madness, Baxter felt compelled to take up the mantle. After all, it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; to be something more than average or an associate of a crazy bee-themed loon, helping people in a way that most might consider unachievable on a personal level. This was his chance to be a real superhero and redeem his good name, whilst putting villainous vagrants in their place in the process! Powers & Tactics: Hit hard and hit fast. This is the grand strategem the young bee-themed hero has relied on for the last few months, utilizing the armor's various features and augmented capabilities to put evil-doers in their place through brute force, superior mobility, a little crowd control, and the (relative) safety the battlesuit provides from conventional arms. Having never been officially placed in a position of cooperation with other heroes yet, the newest incarnation of the Bee-Keeper isn't quite sure what he'll do when thrust into such a circumstance, but thus far things have been going swimmingly. Complications: Bee Amazzzzing! (Obsession): While he wasn't always as such, Baxter has begun to harbor a newfound interest in bees. Sure, he doesn't have any live ones at the moment, but its quickly becoming a fascinating study for the boy that's no doubt been spurred on by his discovery of Uncle Barry's decidedly denounced prototype battlesuit. When he can find the time, Baxter seeks out knowledge regarding these busybodies in an endeavor to unlock his - and the suits - full potential, like his misguided uncle before him. Homeroom by Nine O'Clock (Responsibility): While the Bee-Keeper's sting might always be within reach of lawbreakers everywhere, Baxter isn't always so fortune to be suited up to do so. After all, he has things he must attend to on a regular basis; and of these things, the bane of them all is his curricular studies. As a high school student, Baxter must attend (and slip out only when it's easy to get away with) his classes regularly, relegating the majority of his crime-fighting activity to the late night variety. Failure to show up... well, hopefully there won't be another parent/teacher conference any time soon. Who is that Masked Apian Weirdo? (Secret): As a would-be superhero, Baxter does his best to keep his identity a closely guarded secret. While supervillains, mooks, and various other misguided miscreants might prove a perilous sort of ordeal for the aspiring apiary protege, there is one thing he fears more: his parents finding out he's been sneaking out to fight crime on the side. Abilities: 6 + 6 + 6 + 4 + 0 + 8 = 30PP Strength: 34/16 (+12/+3) Dexterity: 16 (+3) Constitution: 26/16 (+8/+3) Intelligence: 14 (+2) Wisdom: 10 (+0) Charisma: 18 (+4) Combat: 10 + 10 = 20PP Initiative: +7 (+4 Improved Initiative, +3 Dex) Attack: +5 Base, +7 Unarmed, +11 Bee-Keeper Armor Attacks Grapple: +27/+8 [w/o Beesuit] Defense: +11 (+5 Base, +6 Dodge Focus), +2 Flat-Footed Knockback: -6/-4 [w/o Protection]/-1 [w/o Beesuit] Saving Throws: 5 + 7 + 8 = 20PP Toughness: +11/+11 [w/o Protection]/+7 [w/o Defensive Roll] (+8/+3 Con, +4 Defensive Roll, +3 Protection) Fortitude: +13/+8 [w/o Beesuit] (+8/+3 Con, +5) Reflex: +10 (+3 Dex, +7) Will: +8 (+0 Wis, +8) Skills: 72R = 18PP Bluff 6 (+10) Craft [Electronic] 8 (+10) SM Craft [Mechanical] 8 (+10) SM Diplomacy 8 (+12) SM Knowledge [Life Sciences] 8 (+10) Knowledge [Pop Culture] 6 (+8) Knowledge [Technology] 8 (+10) Notice 10 (+10) Perform [Dance] 8 (+12) SM Feats: 26PP All-Out Attack Attack Specialization [unarmed] 1 Defensive Roll 2 Dodge Focus 6 Fast Overrun Grappling Finesse Improved Grab Improved Initiative 1 Improved Overrun Improved Throw Improved Trip Interpose Luck 3 Move-By Action Power Attack Precise Shot 2 Skill Mastery 1 (Craft [Electronics], Craft [Mechanical], Diplomacy, Perform [Dance]) Powers: 65PP Device 16 (Bee-Keeper Armor 1.6e; 80PP Container, Flaw: Hard to Lose; Power Feat: Subtle) [65PP] Communication 4 (Radio) {4DP} Comprehend 2 (Speak & Understand Animals; Flaw: Limited [bees]) {1DP} Enhanced Constitution 10 {10DP} Enhanced Feat 3 (Blind-Fight, Ultimate Save [Toughness], Uncanny Dodge [Auditory]) {3DP} BE: Enhanced Strength 18 + Super-Strength 10 (Effective Carrying STR 84; Power Feats: Alternate Power 4, Groundstrike) {43DP} - The Proportionate Strength of a Bee! AP: Blast 11 (Extra: Autofire, Power Feats: Accurate 3, Improved Crititcal 2, Richochet) [39PP] - The Sting of Justice! AP: Nauseate 11 (Extra: Ranged; Power Feats: Accurate 3, Reversible) [37PP] - Toxic Stingers! AP: Snare 11 (Power Feats: Accurate 3, Tether) [26PP] - A Sticky Situation! AP: Strike 11 (Extras: Autofire, Penetrating; Power Feats: Accurate 2, Improved Critical 2, Mighty) [38PP] - A Mighty Beeting! Flight 5 (250 MPH/2,500') {10DP} - Flight of the Bumblebee! Immunity 1 (Bees) {1DP} Protection 3 {3DP} Super-Senses 5 (Darkvision, Direction Sense, Distance Sense, Ultra Hearing) {5DP} 4 + 1 + 10 + 3 + 43 + 10 + 1 + 3 + 5 = 80DP Drawbacks: -4PP Normal Identity (Full-Round Action) [-4PP] DC Block: ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed Touch DC18 Toughness (Staged) Damage (Physical) Unarmed in Suit Touch DC26 Toughness (Staged) Damage (Physical) Strike Touch DC26 Toughness (Staged) Damage (Physical) Blast Ranged DC26 Toughness (Staged) Damage (Energy) Nauseate Ranged DC21 Fortitude (Staged) Sickened/Nauseated/Helpless Snare Ranged DC21 Reflex (Staged) Entangled/Helpless Totals: Abilities (30) + Combat (20) + Saving Throws (20) + Skills (18) + Feats (26) + Powers (65) - Drawbacks (4) = 175/178 Power Points