SpicyWaffle
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All things considered, Baxter was feeling quite proud of himself for how far he'd come alongside all the science-type people and their techno-babbling ways. Decked a bunch of robots, laid out a lady trying to kung-fu him in the face, severely damaged the multi-armed brute who'd dared to challenge him in unarmed combat... really, things were going pretty great! He wasn't sure exactly what Ironclad was up to, but he trusted her -- indeed, the lot of them seemed pretty competent, Dragonfly and Fenris raining blows from above. They were going to win; it was practically in the bag! "Aaaargh!" ... Riiiiight up until the poor, disillusioned Bee-Keeper took a solid blow from the odd floating automaton. With a painful wince and a phenomenal wave of torment washing over him, the yellow-and-gold hero crumpled to his knees, hands instinctively rocketing up to his noggin even as his body screamed in agony in some vain attempt to silence the obnoxious throbbing. It was like the pounding aches were in stereo; he couldn't think or move, the only option his body providing him with being to sink to the ground, clearly in more than just winged by the last psychic emanation of the now defunct robotic psion. Whatever the robot had done, it had clearly proven more than effective in the wake of all the physical punishment the Hero of the Hive had taken beforehand!
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Bee-Keeper III's Toughness Save +10 vs. DC25: 1d20+11 → [10,11] = (21) I rolled it as +11 because I forgot BK3 was Bruised x1, so -1 from the result for +20, which would be Bruised and Dazed. He actually gets no action this round. Not gonna spend an HP because DRAMATIC! EDIT: Because I feel like I worded that funny, Bee-Keeper is now "Bruised x2 + Dazed." Just, y'know, to help keep track of stuff!
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ic This Was A Triumph [Inside] (IC)
SpicyWaffle replied to Avenger Assembled's topic in The Realms Beyond
Jostled from the trip down the proverbial rabbit hole, the young would-be hero that was the Bee-Keeper was looking a little wobbly even as he tried in vain to shield his eyes from the blindingly bright light of the interior. It was like those annoying fade-to-white scenes in videogames that always hurt his eyes, only this time cranked up to eleven. But through the searing bright lights, the armored teenager could make out things -- some monitors, the distant throne and its resident, and... something else. And when that something else spoke, Baxter was struck dumb. It was Doctor Stratos! He was alive! "Zztratozz?" the Bee-Keeper inquired, voice an odd amalgam of surprise, disbelief and telltale joy; the latter an odd enough sensation in regards to a known villain as the weight of his fate rolled off of his already heavy shoulders. "I thought you were... but I thought you got carried away with that other Freedom Zzity! How did you get up here?" -
Buzzing along like a storm unleashed as the hail of gunfire bounced harmlessly off of the Bee-Keeper's metallic carapace, Baxter as far too busy gritting his teeth at Sky-Lord's escaping auto-gyro to come up with a witty one-liner. He was mad -- perhaps, one might even say, down-right vengeful! While he hadn't thought Sky-Lord a man willing to turn over a new leaf, Baxter had quietly hoped that he was a man who wasn't willing to risk more of his people against Negator, or seek some sort of retribution against him for his uncontrolled outburst. Apparently, the man had learned nothing since his attack on Dawes Tech. No way Sky-Lord was making off with Mike! Not on the Bee-Keeper's life! Ironclad was already busy ripping out the guts of the 'copter in her endeavor to liberate the absconding Mister Cunningham, but they needed something; an ace in the hole. That's when the Bee-Keeper remembered in what felt like forever that he actually had something other than a giant metal glove that shot lasers! Taking up a position above Sky-Lord, his flying contraption, and Jessica as she maneuvered to free the morally-returned Negator, Baxter looked to solve a practical problem with a practical solution, banking not only on Ironclad's superior strength to hold the beastly mechanism aloft, but on his own as well -- at least, presuming he could catch it in time if things went south! Stretching his other armed gauntlet out, the yellow-and-gold avenger let loose a spray of what looked like synthetic honey; aiming not for the man behind the yoke but the propeller itself! This was either an incredibly clever idea, or an immensely stupid one. Time would only tell!
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Move Action: Get in range of Sky-Lord's Auto-Gyro if Bee-Keeper isn't already. Standard Action: Snare 11 vs. the Auto-Gyro. If that's not possible, then Sky-Lord. 1d20+11 → [4,11] = (15); probably a giant whiff. Spending a Hero Point to re-roll. -- 1d20+11 → [19,11] = (30); Blam!
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From their position near the hub of the Curator's control, the teenaged hero locked in the tin suit could only sit in deathly silence as the Lor revealed their plan: to travel right into the heart of the Curator's ringworld in an endeavor to reboot its systems, lest they be destroyed by an encroaching fleet of less savory Pseudos. They needed to act quickly, and in the long, awkward uncertainty that seemed to follow with the unveiling of their plan, all Baxter could do was look out at the massive structure and heave a heavy sigh. He wasn't sure what all that techno-babble about Computronium and internal energy sources, but one thing was sure: someone was going to have to get in there. As much as he wanted to go home -- as much as he wanted to leave everything here behind -- he still felt strangely compelled to risk life and limb for the trillions of lives still trapped down there below, victims on a crash course with destiny. "I'll go," he said, as calm and plain-as-day as the boy could muster as he stepped forward heavily to stand beside Samran. "I can't leave thozze people down there. And if thezze Grue are on their way, it'zz probably now or never if we're gonna do zzomething about em'. Zzo, yeah, I'm with you, crazzy azz all of thizz zztuff zzoundzz."
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"Alright! Zzpill it! Where'zz th--" began the Bee-Keeper, his inquisition sure to be swift and merciless... or it would have been, had a many-armed robot-thingy not suddenly sauntered over and started trying to clock him in the face a billion times! Catching just a glimpse of the multi-limbed monstrosity, Baxter was barraged by a flurry of blows, fists held up over his face as the rain of attacks pelted the armored frame of his armor. While most of the strikes were repelled harmlessly either through sheer pluck on Baxter's part of the armor he wore, one or two found their mark as a wave of pain rocketed through the young teenager's chest and abdomen. Shaking the cobwebs from his head as the ringing subsided, the Bee-Keeper turned to face his new opponent with grit teeth and a serious demeanor as he clenched his fists in eager retribution! "All right! You guyzz wanna do it like that? Fine! Guezz I'll juzzt have to beeat the anzzwerzz outta you!" he yelled. Whirling around on his heel like a man possessed, the Bee-Keeper struck out against the purple-haired woman who'd so brazenly tried to ambush, socking her again with devastating force! Unrelenting in his assault, the Bee-Keeper wasn't done as he took hold of the armored female soldier in a vice-like grip and without missing a beat, hucked her like some sort of discus straight at the metal monstrosity attempting to beat him to a pulp! With a telltale thud, the impromptu weapon hit home, much to Baxter's delight as a small grin creased its way up his face at the sight of his success. "Nobody ever wantzz to juzzt do it the eazzy way. If you guyzz would juzzt tell uzz where the death-lazzer izz, we could zztop punching you in the fazze."
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Bee-Keeper III Toughness Save +11 vs. DC23: 1d20+11 → [11,11] = (22); Bruised! -- Oh. So close. But I guess a Bruise is better than the alternative! Hum hum hum... okay; Standard Action: Bee-Keeper III's Strike +11 vs. Empousa -- 1d20+11 → [10,11] = (21); If Hit, DC26 Toughness Save & Free Grapple Check +24! Free Action if Empousa is Hit: Grapple +24 vs. Empousa -- 1d20+24 → [12,24] = (36); If Hit, Grappled! Move Action if Empousa is Grappled: Chuck Emousa into Hekatoncheire like a bawss -- 1d20+11 → [17,11] = (28); if Hekatoncheire is hit, I think they both need a DC26 Toughness Save (Bee-Keeper III's Unarmed Damage +11 + 15 Base).
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Awash with relief, the Bee-Keeper was glad that this whole deal was slowly but surely being put to rest. With Negator in his cylindrical prison and the absolution of the eerie portal to the Counter-Verse sealed behind them, it seemed like everything was easily falling into place for once. All they had to do now was escort Mike back to Blackstone in hopes of finding him some treatment, and then the search would be on for the Sky-Lord. Or it would have been, if Sky-Lord hadn't come flitting out of the sky in his auto-gyro at the last moment, snatching he and Ironclad's victory right out from in front of them! "Hey! Zztop!!" barked the Bee-Keeper, unsurprised yet nonetheless angered by the traitorous actions of the militant mastermind fading into the distance atop his steel whirligig. That Negator... he seemed incredibly unstable. He was like a ticking time-bomb, only kept in-check by the makeshift prison the Sky-Lord had provided. But to what nefarious end was he dragging poor Mike to now? "We've gotta zztop him beefore he getzz away! We promizzed Mike we'd help!" the Bee-Keeper buzzed as he whirled to face Ironclad, fists clenched in both ire and determination in capturing their original foe. Without even waiting for a response, metal wings unhinged themselves with a sharp shwick of rushing air, and in no time the yellow-and-black apiary avenger was airborne, giving chase to the man in the mechanical marvel who'd so brazenly assisted them and then swiped their attendee away. No way was Baxter going to let that stand; especially after he promised he'd get the man once known as Negator assistance!
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Racing down the hallway as fast as he could without having a face-to-wall meeting with the interior, the Bee-Keeper was mad-intent on finding this mysterious woman bedecked, whipping his way through the opening like a man possessed. As ready as he was for some answers, however, he almost wasn't ready for the ambush around the corner as the armor-sporting woman sprung her ambush, Baxter's eyes going wide first at the sight of the multi-limbed assailant, and then as purple-haired martial artist's fist narrowly missed his helmet by mere inches. Were it not for the last second duck and furling of wings, indeed, the Bee-Keeper III might have earnestly had his block knocked off; but instead, the tables had turned as they presented him with a golden opportunity to subdue his opponent before she got any further! Hitting the ground with a palpable grinding of metal against concrete, the only rudimentary trained boy spun on his heel, aligning himself square with the female antagonist who'd so boldly tried to flee the scene with a harsh cross to her face! No way he was going to let her take a swing without giving one in return!
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Here're Bee-Keeper III's rolls if the Not!Major is ambushing him via an attack of some kind: Toughness Save +11 vs. DC??: 1d20+11 → [17,11] = (28) Provided he survived that (or if Not!Major even attacks), he'll continue on: Move Action: Move until he's in melee range of Not!Major. Standard Action: Strike 10 +11 vs. Not!Major: 1d20+11 → [1,11] = (12) --Spending 1HP (3 Remaining now) to re-roll: 1d20+11 → [3,11] = (14), Minimum 10 for 21. Free Action if Hit: Grapple Check +24 vs. Not!Major = 1d20+24 → [2,24] = (26); Blurgh...
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Bee-Keeper's gonna chase, chase, chase the Not!Major down the ominous underground tunnel!~
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Between the screaming of tempered steel as Ironclad worked her mechanical mojo and the screaming of metal being torn asunder down the corridor the mysterious woman had run down, the Bee-Keeper's agitation almost seemed to boil over as he served as the impromptu bodyguard in silent agreement to Jessica's plan. But as soon as his much more intelligent counterpart had finished her deed, Baxter was all too ready to begin this new round of Clue in pursuit of the eloping purple-clad woman and find the missing super-weapon. Wings once more beating with great rapidity, the Bee-Keeper set himself on the path down the tunnel after the escaping suspect along with Ironclad, tapping his helmet lightly to bring up the communications channel the serendipitous league of armored heroes had been sharing. "Yo! We zzabotaged one of their railcarzz, and think we found one of thozze zzuppozzed zzuperzz you mentioned, 'Fly. There'zz zzome purple-haired woman running through one of the tunnelzz," Bee-Keeper explained, unsure exactly where the tunnel lead as he barreled down it as fast he could muster in hot pursuit. "Don't know where zzhe came from, but zhe'zz decked out in zzome kind of armor. Me and Ironclad are chazzing after her now."
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Nodding approvingly at the prospect of everything falling into place, Baxter continued to beam with whatever passed for robotic pride. His body language, however, quickly turned south as Fleur mentioned that several of his colleagues had been captured by the League! "W... what?" he murmured, cocking his head quizzically. While he was fortuitous enough to have been rescued, the thought of his allies in chains sent a chill down the android's spine. Almost instinctively, a gauntlet-clad hand rocketed up towards the insectile helmet, and the Bee-Keeper turned away from Fleur. He stood there for a few moments in utter silence, occasionally giving his helmet a soft tap or pacing lightly in place before he turned back to face her. A slight sigh escaped the modulated voice the Hero of the Hive, his attitude clearly soured in the wake of the truth as it hit him like a sack full of bricks. "No, no, no!!" he barked. "No, wait! It'zz zztill cool. There'zz zztill the..." he began, tapping his helmet again. It didn't take a psychologist to see the signs that followed: the armored assassin's body tensing, then suddenly slumping as if a great blow had been struck; like the gravitas of some unknown situation having socked him square in the gut. With a pained, almost saddened twitch, the Bee-Keeper looked to Fleur de Joie -- his friend, his confidant, and his role-model -- with palpable hurt exuding from his falsified being. It was almost as if he'd begun to piece together the facade and discern some kernel of truth from within the lies, wounded as the realization set in... Then the robotic doppelganger of the Bee-Keeper exploded. A caustic, violent eruption of fire and sparks shot out of his very humanoid frame as whatever was once an otherworldly impostor immediately slumped to the ground of the not-quite-a-cavern floor. For but a moment spasms rocked the android, but then it grew quiet and still; now nothing more than a smoldering remnant on the cusp of revealing what might have been some important truth.
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The ride down to the underground warehouse wasn't all bad, killer robots not withstanding. Even with Ironclad's warning reprisal, the yellow-and-black apiary adventurer was glad she'd caught up. They made a good team, he and Jessica -- it was hard to explain why, but Baxter felt like the two just meshed well, and it was this simple complimentary nature that helped steel his nerves as the cargo bay doors swung open as the elevator reached its final destination. Sure, it was a rough landing, what with the cables having been cut by mysterious means, but hey, at least they were here! "Geezz..." murmured the Bee-Keeper as he strode out, looking back at the elevator with a look of earnest shock that those robots would go so far. "You think they're upzzet about uzz beeing down here?" Returning his attention to the newfound cargo hold, the Bee-Keeper was rather let down that there wasn't a literal giant death-laser sitting inside; instead, there were just more drones, a bunch of tunnels, and an empty truck! That super-weapon had to be around here somewhere; but that 'somewhere' was very clearly not here! That's when Baxter spied something down one of the tunnels: was that... was that a woman in armor? "Hey!" he shouted just as the mysterious woman began to dart down the tunnel and out of sight. Whoever she was, she might know where these stolen tech parts were! Gritting his teeth, the Bee-Keeper debated his options. On the one hand, there were oodles of drones and automated forklifts bandying around; their purpose obviously important, and might prove problematic later if not dealt with. On the other hand, that weird purple-haired chick was getting away! Turning to Jessica, the Bee-Keeper readied a closed fist over an open palm. "Yo. Rock, paper, zzcizzorzz to zzee who chazzezz the lady in the body armor?"
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Hum. After some thought, I think Bee-Keeper'll wait for Ironclad's input on the situation. He'll ready a Move Action to chase her via his Flight 5 if she wants him to go after her, and a Standard Action to hit the truck with his Blast 10 should Jessica instead go after the Not!Major.
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Blushing secretly for the praise -- however ill-deserved it might have been -- the Bee-Keeper shuffled slightly in place as he tried to contain his well-mimicked, energetic disposition whilst encased in his beloved and highly dangerous suit of armor. While it might not have been his plan, per se, the android impersonator liked to think himself quite capable, and a keystone in the well-orchestrated coup against Freedom City's villainous cads. Besides, Fleur seemed on the level. Letting her in a little wouldn't hurt; and she'd be all the more prepared to strike with him when the right time presented itself. "Well, when you put it like that..." he glowed, smiling manically behind the helmet. Clearly, Fleur de Joie was a more clever cookie than he'd thought; and he'd already thought she was pretty clever to begin with! "There were a few of uzz in on it, yeah, juzzt waitin' for the zzignal to get down to buzzinezz. The real heavy-hitterzz; folkzz who could get zztuff done! Let'zz zzee... there'zz me and Quickzztep, totezz out there mezzin' up the mobzzterzz and gangzzterzz. Harrier wazz zzuppozzed to wipe Blackzztone clean. Then there wazz Jill, Wander and Blue Jay.... they'd take care of the high-profile guyzz. There'zz a couple more out there, but man, it'd take FOREVER to tell you everyone who'zz in on thizz zzhendig!" It was almost as if the faux Bee-Keeper was flaunting their supposed success, quite pleased with what they'd done in reducing the rate of crime thus far through force of arms and their planned coup d'etat. "We knew we had to be thorough, y'know? A totally clean zzlate! We knew we'd have to wipe out azz much of the filth in Freedom Zzity as we could. Not juzzt criminalzz; but potential criminalzz. T-Babiezz and thozze zztained with Terminuzz zztuff, too; y'know, the onezz who pozze the biggezzt rizzk to making a mezz of what we're trying to do. That way when we're all done, it'll be zzuper-eazzy to keep Freedom Zzity nizze and zzafe for everyone elzze, and we can overzzee who'll bee allowed to zztay -- of courzze, we'll need zzomeone to lead..." At that last bit, the Bee-Keeper seemed to trail off a bit as he stared on at Fleur. He shrugged, then continued. "It wazz pretty tricky getting everyone on the zzame page at firzzt. But, hey, now that we're all here, it'll be eazzy-peazzy, and everything zzeemzz zzo clear. I'm zzure we'll get zzome back-up zzoon, then we can really take it to thozze evil-doerzz! And with your help, Fleur, maybee we can zzhow the world how to bee juzzt like Freedom Zzity onzze we're all zzet!"
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"Hmm..." buzzed the mechanical robot behind the battlesuit, pacing slightly against the green floor beneath his heavy feet as he pondered his response. "Not zzure. I hadn't been lizztening to the newzz and zztuff. Y'know, too buzzy delivering the Zzting of Juzztizze," he mused. A metallic finger came up to his chin, tapping it soundly as he pondered who could help them in their just cause. "Not zzure. But if we could find zzome more heroezz, we could totezz reform FORZZE OPZZ! Or zzomething. Man, I don't know," the Bee-Keeper groaned, struggling to come up with someone from the duo's dwindling list of allies. Suddenly, the Anti-Hero of the Hive seemed to perk up, a hefty fist smacking itself against his other awaiting palm. "Oh, hey! What about Cobalt Templar?" suggested the dastardly robot with some measure of glee. "We fought zzome ninjazz onzze. Zzeemed like a pretty cool dude." He paused for a moment, as if in thought, before brimming again. "Oh! Oh! Wait! I do know zzome folkzz! Zzee, like, a week ago, me, Ironclad, Dragonfly, and Fenrizz totally wrecked houzze on thezze jerkzz who were zztealing their tech. They've got zzome zzeriouzz firepower, and pretty zzweet connectionzz, too, from what I could guezz. I know Ironclad, zzo I could probably convinzze her, at leazzt!" the Robo!Bee-Keeper exclaimed with some measure of pride, folding his arms as he collected himself. "Between uzz and their zzientific zzurpluzz, we could make zzome zzeriouzz progrezz againzzt the criminalzz zztill roaming free out there in the zztreetzz!"
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Spat back out of the pocket dimension, the Bee-Keeper wasn't looking any worse for wear -- well, not really, save perhaps for a few scrapes across the painted shell of the armor and a discernible sense of lethargy from the lengthy interlude from his damnable cause. Indeed, as the robotic duplicate stretched and took in the faux cavern, he still seemed wholly unaware of exactly what sort of predicament he'd been thrust into. "Nah, zz'all good, Fleur," he groaned lightly, his stance relaxed and calm despite the odd lack of civilization surrounding him. "Juzzt a few bruizzezz from thozze chumpzz I blazzted, but I think I'll live. Hey, could have been a lot worzze if you hadn't zzhowed up to get me outta there. Even I can't take the whole League by myzzelf!" he laughed, though that laughter soon grew into a sigh reminiscent of being hurt. The robotic imitator's body language almost made him look sad as he turned to face Fleur de Joie, his greatest and kindest ally in this whole mess. "I juzzt wizzh they underzztood, y'know? It'zz hard work keeping Freedom Zzity zzafe, zzo you'd think they'd get it. Oh, well. Maybee they'll get the mezzage onzze they zzee what it'zz like not to have any crime left to fight!"
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The Bee-Keeper III (31) (8) (4) (6) (4) (4) (2) (3)
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"Whoa, whoa, WHOA!" shouted the Bee-Keeper suddenly, palms upraised defiantly towards the Lor unwilling to do something about these trillions of lives at stake. Whatever flicker of confidence Baxter had been sporting a few moments ago seemingly erupted into a full-on inferno, eyes narrowing against the intergalactic mentalists. He'd already potentially doomed the captured Doctor Stratos as the Freedom City he'd been stationed on was ripped away, but this was a whole other kettle of fish plus a large side of drama-fries. "We can't juzzt leave them here!" demanded the armored angsty teenager turned peoples' advocate. The placid face etched into the Bee-Keeper's helmet might have been an unflinching epitome of insectile indifference, but it didn't take any sort of imagination to envision the look the dark-skinned boy had ingrained on his face; teeth barred and brow furled, looking more akin to a wild animal backed into a corner. "If you can't do zzomething, then let uzz! We're not part of your parzzect-whateverzz! There hazz to be zzome way we can take control of the Curator'zz zztuff and zzave thezze people, right? Zzome kind of way to reboot the Curator'zz zzyzztemzz?"
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Having beaten these Lor militants to the punch, the Bee-Keeper remained hunkered down behind the much more physically imposing form of Harrier and his impromptu camouflage, doing his best not to squirm too much lest he give himself away. Whoever these Lor people were, Harrier didn't seem to know whether they were friend or foe by their foreign dialogue -- but for Baxter, the sight of the blaster rifles slung over their shoulders certainly gave the armored teen due pause. At least they didn't seem to know where the odd gaggle of displaced superheroes were; huddled in and around the docking bay they'd arrived in like frightened field mice hiding from some potential predator. The problem for the Bee-Keeper wasn't hiding, so much as it was being so close -- so very, very close! -- to what might be their best escape route away from the Curator's ringworld. There he sat, crouched behind the former Omegadrone for cover as he watched the space-suit wearing soldiers, biting his lip impatiently until the faint taste of blood touched upon the tip of his tongue. They weren't getting anywhere just sitting here, looking on like cheap voyeurs. They needed to find out where these Lor guys stood; and it didn't seem likely that they'd be doing much sneaking around between two heavily-armored heroes anyway. Looks like it was the direct approach or bust. "Alright. Alright... uh..." the Bee-Keeper whispered through the commlink, collecting himself as he looked on through the illusion of terrain Steve's pike was casting towards the armed space-troopers. "You guyzz juzzt zzit tight. I'm gonna do zzomething really, really zztupid." Taking a deep breath, Baxter rose up to his full if not modest height as he stepped out from behind Harrier, his stomach a mess of tensed muscles and uneasy queasiness even as he strode out into the openness of the Curator's hangar bay. This was probably a terrible idea, and Baxter almost immediately regretted stepping out into the line of sight of the figures whom had breached the sanctity of the Curator's inner sanctum. But, hey, at least this way the rest of the ragtag bunch of would-be heroes remained safely concealed -- besides, someone was going to have to say something eventually. Might as well be him, what with his tin can suit of armor, to go out and gamble on whether or not these intergalactic interlopers spoke English. "Yo!" he greeted the entourage of Lor, modulated voice weary from hours of trekking through the massive base as he waved with a lone hand towards the heavily armed soldiers whilst still trying to remain a seemingly nonthreatening target, silently praying they understood not only his words but his nonviolent intentions. The last thing he needed today was to get shot full of holes over some stupid miscommunication! "I... uh... I don't zzuppozze you guyzz would happen to have a zzhip that can get back to Earth, wouldja?"
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How Erin and Jill could crack wise at how sucktacular space was, Baxter couldn't comprehend; nor did he feel particularly inclined to care. All he was interested in was Wander's plan to get back to the ship before these new interlopers finally cut their way in. If they happened to be friendly, then hey, bonus points for being lucky! If they weren't... well, the whole 'ten-thousand-to-one' thing wasn't sitting too well in the Bee-Keeper's mind, his face already devolving into a fervent grimace at the prospect of having to fight their way aboard a foreign vessel that might or might not get them back home where they belonged. It also seemed like he didn't have a choice in the matter. It was fight or flight, and Baxter? Baxter was going to get home, a discernible degree of confidence returning to the armored teenager's voice as he slammed a gauntlet-clad fist into an awaiting palm, shoulders rising from their slumped position as his still sore muscles tensed at the fortuitous prospect. "Zzpazze piratezz, zzpazze alienzz, giant zzpazze hamzzterzz... whatever, man! Ten-thouzzand or ten-million -- I'm ready. Whoever thezze people are or whatever they're doing here, I'm not going to pazz up a chanzze for a free ride back home!" Turning to Dorothy, the Bee-Keeper gave the equally young teleporter as much of a reassuring nod as he could muster in a vain attempt to mimic Jill's impromptu pep-talk hours earlier, sans smacking Quickstep right upside her noggin. "C'mon. It'zz time for uzz get outta here."
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Bee-Keeper III's Initiative +6: 1d20+6 → [7,6] = (13) Baxter usually has 4 Starting Hero Points (1 Base + Luck 3). While his ditching of class might constitute a Hero Point, I don't think he's in any sort of hurry right now to get back, so it's probably not worth a Hero Point in and of itself. 4 HP is probably plenty anyway. Gonna hold off on an action till' everyone has their initiatives up :)
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Biting his lip at the horrific sight of Negator inflicting bodily harm against himself, the Bee-Keeper grew deathly silent as the man known as Michael Cunningham reemerged from the shattered remnants of his fractured mind. The poor man was bleeding profusely from his head, and his weary, concerned response made it clear that at least for the moment he was in control of his senses. Despite that breakthrough, though, there wasn't a lot of time with that head-sized hole hanging above the scene -- Baxter and Jessica needed to get this situation under control, especially if the remaining Negator clones were still running amok. "Yeah," Baxter began, walking closer towards the mentally displaced victim and lowering his own armaments and giving the newly liberated Mike a chance to regain his senses. "Lizzten, Mike: thingzz are bad. There're a bunch of you - a bunch of Negatorzz - runnin' around all over the plazze, making a mezz of thingzz while you've been working on thizz hole into the Contra-Verzze," explained the Bee-Keeper, motioning towards the ominous tear hanging above them. "We talked to Zzky-Lord, and we think we can help you - me and Ironclad, I mean. But beefore we can, we need you to help uzz. We brought thizz container thing; it can keep you in-check and zztop the other Negatorzz while we get you to a doctor..." The Bee-Keeper paused for a moment, turning to the pretty scientist hidden behind the layers of protective armor for a moment as an equally pressing thought entered his mind. "... but I don't know if getting you in there'll zztop thizz rift to the Counter-Verzze. I have, like, no idea how to clozze it down. But you're an expert on thizz, Mike -- you know how. Unlezz you're totally zzure zzhutting your powerzz down izz going to put a zztop to it, we need you to clozze it beefore it zztartzz infecting the zzity. We can't rizzk juzzt leaving it here, y'know?"