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Saturday Night Spooks (IC)


rpgronin

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GM

With a well-placed blast, Ironclad strikes the female thug square at the cusp of her shoulder, sending both her and her handgun spiraling to the floor. In a groan of pain and subjugated surrender, the female terrorist appears to be done, albeit conscious as she lays prone, gripping her wound tenderly.

"I... I give up!" she wheezes out between spasms, covering her head with her free hand out of fear of additional blows. Her male counterpart, however, doesn't quite agree.

"You coward!" he shouts, gun still brandished wildly. "I've come too far for what I was promised!"

His words are cut short though as Kid Cthulhu blasts him hard, sending him spiraling along side his cohort, one last attempt to rise back up to continue the good fight ending in ultimate failure as he simply collapses.

With the scuffle over, one of the younger SWAT members promptly cuffs the feminine terrorist, removing her hood to reveal a beleaguered, bag-heavy set of eyes inset into a surprisingly young face. She couldn't be much older than her mid-twenties, but signs of fatigue remain rife on her visage even as she's forced to her feet to be escorted off.

"We've got an injured officer inside. I repeat, injured officer inside." he also barks into his radio, indicating the conclusion of the situation.

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Outside, a wave of relief washes over the couple as they reach the safety of Freedom City's finest, exchanging hugs and tears before a pair of EMT's approach to escort them for their possible injuries.

"Thank you. I just... thank you." the woman says between sobs, giving Cobalt Templar one last thankful glance as she and her partner are escorted to the ambulance. A good deed done, one of the police smiles broadly.

"Boy, you guys sure work fast!" the man in blue apparel exclaims, young and brash. "That's five hostages out in almost no time since you folks started showing up!"

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Cobalt Templar nods to the couple.

"You're welcome. Just trying to do the right thing."

He turned to the officer with a shrug, and then a frown.

"Like I said, just doing my best. But there's more people inside. I'm going back in."

With that, he rockets off at full speed, re-entering through the window he exited. He quickly goes further into the mall proper, trying to spot either the hostages, or other heroes.

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"I believe I can help your friend," The Courier told the officer with a pat on the shoulder.

Hey kneeled down beside the injured SWAT member and they both teleported to the EMT's standing by outside. Within a moment, The Courier returned to the food court.

He went back to the officer with the radio, "If ever you need more of your team to assist us, just inform me and I'll bring them here."

Daniel did his best to look as calm and as relaxed as possible, but while he assisted the officers, all he could think about was: I almost died...I almost died...I almost died!

Indeed, he almost did. He believed the officer who was shot could've been him. Everyone else seemed to have experience in dealing with such situations, but Daniel was new at this.

Still trying to keep his composure, he approached the two costumed heroes.

"Thanks for saving my butt back there," he said reaching out to shake their hands, "I'm The Courier."

"Now these guys look like super heroes. Look at that helm and armor...Impressive! And that mask...It looks so real. He must be a movie-monster buff," he thought to himself.

"Say, nice mask," Daniel said, smiling at the green scaled hero.

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GM

With a poof there and back, The Courier is vanishes and returns in a matter of moments, the man with the radio already looking skeptical as to backup. His superior seems to share this sentiment as he surveys the situation.

"I don't think so." the more grizzled, mature officer says after a moment of contemplation. "We don't know how many more of these guys are running around, or how many more hostages they've got. I don't need my men getting caught up in an even bigger crossfire... especially not if superheroes are getting involved."

Flying back into the building, it isn't long before Corbin reaches the scene proper where no doubt a battle once took place in the Food Court. There's a gaggle of SWAT there discussing something, as well as a trio of masked heroes. Obviously, this is the source of the disturbance. From his loftier perch, he also spies something very peculiar: a thug frantically trying to open an emergency door on the ground floor, but to no avail.

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Cobalt Templar recognizes at least one person here: Kid Cthulu. He tries to keep as formal of a bearing as possible, not wanting to hint at identities or anything, as he starts to land.

"Glad to see everyone's okay here. Where is everyone else, though? Shouldn't there be...Hold that thought."

This was about the time Corbin registered seeing the thug trying to exit the security door. He frowned slightly, then raised his right hand to point at the man. A band of blue, fiery energy raced out, quickly reaching the man and attempting to entangle him in something that vaguely resembled a human hand. Oddly, despite the fire-like appearance of the energy, nothing it touched burned. Corbin attempted to use the hand to grab hold of the thug, hoping to bring him up to the rest of the group and ask him questions.

"Let's see what this one knows."

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GM

It doesn't take much effort to hoist the villainous vagrant aloft from the ground floor, Cobalt Templar bringing the quickly-discovered-to-be-a-woman thug pretty-as-he-pleases up to the Food Court on the second-floor. The madwoman doesn't seem at all enthused to be gripped in a big blue hand of fiery energies, squirming and wriggling and bemoaning her plight even as the young hero pins her in place between Kid Cthulhu, Ironclad, himself, and the three remaining SWAT members.

"Let me go! Let me go!" the still masked and robed woman cries, struggling vainly to liberate herself from Corbin's mystical grasp. "I don't have anything to say to you guys!"

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Ironclad moved away from Kid Cthulhu, ignoring the cries and pleas of the trapped woman and instead knelt down to examine the guns that had been used by the robbers/terrorists/whatever. Her hands worked quickly over the weapons, opening breeches and popping out magazines to check the caliber of ammunition. She wasn't actually all that knowledgeable about firearms, but her suit fed her a constant data-stream, showing her what to push and where to pull to examine the fiddly inside bits.

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GM

A brief examination of the terrorist's weaponry by Ironclad yields startling results. While there's nothing particularly noteworthy about the weapons - likely second-hand from pawnshops anywhere in Freedom City, given their less-than-stellar craftsmanship - it is the ammunition that is of particular interest. The rounds aren't uncommon, or even all that hard to come by all together: they're rubberized.

How peculiar though that armed men and women would load their weapons with non-lethal ammunition. It certainly didn't seem very efficient, nor practical to do so given that had there been a shootout between SWAT and the masked men, Freedom City's finest wouldn't have been in any grievous danger. But what possible reason could they have had to take Ashton Mall hostage with non-lethal ammunition?

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Corbin frowned. Information was good, but they needed to rescue the rest of the hostages!

"I'm going to go try to find the other hostages. We can't let these whackos get away with them."

With that, he took off, attempting to quickly search the mall from the air, keeping his senses alert for a large group, or several groups.

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GM

Dropping the femme fatale off in the loving custody of the trio of SWAT members, Cobalt Templar takes off, scouring the mall for any signs of remaining hostages. There's a few signs here and there: lost shoes, torn necklaces, the occasional hair scrunchy here and there. It's a very easily-followed trail for the blue-armored avenger, and it doesn't take him long to deduce that the trail ends at the same door he'd just so poignantly hoisted the hellion of a woman from only moments prior.

It doesn't take a genius to deduce that the big, mute man and his entourage of crazed gunmen no doubt lead the remaining bulk of the hostages through there!

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Daniel's open palm was left hanging, so instead he raised his hand as if to comb his unseen hair, "Yeah, I guess introductions can be saved 'til later."

He watched as the newcomer clad in blue-obviously a super hero-came and left, dropping off the cloaked woman. He watched as the armored super heroine examined the woman's weapon. He watched too, as the tentacle mouthed hero flew away.

"Off to look for the rest of the crooks, eh?" Daniel pondered whether or not he should follow. But before he could decide, they were gone.

"Yup, I'll just stay here..and uh...hmm..might as well go talk to the perp."

He approached their 'captive' slowly,"So, what brings you here, young woman?"

Daniel couldn't tell if she were young or not, but he wanted to be nice.

"You know you tried to kill me? But it's ok, you were just doing what you were told. How about helping us out and we can call it quits?" The Courier says, tilting his head like a harmless puppy.

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GM

With a tumultuous clang, Cobalt Templar slams his beefy fist doorwards, bending steel and iron as he struck true. The door doesn't quite fly off the hinges, instead simply resulting in a sickening snicker-snack of wood as the center-mass of the entryway crumples before the mighty blow, the emergency door creaking open sheepishly slow. In the handle, what was once an emergency fire axe lies splintered and broken, fragments of wood scattered all over the well-lit emergency exit.

The door leading outwards into the night air - to both Kid Cthulhu's and Cobalt Templar's surprise - is chained shut from the inside. Obviously, the villainous vandals hadn't even considered escaping this way. That leaves the only other alternative, to which a sign painted on the side of the wall points beyond some stairs leading downwards. It simply reads "Maintenance." On the other side of the emergency exit door and obviously coming from down below, the familiar scent of burning incense and candles permeates the air, though it's an odd odor... like an amalgam of cinnamon and burning tires mixed with potpourri. From below, the faint echo of voices can be heard through another large, heavy door at the bottom of the stairwell. It sounded like the crooks - and the hostages! - weren't too far off.

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Back in the Food Court with Ironclad and The Courier, the female criminal whom had surrendered doesn't seem all eager to speak to the masked suit-wearing hero. Her own mask had long since been removed, dreary bags under her eyes a clear sign of lack of sleep ingrained in what might have once been a young and vigor-filled face, brunette locks mismanaged and frizzed-out from lack of care. She couldn't have been older than her mid-twenties at best, but it looked as though she'd aged a lifetime judging solely by her heavy eyes.

"You gonna let me walk?" she asks, halfheartedly expecting a positive response to her inquiry.

"Not a chance." the more experienced SWAT member retorts, sitting her down on the nearby bench Ironclad and her boyfriend once shared.

"Then I've got nothing to say." the robed woman continues as she glares at The Courier, her likewise cohort still squirming and wriggling in the younger officer's grip until she's simply handcuffed to the second-story walkway's railing. "Not like you could stop her anyway."

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Corbin found the path the criminals took odd, to say the least. He blinked in surprise at the scent of incense, then frowned. He turned back to Kid Cthulu, a determined look set on his face, his shoulders held high.

"We need to get down there. There's no telling what they're going to try doing."

With that, he turned and flew down the passage, hoping to quickly come upon the hostages and their captors. And perhaps stop what might be going on...

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"'Her?' Who are you talking about?" The Courier asked the robed woman. "Are you talking about your muscle-bound leader? I could've sworn it was a man under that hood."

"Ah, you must be talking about his wife!" he added, rubbing his chin, "That would make more sense. Or maybe his mother?"

"Whoever she is, she's probably forgotten about you by now. If you help us out, we might be able to bring back that youthful glow to your pretty face," he smiled under his mask.

"So, miss, will you please tell us what you know?"

Daniel has rarely been able to convince a hot girl to give her number, what more a fanatic?

"Yeah right she'll help us out...well, it's still worth a shot," he thought to himself.

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GM

The woman almost cracks a smile as the smooth talking rogue pours on the charm. Almost, were it not for his idiotic assumption to marriage or parental status within the hierarchy of the situation.

"Look, I don't know anything." the crook says, a coy smile rippling across her face. "All I know is everyone calls her 'P.' She promised me... I mean us that she'd help turn us around. Give us... give us some cool cash if we could pull this off, and a little something extra. Nobody was s'posed to get hurt. Once she was done doing whatever-it-was she was gonna do with the hostages, we'd get our cut and then get out of here."

She fidgets slightly at the third-degree, rubbing one knee with the bottom of her foot as her colleague just glares intensely at her from adjacent on the bench where the two remained handcuffed.

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Ironclad nodded to Kid Cthulhu and touched his arm before he flew of, then walked over to the lead SWAT officer. She showed him the partly-dissembled rifle the terrorist had used, along with the magazine. "Officer, there's something odd here." She handed the weapon over and pushed a few rounds into her gauntleted palm. "These weapons only seem to be firing rubber rounds. These people might have been able to kill with these, but that wasn't their intention."

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"Gee, I guess she doesn't know much," The Courier thought.

It's been a while since the two male heroes flew out of sight. Daniel wondered if they found the rest of the hostages by now.

"And, before you go, dear-may I call you dear?-anyway, before you go, do you know where they will be taking the hostages? Will they still be in the mall?" He asked the hooded captive, still trying to be his charming self.

"Am I really this charismatic, or is it just the mask and the suit? I really hope I'm not so ugly that I look better with my face covered," Daniel pondered.

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GM

"They're s'posed to be down in the boiler room." the female culprit explains, her erstwhile companion scrunching her own masked face up in disdain as her colleague spills the beans to the gray-suited fellow. "We spent the last couple of hours prepping it the way 'P' wanted it. Don't know why, and don't really care."

Observing the ammunition in hand, the elderly SWAT leader's eyes affixed themselves to the odd use of non-lethal ammunition in a high-stakes hostage situation. Even as Ironclad looks on at the fellow, she can see the gears in his head turning to try and deduce the purpose behind this; but there's apparently something caught between them as he simply pockets them and looks up at the high-tech woman. He nods in gratitude, and then turns to face his only two remaining, uninjured team members.

"Alright. Jennings, I want you to head down to the entrance and get those doors open. If things get hairy, I want back-up ready to go." he barks before glaring at the pair of still-conscious female terrorists. "Docks, finish securing these criminals, then meet report back to headquarters that heroes are on the scene. Once you're done, meet us down there. I'm going on ahead; need to find the rest of those hostages."

His subordinates set to work as the senior SWAT member heads off towards the scene where Cobalt Templar had so poignantly bashed in the door only moments prior, Jennings dipping downstairs the opposite way and heading towards the northern entrance where the police remained station while Docks began the tedious protocol of cuffing all the incapacitated criminals.

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Flying through the door with a harsh crash, Cobalt Templar and Kid Cthulhu lay witness to a sight most discomforting. The room was no doubt once just a simple housing for Ashton Mall's boiler, its mechanical parts stripped and removed by force and pushed into a nearby corner to make room for a more heinous sight. In the center of the large room sits a circle adorned with various colored candles and runes of an unknown origin, the odor of which is almost pungent enough to make someone gag. There, in the heart of the circle, sit the hostages - now bound and gagged, but still visibly unharmed - as the remaining terrorists garbed in black seem to have followed suit, enthralled and looking not unlike drowning turkeys lost in a sea of confusion. The cause for the poor saps' condition becomes immediately apparent as our heroes lay eyes on an elderly woman with white hair bound up in buns, one of her gnarled, wrinkled hands atop one of the few remaining struggling mooks' face and her lips aflutter with words inaudible. As she finishes her mutterings, the poor fellow whom was once in her grasp simply gurgles in complacency, idly staring upwards towards the dimly lit ceiling where a light fixture once hung without so much as blinking.

"Heroes!" the woman shrieks as she snaps back to the now of reality, a bony finger pointing towards Cobalt Templar and Kid Cthulhu as she locks eyes with them. "They mustn't ruin the ceremony! Stop them!"

The woman's piercing, almost grating voice carries a tone of power and command, and further down the hall leading towards what looks to be a hallway consisting of almost nothing but pipes along the walls comes a large stomping sound, its echo resonating as it picks up in speed at the beck and call of its master through the darkened corridor. In a flash, the burly, meaty man whom had lead the hostages and the remainder of the guerrilla forces down into the boiler room comes charging in, his robes now gone and replaced with what looks to be a traditional, stark-white gi. He's a massive man, oriental features rife on his portly face with fists easily as big as a normal man's head... and he seems to be thoroughly enraged by the presence of interlopers as he moves to stand between them and the busy old bat.

"You shall go no farther, gaijin!" he shouts, parting his legs for balance and balling his fists in defiance. "I have too much at stake for you to interfere! Turn back, and do not dwell on what you have seen lest you become victims!"

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"Wait, let me join you..or better yet, let me take you there," The Courier told the officer before he got the chance to run.

"Tell me more or less where it is, and we could be there without you wasting your breath," he said.

Suddenly he remembered what happened the first time he entered the food court unannounced...and the second time.

"We could jump by the door of the boiler room, study the situation then plan our action," he added, not wanting to make the same mistake again.

The Courier then turned to the green armored woman and gave her his hand. "Your friend is probably already there. Care to join us, Miss..?" Daniel asked her, looking for some kind of name tag or symbol.

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KC blinked once. "Looks like you were raised on homecooked meals, big boy. Time to take a nap." He summoned psychic energy in his head, and poured a torrent of it at the hulking sumo wrestler. This day just kept getting weirder and weirder. He hoped his psychic bolt would be enough, because he'd be out if the guy connected a swing with his jaw.

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Corbin spent several moments examining the escalating situation, before coming to a decision.

"I'll protect the hostages! You work on the sumo reject here!"

He stepped to one side, raising his right hand with a look of concentration on his face...

And a dome of blue, firey light sprung up over the hostages, before it seemed to "harden" into a bright blue construct. It had the appearance of steel, and scattered along the top and the side away from the crazy woman were a series of 1inch holes all the way through.

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The woman in green armor must have been in deep thought because she hadn't noticed the Courier's invitation. She was still examining the weapons when the Courier pat her shoulder. The more time they spent there, the greater the chances of losing the hostages.

"Sorry about this, miss," Daniel said as he vanished with the SWAT officer and the armored woman.

Based on the direction and the description of the boiler room, The Courier teleported the trio by it's entrance where the two male heroes previously crashed through.

What Daniel saw when he got there confused him. It was like a scene from a wacky cartoon.

Zombified hoods, an old hag and a muscled sumo wrestler. Then there was that blue dome covering the hostages.

One thing that wasn't like a cartoon was the overall dread of the situation. Daniel had no idea what was going on.

"I've got to get them out of here!" The Courier said, preparing his next move.

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