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Hero TV! (IC)


Quinn

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January 24th, 2011.

Weather: Clear, some clouds.

Time: 10:00 AM.

Repairs and clean-ups were nearly complete at the Global Broadcasting Network building. After Doc Otaku's shenanigans, the employees were finally getting back into a sense of normalcy, going about their daily buisness of bringing quality television to the people, good news, exciting shows...it was good to be back on the air.

The final lineup of today's broadcast had just been slotted in, and the countdown was beginning. Just a few minutes, and the first news show of the day would be starting. Latest headlines were that of a tussle downtown with some intergalactic biker gangs, a recent soiree held by the wealthy Felix Fassbinder, not to mention the most obvious story of their own recent hijacking.

"On the air in five, people!"

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Ignacio Soto adjusted his tie and gazed about the empty lot of Crazy Orlando's Used Cars. The enchanted mask that gives him his power was a comforting warmth tucked into the front of his button shirt. Without the mask on Ignacio is much less impressive, a bit pudgy, his hair thinning. As no one appeared interested in buying a car at just that moment Ignacio flipped on the small television in the corner of the room and turned on the news. "I wonder if they will talk about last night's heroics?" He chuckled, "I hope they get my name right."

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"...And that's it for the weather." Their on-site reporter was saying a few moments after the broadcast had begun, "Now back to you, Bob."

"Thanks, Jim. And let me just say that we are all so happy to be back at work after last week's terrible fiasco. For those of you that don't know, our entire station was taken hostage! ..."

The anchor was interrupted by a loud bang. The door to the recording studio had just been relieved of it's hinges. It sailed through the room and passed the cameras, right in front of the anchor. "Good thing, too! That means you should already know this drill. DOWN ON THE FLOOR, @#$%STAINS!" One of the cameras panned towards the door to reveal Captain Knievel. He stood proud, and brilliantly shiny, in perfect form, with perfect muscles, beaming at the collective GBN employees. "Except for you." He pointed right at the camera. "You get to film this." Knievel crossed the room, and stood before the anchor, who had been too busy being terrified to get down on his knees. Captain Knievel simply shook his head, and sucker punched the man straight in the jaw. He flew backward, and slammed into the wall. Then crumpled to the floor beneath it.

"So! Freedom City!" Captain Knievel gave a huge smile, his teeth reflected the stage lighting with an almost audible SHEEN. "What's up, @#$%ers? I'M BACK!"

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The tour guide seemed to be quite a bit annoyed. Etain didn't see the reason why, she had said to ask any questions if it was releavant to the subject. Though maybe it was unwise for her to ask if the tour guide was so used to speaking that why she wasn't one of the preformers on the camera. It was than that Ms. Cynthia advised Etain to stay quiet for the rest of the tour. Shrugging quietly she pondered the place she was touring for a little while. She had seen shows on tv, and news reports but she didn't imagine that there was so much stuff involved in just having a place where people just talk about things. It seemed a bit over the top, but it was not like she could do anything similiar, a machine like a camera could not capture what she could do with magic.

With this thought she lagged a bit behind the group bringing up the back with her guardian who kept pace.

"Are you bored Etain?"

She glanced up and quickly smile,

"Not at all, I am glad that you took time to bring me here so I may better understand this realm. It is just stra..."

She was cut off by a loud banging that came from a cooridor the tour had passed. Quickly running to turn the corner, both Etain and Ms. Cynthia saw a torn up door frame and could clearly the demands of what was most likely the pepetrator. Etain took about two seconds before picking up her skirt and trying to start down to the door before she was caught by the shoulder by Ms. Cynthia,

"Where do you think you're going?"

She looked over at her guardian,

"I can help, I do not get all of it, but that person seems to be messing with all the work the station put into this place."

Cynthia looked at Etain with hard eyes for a few seconds, than let out a sigh,

"I am not going to be able to stop you,"

Etain shook her head,

"People in masks, they do the same all over."

Cynthia sighed again,

"Well than at least wear the party mask you told me about. You have it right, also don't give anyone your real name while you wear it, it would be troublesome to me and Franklin."

Etain smiled as she fished into her purse for it and put it on her face. Her long and layered dress was changed from dark blue to orange, and the mask grew from a domino to a masquerade in the shape of a monarch butterfly with matching wings sprouting from her back,

"I will soon return."

Etain started down the hallway picking up her skirt as she headed towards the door. Cynthia held her forehead in her hand,

Oh foolish, kind daughter of mine.

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As Ignacio saw the face of Captain Knievel on the news he grasped at his mask through his shirt. He pulled out his cell phone and rapidly punched in the number for his old friend and boss, Orlando. "Orlando, yeah Hi it's me. No nothing is wrong with the dealership. I just got a call from Maria, she says Paco is at the nurses office and I need to go pick him up. Yeah I'm sorry about this but it really can't wait. I'm taking my lunch break." Orlando's reply was inconsequential, consisting of general well wishes and agreement. In a flurry of motion Ignacio changed the sign on the door to closed and locked it, then headed around the back of the building.

He stopped and pulled off his buttoned shirt, slacks, tie socks, and shoes, which left him in only the stretchy green tights. He slipped the mask over his head and as always it seemed loose for just a moment before his body rippled and grew, muscles upon muscles, his bones creaked as they grew several inches in length and nearly doubled in thickness. "Arriba, Arriba y lejas! El Sapo returns!" He shouted as the elation of transformation overcame him, then looked around sheepishly in hopes no one was around to hear him. El Sapo walked away from the building, braced himself with his feet spread in a powerful stance, and then shot into the air in a powerful leap, bounding across the rooftops on his way to the broadcast station.

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Waiting for things to pick up in a hospital was always dull. It was a couple hours before he was scheduled to do anything, and an emergency page was unlikely. Greg found himself in one of the staff lounges, watching the news. He could go work on his pet projects, the All-Nighter was coming along, but none of them were really work friendly. He needed his lab at home all of them, and he might be needed here. So he watched the news. "The next couple of hours are going to bore me to death."

So! Freedom City! What's up, @#$%ers? I'M BACK!

I just had to say it. Greg fiddled with the little blue Titan spray in his coat pocket has he rolled his way to the doors.

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"So! Freedom City! Long time no see." Captain Knievel folded his hands on the desk as he sat where the anchor would sit. "Now here I am, putting myself on live television, and no one is here to stop me from taking over the airwaves. Hmmm... It's been all of thirty seconds. You're slacking, Freedom."

"Don't tell me I have to mention the fact that I've got hostages..." Captain Knievel quickly lashed out with his right arm. The metalic device strapped to his forearm produced a gout of flame over fifteen feet long. Somewhere from off camera someone screamed. "Woops. Silly me. They tell me you're not supposed to barbecue your bargaining chips. Though, I can't say I agreed with that toupee at all." The image of Captain Knievel on screen began to shake, somewhat violently. "Hey!" Knievel pointed toward the camera, "Yea you. Hold that @#$%ing camera still before I come over there and beat you!" The camera suddenly shot towards the ceiling. "Jesus. He fainted. For Gods sake will someone please get on that camera before I have to burn this ENTIRE @#$%ING BUILDING DOWN?!" Within seconds, the camera was back on Knievel.

"Sorry," He smiled, and his teeth glowed, "Technical difficulties." Knievel stood up behind the anchor desk. "Right here's the deal." He grabbed the large desk, lifted it above his head, and threw it to the side. There was more off camera screaming, and some crashing this time as well. "The first few heroes through that door-" He pointed, "Ahem! Point the damn camera you idiot!" The camera pointed. It now showed the door Knievel had broken down to get in. "-or that hole in the wall, which I just conveniently made-" The camera panned past Knievel who was pointing in the opposite direction. The hole he had mentioned was there, and it was vaguely desk shaped. "get a prize." The camera began turning back towards Knievel. When it stopped rotating, his face could be seen, and only his face. He'd apparently gotten much closer to the camera. It began shaking once more, and he seized the lens to steady it. "ME!"

Knievel spun the camera. It now showed the back of the room. Several of the employees cowered at the back of the room. The one that had been holding the camera stumbled backward. Knievel rounded the camera and strolled towards him. He punted the man like an overly large football and he went sailing toward the back of the room. "When I say hold it still, I mean hold it @#$%ing still!" Knievel rounded on the camera again, "And if you don't come, that's going to keep happening. Oh, yea. And I'll also broadcast my anti-mutant mind control rays. Or whatever it is they put on this memory card," Knievel held up a flash drive for the camera to see, "But between you and me, I don't really care too much about that. I just love htis job!" He began laughing heartily, then wound up, and punched the camera.

The feed went dead.

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Luckily, police response time in Parkside was faster than usual, considering the previous assault. Within minutes, they had cordoned off the building, and had a ring of police cars surrounding the broadcast station. Helicopters circled the upper levels, keeping at a safe distance.

Within moments, a new feed was set up in the broadcast room as well, as the other cameras came online. The villainous Captain Knievel strutted about as if he owned the place (which, technically, he now did), laughing and pontificating as he waited...

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Brian Harris should've been in school -- in chemistry class, in point of fact. However when he reported to class he found the corridor choked with a stringent yellow fog, the area already being walled off by the faculty. Normally he'd go to the library to study for a bit, but a scheduling error meant that his next class period was free. He decided to fly down to Liberty Park; it was one of the prettier parts of the city, and it was free to walk around there.

He was strolling around the perimeter of the park, window shopping at the stores across the street, wen the news was interrupted. The program was being broadcast on a widescreen HD TV, so even from across five lanes of traffic the teen hero had no trouble seeing the door blown off its hinges and a large muscle-bound man stride into the studio. He couldn't hear any sound -- the display was likely muted -- and he couldn't read lips, but the news team's reaction and the assault on the anchor told him all he needed to know.

He strode over to a nearby news stand, whose owner was reading the latest issue of the Daily Word. "Excuse me," Brian said, "can you tell me where that's happening?" He pointed at the TV were the supervillain was still ranting away. The vendor flicked his eyes over the TV, then returned his gaze to the tabloid and pointed briefly at one of the towers that crowded around the park. Brian touched a finger to his hairline and mouthed a sarcastic thank you -- then took off like a shot. The sudden displacement of air created a powerful, if short-lived, vortex in front of the vendor's shack, pulling magazines and newspapers off the rack and scattering them across the sidewalk and into the street.

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Changelings entrance was not one of grand expectation, given to most it could barely count as anything at all because no one saw nor heard the orange clad woman with dark hair and a masquerade mask as she moved into the newsroom. Walking in she was rather disgusted by the vigor the villian now showed as he moved with his threat but moved past that as she started to count the occupants. Really, fighting wouldn't be safe with so many innocent people around though she wasn't exactly sure how she should proceed with such a violent and unreasonable opponent.

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Brian touched down on the roof of the news building, negotiating a careful landing amid the broadcast atennaes and satellite dishes. There was a single door leading off the roof. It was locked, but he blew a hole in it, blasting the lock out of the door frame. Steps lead down into the building, and soon he was walking past well-appointed offices. No one called security on him, maybe because he was already glowing and gloating. He eventually had to find a guard himself and ask where the news studio was.

It wasn't hard to find the door at least, once he was on the right floor. It was still smoking from the villain's entrance. Brian stopped outside and bounced on his toes, psyching himself up for the fight. This was only his second real fight since deciding to be a hero, and the encounter in the Southside had been -- not a disaster, but it could've gone better, and he was determined that this time would be better.

Glowstar rounded the corner and floated into the news room, force-field crackling and glowing. "Hi there," he called out, cheery. "My name's Glowstar. I'll be your hero for today. Is there any place you would not like to be hit?" He leaned in and stage-whispered, "This is the part where you say something like, 'the face, the face, dear god not the face.'"

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El Sapo huffed and puffed as he leaned against a security door on top of an office building, he thought it might be one that sells paper but isn't sure. Having leapt across half the city to get there El Sapo took a moment to regain his strength and survey the broadcast station. He spotted the jagged hole in the side of the building where Captain Knievel blasted out the masonry, a perfect point for a dynamic entry. "Let's hope I don't miss." He said as he offered a prayer to Chac and braced himself in a runner position.

He dashed towards the edge of the building and leapt with all his strength, flying through the air for a hearstopping moment before crashing to the floor inside the station. He rolled in a painful jumble then scrambled to his feet and fell into an aggressive stance. "Evil beware, El Sapo is here!"

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"...So help me, David Hasselhoff if you come ANYWHERE near that front door you're going to get a face full of plasma!" Knievel was shouting through the hole in the wall when Glowstar arrived. He'd had the cannon mounted on his arm aimed down at the line of police cruisers.

But the were just honest cops trying to make a living. He'd long since gotten over his beef with Freedom City's legal system, flawed though it was. He didn't hate them, he just needed to ensure they didn't screw with his plans. Threat of violence had always worked in the past.

Glowstar rounded the corner and floated into the news room, force-field crackling and glowing. "Hi there," he called out, cheery. "My name's Glowstar. I'll be your hero for today. Is there any place you would not like to be hit?" He leaned in and stage-whispered, "This is the part where you say something like, 'the face, the face, dear god not the face.'"

Now here on the other hand was something Knievel did hate. Mutants. Freaks. He hated them down to the fiery burning depths of his heart. And this one, with the audacity, the daring, the sheer inexcusable arrogance enough to glow was the worst kind. Only he was allowed that right, and only because his muscles were that damn good.

"The face," Knievel responded in kind, "The face," He whirled to glare at Glowstar, "There is a special hell reserved for freaks like you who dare to touch my face." Knievel whipped his arm around, and aimed the Adrenaline Cannon straight at Glowstar. "You know, the special hell. The one full of shame, and hurt. And if I get nothing else done today, I'll take a great deal of satisfaction when when I send you there by putting your lights out with a head butt." Knievel snarled, then smiled, "What's the matter? Not what you were expecting?" With the rage he was feeling, it was difficult to tell the two expressions apart.

"One? Just @#$%ing one? You send me one damn freak, Freedom City? And he's just a kid too." Knievel almost sounded forlorn. Suddenly, a twisted smile crossed his face. He'd had a thought that had obviously given him some sick twisted joy. "Then again, that may be a good thing. Granddad always said, 'Ya gotta learn kids early'." There was a dull packing sound as Knievel drove his right fist into the palm of his left hand. Then he pointed the cannon, and his index finger back toward Glowstar. "C'mere, kid! Time to learn you good."

A crash and a ruckus behind him, interrupted Knievel's grandstanding.

He dashed towards the edge of the building and leapt with all his strength, flying through the air for a hearstopping moment before crashing to the floor inside the station.

"@#$%!" Knievel cursed, and gave a slight leap out of the way of the tumbling El Sapo. "Watch where you're driving, D-bag! I'm working here!"

"Evil beware, El Sapo is here!"

"Really? Evil beware? That's all you got? Of all the lame-ass crap I've heard heroes say over the years, that line has got to be the worst, overused, piece of drivel there is." Knievel was fuming, "Seriously, do you live under a @#$%ing rock? Turn on Comedy Central once in a while. It'll do you wonders. At least 'Glowfreak McRadioactive' here says something witty," he brandished a Glowstar. "Hey, Glowfreak, I kinda like that one, actually. 'Grats, kid, you just earned yourself an insulting nickname. Anyway! El Sapo? What is that? Some sort of Mexican jumping bean? New rule, Bumbles... God I am on fire today! ...Every time Bumbles here says something stupid, I punch you. In the face!" Knievel turned to look toward Glowstar. He had an expectant look on his face as if Glowstar was supposed to fill in the blanks, "And then you say..." He pointed at Glowstar.

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"You insult my title? El Sapo is the hereditary name of my honored lineage. When you insult El Sapo you blaspheme against Chac." Ignacio bristled with fury. He loomed closer towards Knievel his hands clasped spasmodically and his face twisted into a snarl. With a roar he puffed up to his full height and spread his arms, ready to charge and crush the puny interloper with his massive arms. Small lightning bolts crackled from his fingertips and ran up towards his elbows, discharging with small pops and sizzles.

"I WILL BREAK YOU!"

Outside the sky became overcast and lightning flashed, followed immediately by the rumbling boom of thunder so close to the building. In addition rain began to drizzle softly against the windows.

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Doc Titan ran up to the build, nearly tearing off the door as he passed through them. Little shards of glass broke underfoot as he for the stairs. Pushing himself through the stairwell doorway, he started up. it wouldn't be difficult to figure out which floor to stop on. Just follow the sounds of screaming.

Breathing slightly heavy, he climbed the small steps, trying to get to the madman as quickly as he could. Finding a spot to make the change had taken up too much of his time. God only knew what the psycho was doing while he waited.

"I WILL BREAK YOU!"

I think this is my stop. The doc left the stairwell, and closed in on the noise. It wasn't difficult to find the right room. Screaming and a giant hole were more than enough. Stepping through the hole, the enlarged doctor took in the situation. "Did someone call for medical assistance?"

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"Did someone call for medical assistance?"

Knievel's vision flashed white momentarily unwittingly calling to mind the last giant he'd fought.

ATLAS IS STRONGEST THERE IS!!!

It was a fight that he'd walked away from. Teleported away from. Whatever. Knievel sneered, and laughed. Summoning up his most condescending tone of voice possible, he said, "I'm gonna call you, 'Boogers'!""You a doctor? Good. You should get this guy's head checked, Doc." Knievel thrust a thumb toward El Sapo. "You know. Split personality syndro-whatever-sciency-crap. First Bumbles is some sort of immigrant Spanish speaking meteorologist freak show, then he's channeling fictional heavyweight boxers from the Kremlin!"

He held up a hand, "On second thought, no, wait. I wouldn't feel comfortable having you examine anybody. After all, what kind of doctor could you be since you're obviously ignoring the fact that there's SERIOUSLY SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOU!"

Calming himself he continued, "I digress. Two was company, but three is a crowd. Let's get this show on the road before I have to make up any more nicknames, shall we? Gentleman, I'd like to welcome you too-" Suddenly, Knievel was cut off!

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Well it was less cut off as cut in, the bladed edge of a long pole arm to be exact that was plowed directly into his chest. On the holding end of this sudden weapon was a girl in orange medivel garb with wings and a full face masquerade mask looking over at Knievel thoughtfully,

"My, you are really quite obnoxious are you. You send out a challenge, than so easily mock those who accept your offer."

Pushing a bit on the arm to bury it deeper, she only gave a side glance to the other heroes, but still gave a bright smile,

"Good morning, I am very glad you are here, especially you Doctor, because I believe this person has already injured some of the staff in his brutish displays."

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Captain Knievel's brain broke.

Once it fixed itself, he realized that he was angry. And in pain. Lots of pain.

"YOU BITCH!" He roared, grasping his head and stumbling back a pace. "YOU @#$%ING LITTLE @#$&%!!!"

"Freaks! All of you! I was going to be nice about this, but honestly, that @#$%ing hurt. So what's the point, really?" He was holding something. He must have been taking it out as Changeling struck him. It looked like the detonator to a bomb of some sort.

"To all you freaks out there, and well, Freedom City in general..." Knievel held the detonator at arms length in front of himself.

"Go @#$% yourselves!"

He clicked the button.

The newsroom was empty.

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A flash of white, and the heroes found themselves in the centre of a dark, dark room, with a single spotlight overhead. More lights began to flash on around them, the sound of canned applause echoing in the chamber, as it was revealed...they were standing in the middle of a giant arena!

Four huge metal doors were at the North, South, East, and West walls, with TV screens covering the walls in between them. Above were floodlights, filling the entire arena with light, and a huge jumbo-tron with four screens facing in each direction hung from the middle of the ceiling. On the floor directly below the heroes and civilians' feet was a giant picture of Knievel's face, with glinting white teeth, superimposed above a huge flexed arm over top of roaring flames.

Music began to be piped in through hidden speakers, the theme to a very popular wrestling show;

"Listen up, turn it up and rock it out, party on, I wanna hear you scream and shout!"

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As the arena was revealed, and the song died down, the Jumbotron fizzled to life. The grating sound of snow, and the white fuzzy background on the large screens assaulted the heroes' senses like a bad headache. It was grating. It was annoying. It was exactly what Knievel wanted. Not that he had planned it that way.

Things began happening. Sound effects and animations.

*Wham* Knievel's face hit the screen like a block of steel dropped from a great height, *Wham* "The Cap'n" *Wham* "Knievel" *Wham* "Show" *Wham* "!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"HaHAAAA! That's right, @#$%ers!" Knievel himself replaced the title screen in a flash. And then there were fireworks. "You're on TV! Live! Doesn't it feel great?!"

"A round of applause for our beautiful production staff!" He pointed off towards the doors on one side of the arena. Somehow, each of the televisions showed him pointing a different way. Each was compounded by the fact that each action was also him flexing a different muscle. The doors on one side opened. There were monkeys everywhere. They were banging on keyboards, they were screeching, they were operating cameras, they were screeching, they were writing on clipboards, and they were screeching. Each of the monkeys had a metallic skullcap on it's head with blinking lights, and wires patching it into the ceiling. "Hey," Knievel remarked, "It ain't Shakespeare, but they do alright." The doors slammed shut. No more monkeys, no more screeching. Thank god.

"You're probably wondering why you're here." He addressed the heroes. "Well, I'll get straight to the point. Because I hate wasting time with bull@#$%. Wait... Who am I kidding?! MORE FIREWORKS!"

*BOOM*

"Fireworks on command? How could a guy ever want for more? I love being a villain! You're here because I brought you here. What was that?" he addressed someone off screen, "Of course they already know that! I was being cute!" He raised his right arm, and a gout of flame shot out. The screaming implied that he'd just roasted whoever it was that objected to his speech. "Too bad. I liked that guy. Hated his hair though. Not that he has to worry about hair anymore! Haha!"

"You're here because, as promised, you get to fight s**t. Win enough times and you fight me. Beat me, and as the little knife-happy rules lawyer bitch there pointed out, you win. You win? I go home. No more mind control, no more breaking things. At least not for a while anyway!"

"And that's it!" He yelled, "Makeup!" He tossed the microphone he had been using over his shoulder. It hit the ground with a thunk and a lot of feedback. Then there was silence.

No sound. No movement. Even the crowd had shut up.

"OH RIGHT I FORGOT!" Came Knievel's voice from off screen, "FIGHTING!" The crowd started cheering. "AND MUSIC!" And the unseen speakers blared to life.

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Glowstar listened the whole spiel, then glanced around at his fellow heroes before shaking his head slowly. "I hate spectacle sports," he said aloud. "Especially when it's being run by a coward. You just know he'll cheat any way he can think of to not lose." He walked over to the anchor that had been punched out and helped the man sit up. "It's like professional wrestling, really. You just watch for the drama -- and the drama-queens, of course." His strong fingers probed the other man's jaw, trying to figure out how badly the civilian was injured.

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Changeling looked up at the four large screens and let out a sigh before she looked towards the others and the hostages,

"He only wins if we die, and we only win if we can have everyone escape. It is difficult."

Looking over her companions she could only really assess one as a follower of Chac. The others were really unknowns to her, but the Doctor seemed built mostly for close range combat.

"Does anybody have any suggestions before the raging ork starts his attack?"

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"Only a very cruel man would treat monkeys in such a way." El Sapo mused as he examines the strange arena. He then turned to Changeling. "Perhaps I can smash my way out through one of the walls? There must be room for the wiring on those screens." Ignacio shifted uncomfortably, unsure what to do without an obvious target and still uncomfortable around other super heroes.

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The noise was giving Titan quite the headache. The loud idiot yelling at them was not helping matters. he put his brain into triage mode, and started to set priorities. First, the civs need to be quarantined and taken care of. Then find idiot and neutralize. Then find exit, and get civs out. He started to herd the civilians together. It would be easier to take care of them if they weren't scattered around. He'd check them for wounds once they were together.

"Walls most likely at least slightly hollow, for cabling. May be thick, but screens need power." He spoke quickly, to get the information out quickly. Treating a dangerous situation like surgery usually helped. Trust the people around you, get information out quickly, and make sure things wrapped up as quickly as they could.

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Glowstar patted the man on the back. "You should get that nose set," he told the anchorman, "but other than that you'll be fine." He stood up and dusted himself off, listening to the other heroes talking. "That's not a bad idea," he allowed. The teen hero floated into the air, slowly rising higher and higher, eyes fixed on the large, four-sided jumbo-tron display hanging from the ceiling. "Get the civves out of the center," he called down. "At the very least, I'm about to make some cover."

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