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No Tern Unstoned (IC)


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July 25th, 2013

10:30 PM


Commander Alice Volkland of the U.S. Coast Guard was not having a good night.


It had all started out innocently enough; heavy winds and lashing rain throughout the day had driven any number of ships off course, and one more report of the same phenomenon was hardly surprising. That the ship had ended up in restricted waters had complicated matters; that it was a container ship that had run aground had made things downright nasty. The crew of the cutter USS Perseverance had been resigned to a long night of working with local tugs to get the vessel free, assuming it could still float.


But Commander Volkland, who had the experience to back up her rank, had immediately recognized an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, one that was almost always right. Investigating on the way to the scene, she couldn't find a registration number or even a name on the beached ship, let alone any reason it would've come close to restricted waters. And the storm, while it blew all around, shouldn't have put any vessel that far off in that particular direction. Then there was the fact that the vessel's crew had never called for help.


As it turned out, her seemingly paranoid order to get everyone into combat gear had saved several lives, including her own. The men on the deck of the cargo ship had opened up with small arms the minute the Perseverance had come into range, putting two rounds in her vest and two crewmen in sickbay. She'd pulled back immediately, deploying snipers to watch the deck, and radioed for backup. Whatever this was, it was bigger and nastier than her crew could take on alone. And what was that purple stuff spewing out of the ship's ruptured underbelly?


"This is Commander Volkland of the USS Perseverance, broadcasting on all emergency channels. We are under attack by the crew of a beached container ship on the south side of Lonely Point, and require immediate assistance. The enemy appears to be paramilitary, well trained and armed, and the ship appears to be leaking an unknown contaminant..."




"Keep them at a distance," ordered Agent Sixty-Two, his voice oddly distorted by his gas mask. Though he maintained a firm grip on his submachine gun and kept any quaver from his tone, his mind reeled with panic. Everything had been going so well at first; they'd been within miles of Blackstone Island, their terrifying cargo secure and ready for deployment, when the storm had torn all their delicate plans to shreds. The ship was going nowhere, the Coast Guard was shining searchlights right in his face, and (worst of all) the canisters in the hold had ruptured.


The purple mist seeping up through the corners of the cargo doors reminded him constantly of that fact, and that the gas masks had perhaps a half hour left now before the filters were thoroughly contaminated. When that happened, they would all go mad and kill each other. If he left the ship and tried to get to a safehouse, he would almost certainly be arrested and dealt with in prison to keep him from talking. If he managed to reach the safehouse, he would be executed for spectacular failure. He was all out of options.


To top it all off, the gas (which had always reacted unpredictably with water) would soon spread into the ocean and scatter on the wind, driving sharks and sea birds and everything in-between to madness. And, of course, leaving behind samples to be analyzed and counteracted, rendering the long years spent developing and perfecting this new weapon worthless. That much, at least, he still had the power to prevent. He would keep the formula out of enemy hands at all costs. "Ensign," Sixty-Two grimly ordered, "initiate Protocol Scorch."

Edited by Elegy
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A week in the city, and still no sign of the mask.


Seth Syme stepped out of one of his dusky portals, letting it snap shut behind him, and surveyed the horizon with his glowing gaze. It was dark now, dark enough that his human vision was near-blind away from the streetlights of Freedom proper, but that had no effect on his Second Sight, the more important of the two at the moment. After a moment of turning in a slow circle, squinting hard (even though that didn't actually help at all), he sighed. Another of God knew how many sweeps that left him in the same place he started.


It wasn't that his time here had been wasted; he'd done some good in the city already, and he was certainly glad to have been able to do so. It was that he had no idea how long the Twilight Angel was going to let him keep his new life if he didn't produce results. The creature wasn't evil, but it wasn't good either. Pragmatism ruled it, and if he tested its patience too far it would probably cut its losses and take his soul back. An involuntary shudder ran down his spine. The thought of true eternity in the void chilled him like nothing else.


Then a light on the water caught his eye, the large but mundane kind. What was it doing so far out from the harbor? Summoning another portal, he came closer, and soon it was clear. A sleek metal cutter bobbed in the dark waters, shining searchlights on the hull of a container ship with a crumpled front and multiple gouges further down its hull. The uniformed men and women aboard the smaller ship had rifles trained on the apparent derelict, their faces guarded. Something was going on, something bad. A blast of loudspeaker noise confirmed it.


"Unidentified vessel," came a strong, assertive voice, clearly female. "This is the U.S. Coast Guard. I suggest you thrown down your weapons and come down to the beach with your hands on your heads; further attacks will be met with deadly force." Seth frowned; the Coast Guard under attack by a beached ship? Still, deadly force was not something he wanted to have happen on either side here. With one final portal conjuring he arrived on the deck of the ship, ready to offer his assistance in disarming the ugly situation.

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Giang Trang was swimming under the waves of the waters surrounding Freedom City.  Most would not consider making such a swim this late at night, least of all in the middle of a storm, but for the Asian teen, it felt as natural as walking down the street, perhaps even more so.


In less than a week, she would be heading back to Africa to join aid missions there for the rest of the summer.  She had spent the last few weeks since returning from a trip to Atlantis with her roommate on the rather deserted Claremont campus.  But even with her patience with meditation and training it had begun to feel confining, particularly after the weeks spent exploring the depths of the ocean.  So the teen had decided to go out for into the waters near Freedom City for a bit.


With her water detection abilities, she had been able to discern the two ships she was currently approaching by their hulls’ contact with the water.  One had clearly run aground.  So the teen had decided to see if there was anything she might be able to do to help.


As she had drawn close to the smaller ship that was fully in the water, which she assumed was trying to aid the other vessel, Giang brought her head above water, allowing her to hear the message broadcast from the Coast Guard vessel.  It certainly served to prove that they could possibly use her help.


Activating her powers to control the water around her, Giang began raising a column of water up into the air, on which she stood.  Bending the column over to the Coast Guard vessel, the teen brought herself towards the bridge of the ship.  "Greetings officers.  I am Tsunami.  Can I offer my assistance?"


For once, Giang had chosen to wear the blue and yellow Claremont uniform, along with a black domino mask.

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Jessica Parker should not have been awake. It was a weekday, she had work and meetings tomorrow, and by all rights she should be in bed by now, resting. But her mind would not let her relax, constantly going over little problems in her latest designs for telepresence units. She was relutant to go work at the Lab -- that would mean she was offically Up, and probably working into tomorrow morning -- so instead she sat around her home workshop in pyjamas, cutting and welding and swapping out on virtual models.


She wandered down to the kitchen for coffee, when the emergency scanner/ham radio in her kitchen started speaking up. "...Perseverance, broadcasting on all emergency channels. We are under attack by the crew of a beached container ship on the south side of Lonely Point, and require immediate assistance..." That grabbed her interest, and she looked out her window to the coastline.


A few moments later, Ironclad storde out onto her stone patio, on-board systems already pinpointing the location of the Perseverance and putting it on her HUD. Thrusters fired and she was off, slicing through the night towards the coast.

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Out in the Great Bay, a simple red and white buoy floated on the water, lazily swaying back and forth with the passing waves. The alien detective had chosen this form and this location for the serenity and isolation it had provided. But his silent meditation was interrupted by the sight of the cargo tanker crashing into the South Freedom coast.


Innocent lives may be in danger. Assistance may be required. I have the power to aid them, and with that power comes the obligation to provide that aid, whether it is requested or not.


The buoy concentrated on its own flesh, using its telekinetic power to annihilate some molecules, and to then harness that energy toward shuffling around the rest. Plastic and metal collapsed in upon itself, and unfolded a moment later as feathered wings. The seagull soared up into the rain, toward the coast. Light flashed against the darkness. The wind carried echoes of cracking and popping.


Not lightning. Not thunder. Muzzle flare. Gunshots. A public altercation, which threatens the safety of all. It must be contained, suppressed.

Edited by ShaenTheBrain
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Patrolling around the coastline was more than a little out of the ordinary for Wisp but after a long day cooped up in her office working on new stories for Fulcrum's magazine, she needed a change of pace.  The night had started easily enough, stopping a couple drunken frat boys from breaking into Ocean Heights, pulling an amateur boater's truck out of the water when he backed up too far, and the like.  When she saw the Coast Guard ship blow past she added it to the list of things to check on.  When Ironclad soared overhead a few minutes later, she followed the battlesuit as best she could from the ground.


When she hear the sound of gunfire she took a deep breath and muttered, "Show time.  And it was such a nice night too."  She appeared on the stern of the Perseverance in a cloud of white and red smoke.  Holding her hands up she gave a weak smile as several large barrels locked onto her person, "Uh hi.  My name's Wisp, I'm here to help..."

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It was a testament partly to Commander Volkland's unflappable nature and partly to the ubiquity of superheroes in and around Freedom City that the veteran officer did not even blink as three superhumans arrived on the scene, two materializing out of thin air and another rising out of the ocean while a glimmering trail in the night sky hinted at the imminent arrival of yet another. She paid no heed to the seagull, one of many taking wing that night, and simply turned to the new arrivals to offer a crisp salute. "Tsunami, Wisp..."


"Gloaming," the last one offered, and she nodded. "I'm Commander Volkland of the USS Providence. It's good to have you here. We've got an ugly situation, and it's only getting uglier." She walked over to the ship's port rail, silhouetted against the water below by the high-power spotlights glaring past her, and gestured at the container ship they were trained on, still broadcasting so that the incoming hero could also hear. "We have no idea what this ship is even called, much less what it's doing here. They ran aground two hours or so ago, and we moved in to try and help."


She pointed to the divots in her bulletproof vest and the bandage around her shoulder with a grimace. "They weren't looking for help; the minute we got close, they opened up on us. We backed off to wait for help, but now there's something leaking from the bottom of the ship. I don't know if it's oil or what, but I'm willing to bet it's not something we want getting washed up on the beaches. If you could help with either problem, we'd be grateful; we're not equipped for this, and our reinforcements are still an hour out."


Sure enough, the strange purplish cloud beneath the container ship was beginning to spread further into the water...



The Inspector:

High above, riding the turbulent night winds, The Inspector could sense two clusters of minds. One, the Coast Guard ship, was full of tense efficiency; men and women were going about their designated tasks with the stress of imminent battle clouding their thoughts, leaving room for little save the maneuvers they had drilled time and again. There were flashes of pain as well; some of those aboard had been injured, several of them badly. Four other minds, very different in attitude, were also present; they were attentive, determined, and unafraid.


Across the little inlet, where the massive cargo ship had run aground in a jumble of twisted metal, The Inspector could sense apprehension and disappointment that was verging on panic. Violence drifted over their thoughts like a crimson miasma, making them likely to lash out at anyone who came too close. Such ships, in spite of their size, were typically crewed by only thirteen men. This one had thirty aboard, maximum crew capacity, and those who were not standing at the railing with weapons ready were scampering about inside for reasons unknown.

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Seth nodded as the other heroes arrived, somewhat surprised that there wasn't more of a reaction; in his day, the appearance of someone with any of the abilities that had just been demonstrated would have been cause for great wonder - or, as he knew all too well, a witch hunt. He did not recognize any of these heroes, but that hardly surprised him; the Twilight Angel had given him general knowledge at most, and he had been in the city only a week. Still, they had already displayed formidable abilities, and he could not deny that he was impressed.


For a moment he considered leaving; the situation was clearly well in hand if so many of these capable individuals had responded so quickly, and every moment he went without finding the mask could mean the loss of his very soul. But he had no idea what might happen aboard that massive steel beast of a ship, and his abilities were well-suited to helping. Besides, what good, honest, God-fearing man could see such distress and not stop to offer aid, even if only as part of a greater whole? No sense in clinging to pride.


"Ladies," he said, making a formal half-bow at the waist, "it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance." For a moment he worried that his eyepatch and strange garb would unnerve them, but as the thought percolated through his head he nearly laughed aloud. The formidable-looking young women, clearly more experienced than he in the business of helping people despite their tender age, had probably seen far stranger sights; in addition, he found it vaguely amusing that he still had the vanity to ponder the question.


He could not help but notice that both were rather lovely, the Cathayan girl rising out of the water like a petite, bright almond-eyed Birth of Venus and the other (an Albino?) with a cascade of lustrous white hair to frame her pretty face and match her curves. And they were not much younger than he...


Seth coughed politely behind his hand, banishing the flush from his cheeks and making sure to look them both respectfully in the eye. He was here on a mission, he reminded himself, and had a truly awful track record with the ladies (well, lady, but losing his soul left rather a large impression) to boot; these two were powerful people who could make a difference in a bad situation, and he would not allow himself to see them as anything else. "I am but a newcomer here," he said, "little versed in the way of things in this place and time. How do you suggest we proceed?"

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Ironclad cut a wide circle around the scene, burning brightly as her suit scanned the area and threw pertinent information up on her HUD. It was simplicity to locate the Coast Guard cutter's radio frequency and patch into it. "Commander Volkland, this is Ironclad. The ship you're next to is leaking a whole lot of something into the harbor. Are your soldiers under attack? If not, I'm inclined to deal with that spill. There's no way that mixing that chemical into the harbor, during a storm, is a good idea."

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As Wisp appeared on the deck of the Perseverance, Tsunami gave a small smile, glad to see the other young woman.  "It is good to see you again Wisp."  She stated with a slight nod.  Looking to the unusually dressed man who had introduced himself as Gloaming, the Asian teen brought her hands together in front of her and gave a small bow.  "It is an honor Gloaming."  She replied, before focusing back on Commander Volkland as the Coast Guard officer explained the situation.       


Looking out at the purplish cloud that was spreading out from the container ship, Tusnami gave a small nod.  "I am certainly able to assist with either problem, though focusing my efforts on containing the spill might be the most effective use of my abilities at this moment."

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Wisp nodded at Tsunami and smiled before saying, "Dah, same here."  After introductions with Gloaming had started she eyed his outfit, vaguely reminded of a few steampunk novels she had read.  "I have to say, nice suit.  Later, remind me to ask who your tailor is," she complimented, her Russian accent mildly thick in her voice.


After the commander gave the rundown on the situation, the white-haired teen said, "I can get onto the ship and stay unseen while Tsunami keeps the...," her lip curled into a vaguely disgusted snarl, "Stuff out of water.  Once the deck is cleared and secured, would you like me to return and get the boarding party aboard in short order?"

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"Receiving you, Ironclad," Commander Volkland replied, raising a hand to her ear. "We've taken a few hits, but we're out of range now, so you should be clear to take on the spill. Keep us updated; we'll help any way we can. Volkland out." Turning to the heroes assembled on the deck of the Perseverance, she gave a businesslike nod as further suggestions rolled in. "Very good. Tsunami and Ironclad can work on keeping this mess from spreading while you two teleporters find out what's going on with the ship's crew."


Taking up a pair of binoculars, she stared at the cargo ship's shadowy outline. "I'll get a boarding party ready; it'll help to be able to get them aboard without having to move our vessel into their kill zone again." She offered the three heroes a crisp salute. "Good luck. And thank you."

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Seth smiled wistfully as he realized that the two young women knew each other. It made sense, he supposed, but it only reminded him that it would have meant the world to him to see someone he knew. That smile turned genuine as Tsunami politely returned his bow, then a little embarrassed as Wisp sized him up. "Thank you," he replied to her compliment on his garb, unsure whether she was making fun of him but deciding to offer her the benefit of the doubt. He hadn't the heart to tell her that his tailor was long dead.


It occurred to Seth that, if the crew wouldn't negotiate, this would be the first time he had an automatic weapon turned on him. The guns of his day had taken a minute at least for even a skilled wielder to reload; the idea of a weapon that fired a steady stream of bullets was terrifying. He wondered if the prospect bothered Wisp at all. She seemed entirely confident, though upset by the spreading contaminants. Then again, she'd probably faced much worse. He wished he had her coolness in the face of danger; if this became a battle, it would be his third ever.


Pushing his tingling, icy nerves to the back of his mind, he offered her a friendly nod. "Shall we?"

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Tsunami listened as the Coast Guard commander spoke with another approaching hero that would also be assisting with containing the spill and what Wisp and Gloaming would be doing as well.  The Asian teen nodded in understanding, as a thin sheen of water began to swirl over her costume, a protective layer that hopefully she would not need.


"No reason to delay then."  She stated, moving over to the railing before she climbed up and the dove over the side back into the dark waters.


Once under the waves, Tsunami swam closer towards the grounded container ship, taking a few moments to study how the water was interacting with the hull of vessel.  Once she had a better idea of where the ruptures in the hull were, the Asian teen reached out with her powers, creating a layer of "hard" water over those ruptures in order to stop, or at least slow, further contamination.

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"Right, underwater then." Ironclad cut her thrusters and let herself fall toward the ocean, hitting the water head-first and cutting through the waves like a bullet. Underwater was darker than she had anticiapted and LIDAR was almost useless, so she switched her sonar to active ping and quickly picked up the vessel, the rent in the hull, and the woman who went by Tsunami.

Thrusters fired again and propelled the armored heroine forward. It was a bit odd to see the chemical spill (painted lurid purple on her HUD) coming up against a border of water and stopping dead in its tracks, a small part of the ocean contained just by water, but there was an immediate threat to deal with. Slipping through the barrier, she leveraged powers to her servos and began forcing the rent closed, trying to stem the tide of chemicals before doing the delicate welding work.

In the meantime, her suit took a sample of the chemical and began running a battery of tests on it. Information flashed in front of the hyper-intelligent girl's face and she began to put the facts together as she put the ship together.

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These are the aggressors. The others have righteousness in their souls. These are the ones with secrets, for which they will kill.


The seagull vanished from the edge of the damaged ship in the blink of an eye. Like a chameleon, the color of The Inspector's skin faded into his surroundings, while flesh and bone stretched and twisted back into its native Grue'tar form. His digitigrade legs inflated to twice their normal bulk, now wrapped in tightly-coiled muscles ready to launch him across the deck like a hungry cheetah. He tossed a single thought at his in his forearm, and a tiny burst of telekinetic power slid his Star Sword out through the newly-formed sphincter in his palm, which then closed up without a trace the moment his two-thumbed hand gripped the hilt.


He dashed over to one of the crew members, extended his other hand toward the back of the man's head, and glared. His fingers crushed the open air into a fist, and he whipped that fist back and up in an arc, until his forearm was perpendicular to the deck. In his mind, he saw a spectral fist mirroring his own, squeezing the man's brain and jerking it backward, like yanking on the steering wheel of a car.


Take me to your leader.

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At the well tailored man's nod she replied with one of her own, "Let's."  And in a plume of white and crimson smoke the young woman vanished from the Coast Guard boat, reappearing crouched atop a stack of the shipping containers on the leaking ship's deck.  Her boots had made a slight clang when she landed but none of the nearby armed goons seemed to hear it, nor did they notice the quickly dispersing cloud of smoke that signaled her arrival.


Moving along as stealthily as she could, the teenaged heroine crept towards the she assumed was the ship's bridge, her plan being to disrupt their command structure at the head before working on the foot soldiers on the deck.

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Wisp and Gloaming appeared, one in a puff of smoke and the other in a nimbus of orange light, on the deck of the crashed container ship and found themselves in the midst of a chaotic scene. Men and women in gas masks and wetsuits, submachine guns held at the ready, were everywhere; some patrolled the deck, while others were moving up and down the cargo ramp, carrying heavy crates from the containers on the deck down into the hold. Wisp easily vanished into the madness, making her way toward the bridge. She ducked behind containers, slipped by sentries when their backs were turned, and, on one notable occasion, was forced to hang from the side rail while a patrol passed.


In the end, however, she reached the bridge, ascending the stairs under the cloak of night while the rotating spotlights were pointed elsewhere. Three men in the same black wetsuits and gas masks were visible through the large window at the front, only the steel bulkhead door (unlocked) between Wisp and what could only be the group's local leadership. The thick walls made it impossible to hear what they were saying, but the discussion appeared to be heated. Yet a strange feeling was beginning to overtake the heroine; her vision blurred with each breath she took, and strange colors danced across her eyes. Perhaps the spill wasn't just into the water... Perhaps there was a reason for all the gas masks...


Gloaming, who lacked any skill at stealth, simply stepped into the open with his hands raised. A half-dozen guns immediately swung toward him.


Meanwhile, a slipperiness came over the thoughts of OVERTHROW sentry Amon Reid. Take me to your leader. He laughed nervously and shook his head to clear it; he almost thought he'd heard a voice echoing in his mind. All those sci-fi B movies he loved to watch must mess with his head when he got stressed. But seconds later the voice wormed its way into his brain again, and this time he found himself unable to resist. Take me to your leader. The conscious Amon forgot ever hearing the voice as he moved to obey its command, walking along the deck toward the bridge. He was almost there when another guard stepped in front of him. "What are you doing, Reid?" The woman hissed from behind her gas mask. "You're supposed to be watching the starboard side!"


Behind Reid's mind, The Inspector began to feel a peculiar sensation, as if a fog was pressing in on his mind...


As all this occurred, Tsunami and Ironclad were at work in the water. The former's hard water settled easily into the jagged rips in the bottom of the ship, stopping the cloud of purple from growing any larger; the rest of her efforts at containment flowed around the purple cloud, creating an inverted dome that constrained it on almost every side. But not quite; some of it still seeped out over the top, trickling into the surrounding ocean. And Tsunami was soon made aware that some damage had already been done. A pale, sleek silhouette glided out from behind the cloud, its fins catching the moonlight that filtered down through the water. A great white shark, easily twelve feet long, was headed straight for the young heroine!


Nearby, Ironclad completed her speed analysis. This compound was a nasty one, a blend of hallucinogens with effects so potent that even the most ruthless of drug kingpins would never touch the stuff. It was a weapon, pure and simple, deliberately designed to drive anything and everything that inhaled or drank it to acts of insane violence. And if this much had already spilled out into the water, driving any aquatic life that'd been beneath the ship temporarily mad, there must be a vast amount of it on board. Vast enough to take out four entire city blocks in a wave of senseless hate. Or, given the ship's crash location, enough to do away with every guard on Blackstone Island.


And, if the containers were ruptured, it could easily be released into the air, too...

Edited by Elegy
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Seth had never been sneaky; he'd never seen a need to practice it, and felt better about facing his problems head on anyway. So he simply watched as Wisp vanished into the shadows, making her way back along the vessel to the bridge. When she'd gone far enough that he wasn't likely to cause her to be discovered, he simply stepped out into the open, his hands raised in a nonthreatening gesture. Six submachine guns swiveled in his direction, but he remained calm. Whatever these masked people were up to, they deserved a chance to talk things out before more people got hurt.


Of course, talking wasn't exactly an even field where he was concerned; he knew well how to use magic to silver his tongue. He might've won his own trial for witchcraft between magic and his own way with words if not for the fact that the former had been suppressed by Reverend Prophet and the latter alone hadn't been quite enough to sway an angry mob that was not entirely wrong about his practices. He'd never tried to broadcast to a crowd before, either, but it couldn't be too hard. Grasping for the threads of magic and placing them on the loom of his mind, Seth spun a new spell.


Energy whooshed out of him, leaving him gasping for a moment, then tired and aching. But he'd done it!


"I have no quarrel with any of you," he began, his powerful and sure voice easily carrying out to where the six sentries stood. "My only goal here is to ensure that no one else is harmed, yourselves included. To that end, I would urge you to examine your situation. You have fired on a Coast Guard vessel. When reinforcements for the authorities arrive, they will minimize their own casualties. If that means annihilating you from a distance, they will do so." His blazing orange gaze traveled from mask to mask, seeming to stare into souls.


"This vessel is disabled; there is no escape here. Fighting only means throwing away your lives. I would judge, based on the fact that you've crashed here, that your plan has already failed, so you would be throwing them away for nothing. No cause is worth that." Seth took a calm step forward, heedless of the guns trained on him. "I do not expect you to surrender, but I suggest that you look at your options. You can stay here and face certain death or imprisonment for no purpose, or you can do as I suggest: throw down your weapons and leave. I give you my word that you will not be pursued."


The sentries looked at each other, then back at Seth, then at each other again. "He's right," one of them said. "We can't hurt the establishment like this. If he's gonna let us run, let's run. We'll get another chance." Six submachine guns and six sidearms hit the deck as the sentries made their way to the port side of the ship and then down to the beach. Seth watched them go. It was far more important to keep Volkland's people safe and stop the spill than to punish anyone. But the last of the six turned back as she reached the side railing, taking off her gas mask.


Short red hair spilled out, framing a thin, fierce face and blazing green eyes. She was a few years older than he, and several times as intense. "You're alright for a fascist, retro-clothes," the young woman said, pressing the mask into his hands, "so I'll help you out. Put this on, or you'll go loopy real fast. There's gas in the air." With that she jumped down into the sand and followed the others into the night. Seth stared after her, then down at the mask in his hands. He didn't need it; his shield bracelet meant he didn't have to breathe. But what about...


"Wisp!" He called out to the heroine telepathically, hoping he wasn't too late. "This place is inundated with madness gas! I have a mask to protect you; find me near the prow."

Edited by Elegy
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Ironclad's gauntlets crimped the steel of the hull together, forming a makeshift seal that should at least stop any more huge spills. She would come back and weld the breach shut in a minute, but for now she just wanted to stem the tide.

As that was happening, her eyes were darting over her HUD, taking in the chemical analysis of the gunk she was floating in and it wasn't good news. She quickly connected to the Coast Guard cutter again. "Captain, Ironclad here. This stuff is a hallucinogen; ergot derived, but enhanced and weaponized. It can spread through the air, too, so get some masks on your people and clear out the shoreline.

"And get on the horn to Blackstone. This spill would have reached there, if it hadn't been contained. This could be stage one for an attack on the prison."

Her sonar pinged suddenly and she blinked, sending the other windows to the side and bringing up her 360 degree field of view. A pale shape was cutting through the water behind her -- the hallucinogen-infused water. And it wasn't long before her on-board computer identified it as a local selachimorpha. Ironclad was certain her armor would stand up to a shark bite, but she was less certain that she could maintain her station at the hull while one was trying to thrash her around. A quick scan of the radio waves suggested that Tsunami did not have a commlink on her. This could be... troublesome.

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Beneath the waves, Tsunami had finished creating her hard water barriers in an attempt to stop the chemical from leaking out into the ocean.  She noted that while she had for the most part contained the spill, there was still some of the purple chemical that was seeping out into the wider ocean.  The Asian teen frowned slightly, but for the moment could do nothing about that, as her powers were primarily focused on maintaining the barriers.


When she spotted the large great white approaching her, Tsunami was somewhat concerned.  The shark appeared to have possible been in the cloud of purple chemicals, meaning it could be infected by whatever those chemicals were.  While it was certainly heading right towards her, the Asian teen did not want to automatically presume that it was hostile, and in any event, her ability to deal with it was greatly curtailed at the moment.


So, she decided to put a bit of space between her and the shark for the moment, to see if it continued to follow her, and if it did, she could lead it away from Ironclad.  Now that her barriers were in place, Tusnami did not need to stay in visual range to keep them up, so she could afford to lead the shark away some before doubling back to the site of the spill.

Edited by Thevshi
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  • 2 weeks later...

As the stealthy teen slunk along the shadows created by the interplay of shipping containers and the ship's running lights, her vision started to swim slightly and go blurring in her periphery.  Her first instinct, to duck into the darkest shadow she could find and catch her breath only served to bring more of the toxin into her system.  Shaking her head and trying to soldier on, she finished making her way up to the bridge, dodging several of the well armed crewmen as she did so.


Finally she reached what looked like the right door, though given how much her head was swimming she could not be sure, but standing in front of it was a blue-eyed blonde man in a grey and black uniform with red gloves.  She instantly recognized him; Superior, Nazi- war criminal and frequent foe of the Centurion.  On pure instinct, rather than weigh the situation calmly and rashly she reacted with reckless aggression and called upon her blue and black crackling energy and launched twin beams directly ahead of her shouting, "Come on cyka, give me your best shot!"

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