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Feathers in Their Caps (IC)


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Woodsman's advice, at their rooftop rendezvous, was simple. "Nothing fancy. Let's go in the back way there," he said, pointing at the roof line Nevermore had spotted, "and hit anybody who tries to stop us on the way in. Spread out like that, they're not gonna be expectin' gettin' sniped or choked out," he opined, chewing on a toothpick. "And we're a lot quieter 'n some dumbass with a gun, even a silent one. We do it without fightin', I can 't least set off some bombs from far off as we go in - get 'em lookin' the wrong way. Doesn't matter if they're alert if they're all screwin' around chasin' a fire arrow." He was relaxed and confident on the roof, carefully out of eyesight of the people below behind a convenient air-conditioning vent. The low hum of the machinery helped cut the sound of their conversation, too. 

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  • 3 weeks later...

Nevermore had been half-listening to Woodsman on the radio as he approached, taking his time and scouting the outer perimeter. Which was honestly a bit odd to him, as he'd been sure he hadn't made things quite this "military", but he'd been tweaking the settings enough it didn't really set off any alarms.

 

Then he got to the same convenient corner and hunkered down with the others, faintly nodding at the rest of Woodsman's plan as he fiddled with a hidden set of controls under the front of his belt buckle, his eye-pieces shifting colors a couple of times before he glanced at the rooftop of the target building, then to the street, then back to his fellow teenage heroes....

Then he froze, and his head whipped back toward the warehouse, quickly scanning all about, taking in much more detail than before, his posture stiffening, before he hunched down completely out of site, a couple of odd taps to his cowl causing the lenses to completely retract, and his eyes showed more emotion than the entire time he'd been interacting with the other two. His voice was low in volume, and it started bouncing languages quickly. 

 

"Fiu al unui măgar, care se angajează în activități nocturne carnale cu o femeie de reputație proastă! უხეში სუნი ღორის, რომელიც ეწევა უწმინდური საქმიანობაში! Quid stultus, et qui non est de hoc testimonium odorem intelligentiam? Ich verstehe nicht, warum dies geschieht, aber ich hoffe, dass viele schmutzige, schmerzlich, unglücklicher Ereignisse auf die Person kommen, die dachten, das war eine gute Idee! Je suis très mécontent de la tournure des événements et je suis sûr que je peux exprimer de manière adéquate les profondeurs de ma colère, mécontentement, et le mécontentement!"

 

He turned to the other 2 students, the parts of his face they could see showing genuine distress as he looked up from the high-tech smartphone/mini-tablet/PDA/micro-computer/thing in his hands, slowly, almost mechanically putting it away.

 

"The difficulty has been ramped up by at least 3 degrees, and while I'm confident it's not impossible, I'm concerned, because this is outside the bounds of what I wanted. I wanted to get to know you two by way of working with you, albeit in a simulation. I didn't want to put us through something that would make the likes of Midnight have to exert effort."

 

His tone made it clear he held the graduate from a few years ago in rather high regard.

Edited by KnightDisciple
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"Hnh," Nighthawk grimaced but she was surprisingly willing to give the other student the benefit of the doubt, "Archer's at it again, probably. Pretty sure he's flagged our names to do all sorts of things when they're stuck into the scenario generator." She made a face before her jaw steeled. Flexing her fists, she scanned it, "Though, I do like smashing through his expectations. We can cut the scenario if you wanna, Nevermore. No need for  you to have to deal with this kinda' crap if you don't wanna. Woodsman and I are up for it, though," she gave her partner a sidelong look to gain his agreement there, as although Nighthawk trusted they were on the same page, she wasn't going to run roughshod over the archer's wishes. 

 

She bumped Woodsman's shoulder, the gesture as subtle as it was reassuring, where she stretched out along side him in the hide-y hole. "Won't be my first time bruised up in a danger room session."

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"'m up for it." The laconic archer didn't seem as bothered by the changeup as the others - though he still returned Nighthawk's nudge with a smile that suggested he was with her all the way anyway. "Real life's always harder'n any test. Though, heh, better not do anything y'wouldn't do in real life or it's counselin' or detention fer sure." He gave Nevermore an odd look, as if he was trying to get inside the other boy's head and finding little success there. Shaking it off, he turned his head back towards the warehouse before commenting, "Let's mix it up a little. You go in 'n do something w' range, use a boomerang or somethin', make 'em think you're the guy who was sniping 'em. Nighthawk can hit him face-to-face. And I'll hang back and shoot anybody who tries to start trouble. You with me?"

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Nevermore nodded at the words of the other two students, meeting each of them in the eye for a few moments before speaking. Unconsciously, his left hand drifted across his torso to a spot on his ribcage, as if feeling an old wound. Both of the others could tell it wasn't an actual wound, but more like a reflexive check of an old scar.

 

"It would not be my first...surprise test. I am perturbed because I had fully cleared not only this training session, but the specific parameters of it, with the Headmistress. She felt the socialization would benefit me. Perhaps it is my perfectionism leaking through, though."

 

He's got a determined set to his face, now. A slight forward nod, and white lenses snap back into place, before beginning to glow green.

 

"I am with you. Partner."

 

Instead of holding a hand out for some sort of group cheer, he simply gives both of them a nod before slipping away, jumping across a couple of rooftops, or zipping across with his grapnel, before being in position. His voice whispers across the radio.

 

"In position and ready. I will start the attack when you both confirm you're ready."

 

As soon as the "go" signal is given, Nevermore's grapnel line will rocket out and hit the lip of the rooftop of the warehouse. The men on the ground won't notice anything, but a couple of the rooftop guards turn at the slight sound...only to receive a quick barrage of feather-shaped throwing "knives" to the face and torso. Nothing lethal, but it stunned them long enough Nighthawk would be able to swing around and mop them up. 

 

Nevermore didn't stop moving, dashing from cover to cover on the roof as he lined up more throws. Unfortunately, the slightly reckless nature of his attack meant that it was noticed, and it wasn't long before radios were crackling with warnings, and the remaining guards on the roof were moving with predatory purpose. 

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Nighthawk's nod was all business but her sidelong smile at Woodsman was as brief as it was warm. "Nor ours," she agreed with Nevermore under her breath. She took a few steps back from the edge before sprinting into action to follow Nevermore's path, making sure that any one who went down was going to be out of at least this fight.. As the radios began to static up, she changed her pattern. Nighthawk was well aware that it was her job to get hit if someone was going to. So, rather than cover, she launched herself straight from the rooftops edge into a knot of guards. 

 

"Hey, wanna dance?" She asked, the words muffled under yelps and bursts of gunfire shot harmlessly off towards the sky. Nighthawk's fist struck out, chopping one man in the gut and then then jaw with just enough force to send him to the ground. As she turned to sweep her leg out. "Gonna play the distraction, boys, while you find us an opening to the target." 

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Crossbows are slower than longbows - even with a lever to cock and load one out of a magazine on the Chinese model, it's simply a matter of fact. So from his sniper's nest, Woodsman kept his shots slow, well-aimed, and rare. 

 

The big guy with the minigun (where the hell was he supposed to have gotten a minigun!) targeting Nevermore - an explosive bolt into the magazine, knocked down by the explosion as he frantically threw the weapon away. 

 

A flash bolt in the face of the woman coming up behind Nighthawk with a glowing sword, knocking her down and setting her up for a blow from Robin that knocked her out cold. 

 

Another sniper on the rooftop across the way; a standoff between bullet and bolt that ended with a _crack_ of an arrow exploding inside a sniper's scope. That guy was down - and probably had nothing worse than some cuts on his face. 

 

Could have blown off the guy's head if I didn't have a delayed fuse. But do I get any thanks for that, no sir I do not...

 

By the time Woodsman had used his remaining bolts, the fight below looked to be largely over. He rappelled down to join the others, bow slung across his back, and jogged quickly to Nighthawk's side. "Nicely done, pretty bird," he said with a real smile. Extra violence or not, it was clear Riley was enjoying himself. "What's next?" 

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"Not bad on your shots. Good use of exotic bolts."

 

Keeping in mind how taciturn Nevermore was, that was pretty high praise. He glanced at the imposing edifice in front of them, a slightly worried frown on his face as he fiddled and futzed with various bits of equipment in pouches, shifting things here and there until he started sliding modules into his gauntlets.

 

"Originally, there was supposed to be a single notable opponent inside. Powerhouse-lite. Tough but doable. Now? Unknown. Likely not Freedom-League-level foe or foes, but may be multiples. I suggest I go in one of the roof entrances, Nighthawk bursts through that door over there, and you, Woodsman, slip in and snipe from the balcony or the like. Play to our strengths, try to out-flank whoever's in there."

 

He snapped a final component in. Both of the other cowl-types could hear the sudden electrical whine, and when Nevermore flicked his arms a certain way, tiny waves of electricity danced upon his gauntlets for several moments. The bird-themed sidekick looked to the other two, determination setting his mouth in a thin line. 

 

"Done playing around."

--------------------------------------------------------------

 

With their battle plan set, the young heroes got to moving. When it came time to enter, Nevermore struck the glass pane in front of him once, twice, thrice, then walked back a few feet....

 

*CRASH*

 

In a rain of small fragments of glass, Nevermore dropped down to the floor of the warehouse, cape flaring in the flickering lights as he landed on the ground and kneeled for a moment before rising slowly, cape draped around himself. 

 

The large man pointing an assault rifle at the young hero, with a strange red-gray armor leaking over his body, didn't seem overly impressed. 

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Some of the heroic archers Woodsman had heard about would have played this fancy - a shot to the man's eyepiece to blind him, a shot to the gun to disarm him, or many other things, really. 


Riley had trained to fight enemies that didn't think, didn't feel, didn't care, except when it meant looking for new and different ways to rend and tear each other and what had once been their fellow humans. This was a fellow human, though - which was why the bolt didn't go through the top of the man's head. Instead it hit the man in the middle of his armored torso, detonating against the hard plate with a boom like a gun going off, shattering the surface and sending shockwaves rebounding through the man's flesh. 

 

Damn, Riley thought. He always forgot how much human beings protected their torsos. Rolling out of sight on the other side of the roof, he gave Nighthawk a feral smile, waiting for her to head down too. He worked his slide, this time loading a line that would let him join the other two down below. 

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GM Post

 

The man with the large rifle, now completely covered in an eerie set of grey-red armor that looked like metal and composites at a glance, but not quite right at a closer look, reeled back from the explosion against his chest. The plating there had cratered a bit...but the edges of the damage were twitching! As if his clothing were alive

 

It was quickly shown that he wasn't alone. Another man stepped out from the half-shadows, his gaze slipping toward the rooftop for a moment before centering on Nevermore. His black, featureless long coat swirled around him as he raised the two dark, gleaming automatic pistols and took aim, his face emotionless. He pulled the triggers, and two short bursts roared out, the flare from the guns somehow making six-pointed stars...

 

And Nevermore deftly dodged to one side, his flaring cape confusing his movements enough the bursts of projectiles just eating divots from the floor. The gunman just lowered his guns partway and tilted his head to one side. 

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Although she often passed as a tough scrapper, there were moments certainly where the fact that Nighthawk was somehow more than human became obvious. Her sudden movement from Woodsman's side into the open air was one of those as rather than slow her descent with acrobatics, she merely dove towards the cement floor stories below to land with a surprisingly soundless 'whumph' directly on her feet between the gunslinger and Nevermore. Rather than convey that she had this particular target vocally, she did so with her actions. 

 

Rising from her crouch, Nighthawk pivoted and brought the flat of her hand into the gunslinger's throat; a move that Woodsman hadn't seen executed by his girlfriend since that awful day in the Goodman tower. That day, though, it had been accompanied by the sound of bones breaking. This time, Nighthawk executed the move with only the amount of force to stagger their hologram opponent, causing him to choke and sputter in shock. 

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Nevermore, meanwhile, was not content to sit idle when there were foes to be fought. He continued the whirling motion he had begun, and stepped forward the last few feet to the large, armored man, his path erratic as he moved. Not that his foe seemed to notice over-much; he was still reeling from Woodsman's explosive bolt. He seemed to somewhat register Nevermore's presence, but not enough to react nearly in time.

 

Which meant Nevermore was free to land a barrage of punches and knee strikes, most of them focusing on the same part of his armor that Woodsman had struck. It didn't take him out completely, but there were large, visible cracks in the armor now. And the electrical current coursing through Nevermore's gauntlets caused his body to seize up, locking him from any real action even more, at least for a few precious seconds. 

 

Nevermore just took a half-step back and kept his guard up. 

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Woodsman took a calculated risk and shot the red-black man not in the body but in the magazine of his rifle - a risk that paid off, big, when the hissing, smoldering bolt struck home! He wouldn't have done that to a normal man - not when a normal man would have died from the explosion. But the sudden eruption of the magazine in a gout of flame at the man's side sent him staggering to one knee, the flaming pop-pop-pop of the exploding ammunition having cracked the armor open without seriously injuring the man inside. It was the sort of strike that would get Riley a talk from Mr. Archer but no actual detention. An acceptable loss, especially to save Nighthawk from some all too real bruises. Smiling, he rolled back into the shadows, away from the skylight. 

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Nighthawk would thank Woodsman for having her back, but later, when there were no more foes to deal with. She turned and pivoted, trusting her companions to fill their roles even as she focused on the gunslinger. Once more her fist snapped out, the hard flat of her palm now catching the gunsling in the side of his cheek, drilling him in the sensitive nerve cluster that she'd trained to strike unerringly. With no more then a hissed gasp, the man dropped at Nighthawk's booted feet. Her battle was a silent one compared to the explosions of the symbiote's armor but no less effective in its efforts. 

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Nevermore saw the opening Woodsman had made in his foe's defenses, and he capitalized upon it as best he could. The armored man was staggering, flakes of some sort of hard organic material falling from his side as much of his armor writhed and screeched, while the man inside groaned and barely seemed aware of the world around himself. His arms moved slowly, as if through molasses, though it was clear some muscle memory remained.

 

To one trained as Aleksander Garen Nakani, it was as if the man was wearing an engraved invitation to remove him from the fight. Nevermore's hands shaped themselves into knife-edges, and a series of hard jabs and chops at critical nerve clusters had the man spasming repeatedly, even as the flowing electricity seemed to take the fight out of the living armor he wore. He staggered back from the series of blows, starting to fall forward...

 

Until Nevermore's fist met the underside of his jaw. The sound that impact produced virtually guaranteed a broken jaw, and probably at least a couple of cracked teeth. The hit actually lifted the man into the air and sent him on a backwards arc, likely to land flat out on his back. 

 

Until Nevermore delivered an axe-blow with both hands, right to the pseudo-soldier's midsection, sending him crashing straight to the floor, bouncing up momentarily, before coming to a rest splayed out, the strange armor he was wearing slowly melting into a weakly moving pool beneath his body. The two bounces of his head off the floor at the end of that attack sequence likely put him completely unconscious.

 

Nevermore himself drew back a few paces, his glowing green eye pieces sweeping the warehouse for any threats. None made themselves known yet...

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Woodsman took this opportunity to make his descent - dropping down by line from above with speed enough that no lurking snipers could target him. He was reasonably sure that no one could be left in the scenario like that. After all, they'd have shot at Nighthawk or Nevermore first. But he kept his eyes open during his rapid descent anyway - letting his line dangle as he ducked away into the shadowy places away from the direct illumination of the skylight. Once he was down with the others, he decided to test the patience of anyone watching them, firing a brightly burning flare that zipped its way into the darkness all around them.

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The warehouse was empty around the heroes, filled with nothing but stacks of crates. The sputtering light of the flare showed this, even as Nevermore's lenses auto-adjusted for the intermittent light. 

 

Between the flickers of the flare, suddenly the catwalks above are filled with armed men. Twice as many men and women as had been outside and on the rooftop, most armed with guns as or more advanced than the man who wore an alien for armor, some armed with even larger weapons (there were at least two miniguns). The sounds of charging handles being pulled back, barrels spinning up, and feet shifting stance filled the warehouse. Dozens of red lights played over the three teens....

 

Before the whole room suddenly seemed to freeze in place, the only movements coming from the three teen heroes, and Riley's flare. It fell to the ground, sputtering flame, even as the room slowly began to fade from a dark warehouse to brighter, plain metal. If the kids turned a bit, they'd see lights on in the observation booth, and a figure standing at the window.

 

Nevermore had tensed up when the "reinforcements" showed up, his mouth set in a stubborn line. When the simulation began to shut off, he stood up, his shoulders rolling just so in a way that caused his cape to drape across his front, leaving his body covered. Only his head and feet were distinguishable; his eyes became visible as his high-tech lenses retracted into his cowl.

 

The teenage boy wasn't the most expressive person, but Riley and Robin could probably tell he was less than pleased. 

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Nighthawk smiled for the first time as they reached the end of the simulation, holding out one wrapped hand for high fives. She didn't miss that Nevermore was upset, but she'd grown used to these sorts of sessions in the Doom Room. If they weren't going to get support from their erstwhile teacher, Nighthawk had taken to stepping in to fill that particular cheerleader role. This time, that job wasn't even hard. 

 

"Good job," she told her teammates. "Especially for working together for the first time. Next time, we'll do even better."

 

The last was added with a downright defiant look towards the observer in the booth before she began to unwind the wrappings from her fists and fingers, "Wanna grab some lunch. We'll have extra time if he goes for stoney silence over lectures today."

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"Wasn't that bad," said Woodsman, doing his best to be reassuring to the other young man. "We coulda taken those guys," he opined, "I had coverage behinda boxes, and half of 'em couldn't shoot at us without hittin' their stuff." He hmmed, thinking about that - what had been the point of a poorly-planned ambush like that, anyway? He didn't think about it for long, though, high-fiving Nighthawk with a cocky grin. "Awesome fightin', babe. Need ta get a camera and take your picture doin' that." 

 

When the lights came back on all the way, they could make out Archer in the glass in the observation booth, the computer's glow reflected in his glasses. "Adequate performance," he said calmly. "Woodsman, your marksmanship was well within expectations, as was your ability to lead, Nighthawk, and yours to fight and plan, Nevermore. I have no serious complaints about your performance tonight." 

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Nevermore almost absent-mindedly raised a hand to high-five Robin when it was offered. Then, he took a single step forward.

 

"Adequate performance? We were presented with a vastly-altered scenario that we still overcame without receiving any injuries, at all. We just took down a heavily-armed and well-staffed gun-running operation, one run by two highly competent and deceptively dangerous opponents. Who never got a chance to land a single hit on us. None of us received injuries in the entire simulation. Against sets of foes who are at least one step above regular criminals in Freedom City; some were at the level of First World military personnel. I think we need to redefine our definition of adequate."

 

Another step.

 

"Which entirely puts aside the fact that this was supposed to be an easy scenario because it was never about being pushed to our absolute limits, it was about me meeting and working with two fellow students with at least somewhat similar abilities and skillsets. I explicitly scheduled and cleared this scenario, my scenario, with the Headmaster. This wasn't supposed to be a test."

 

His voice was completely calm, but that was some rather aggressive wording on his part. 

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"Within expectations and utterly adequate is the highest praise we generally get in a scenario," Nighthawk said simply, utterly honest as she finished un-tapping her hands and went to tuck the bindings away. Flexing her fingers once or twice to get the feeling back into them. It might have bothered the stalwart Fens native but she'd long ago learned to keep that from her features. She clapped Nevermore's shoulder once with a small shrug, "Can always try to bring it up with the head mistress." She tried to offer encouragement, even if Robin didn't have much hope of the young man being heard. 

 

Turning back towards Riley, she added. "I got a few ideas we can work on for that kind of split level fighting for next time."

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"Your concerns are noted, Nevermore. If you are interested in earning higher evaluations, you should put forth a greater effort during training - and you should be more prepared for the unexpected. Thank you for your efforts tonight. You will have a full written evaluation by the end of the week." And with that, Archer was gone, the lights upstairs going dark. 

 

For his part, Riley looked no more than mildly nettled by Archer's training - being exposed to imminent harm that was not harm was not a major concern for the wiry teen. "Sounds great," he said seriously. Robin really was great - and Nevermore was an all right guy too, he conceded to himself, having been nettled by the other teen before. "Hey, you're OK'n my book, Nevermore," said Riley, patting the larger boy on his armored back. "We did great. You just gotta taste of one of Archer's specials."  

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Nevemore's jaw actually dropped open at Coach Archer's words. He seemed genuinely flabbergasted, and the overt display of emotion was all the more shocking for how tightly controlled the young man had been up to that point. He blinked, then shook his head as if to clear it, turning to face the other two students. He regarded them for long moments, before he reached up and pressed on his cowl in a way neither of them quite caught. The whole thing seemed to actually loosen a bit, and with a tug, it was completely removed. 

 

The young man before them was now quite clearly of Eastern European descent, his skin bearing a bronzed tone to it, even as they can see his dark hair is currently kept in a tightly-wound ponytail. His face breaks out in a soft smile, and when he speaks, his voice is nowhere near as rough and intimidating as it was before.

 

"My name is Aleksander Garn Nakani. It's nice to meet both of you. I'm sorry for the gruffness earlier; that's..."

 

He stops, his thick brows furrowing for a moment before he shrugs it off.

 

"I get that way. When training. Or in the field. So. Yeah. I'll make sure the Headmistress hears about this, but Archer's just a jerk. He's not even scary. Boss Lady, she's the scary one. Anyway, do you guys want to meet in the cafeteria in a bit to talk over ideas for the future?"

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