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  1. It was an early morning in the extended stay inn at the outskirts of Erie Pennsylvania. The sun had not yet risen, but the room’s occupant had. Gwendolyn Hawthorne was shadow boxing in the corner of the cramped room, bouncing back and forth on her toes. Just a light workout to get her blood pumping before she started her day. After a few minutes fighting enemies that weren’t there, Gwen removed her weighted gloves and moved on to a set of push-ups, squats, and upside down crunches hanging from a pull-up bar she had wedged in the bathroom doorway. 250 jumping jacks later, she stripped out of her workout clothes and plunger herself into the cramped hotel bathroom tub that she had filled with ice water. The cold nearly sent her into shock, but she stifled a shiver as she felt her blood vessels contract and her heart rate slow down. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was familiar, which was comfortable. Gwen sat in the water perfectly still, meditating for the day ahead of her. Her meditation only lasted ten minutes, before the alarm on her phone went off, signaling to her that she had spent long enough freezing her ass off. Tying up her hair in a bun so that she wouldn't have to worry about it drying, Gwen quickly toweled herself down, slipping into a comfortable but form-fitting t-shirt, cargo pants, and tightly-laced outdoor boots. Slipping on a cheap hoodie, she grabbed her duffle bag and was out the door. |→ - ←—→ - ←—→ - ←| The car Gwen had parked was an old beat-up Subaru Outback, model year 1997. Or was it ‘95? The important part was that this tin can was a survivor, and as the Ontario license plate showed, it had lasted Gwen for quite a distance. Gwen tossed her bag into the fashionably spacious trunk, and after only a few tries, she managed to get the engine started. She adjusted the overhead mirror to look herself in the eye, admittedly a bit dramatically. “You got this. Regular Tuesday morning for a high-caliber sorcerer like yourself.” |→ - ←—→ - ←—→ - ←| Some distance outside of Erie, a lone girl walked down a Pennsylvania backroad. She’d done a lot of that since taking off on her own quest, the more she thought about it. Walking. Down backroads, across sprawling urban landscapes, into the middle of the woods, through mud and snow - sometimes both at the same time - in sun, wind, rain, or otherwise. If there was one constant, it was walking. Which was fine by her. It was good for her, and this kind of walking - down the highway with no distractions of civilization, yet a literal paved path to her objective - was her favorite. Still, the trek up here had been nothing if not long and arduous, and Kiara was at this specific time getting a bit tired of walking. It wasn’t long before the beat-up station wagon pulled up beside the girl. Leaning over, Gwen laboriously cranked down the passenger window, poking her head out, “Need a lift into town? I’ve got somewhere to be but I could spare a bit of time.” “If you’re offering.” Kiara opened the back door of the beat-up station wagon for just a moment to toss the large backpack slung over her back into the car, before getting in at the front and situating herself in the passenger seat. Gesturing down the road, she simply left it at “Thanks for the lift. I've got something to do out of town, so I'll just tell you where to drop me off.” “Looks like we're headed the same direction. Just let me know when to pull over.” After a few tries, Gwen managed to get the engine going again, and after peeling out a bit in the roadside gravel, the two were off. “So where ya goin’? Visiting friends?” “Job interview. Got a bit of an NDA though, so I can't say more than that.” “Mysterious! Funny thing though, I've got an interview later as well. Nothing interesting though, 007.” “Well, fancy that. Here's hoping we're both employed by tonight.” Gwen scoffed, driving with a knee for a second as she brushed a few stray bangs away from her eyes, “What's the matter? Not a fan of bumming rides off of interesting strangers?” “I just need the money.” Kiara cast a quick glance into the rearview mirror, and at the road ahead. “Didn't think they had this much nothing up north, to be honest.” “Trust me, the further north you go the more nothing you find.” The car slowed down, as Gwen read a road sign. She sped back up, clearly not having found what she was hoping for. “You know, they say hitchhiking is pretty dangerous. I could be one of those murderer cannibals you see on YouTube.” “They say picking up hitchhikers is also pretty dangerous. For all you know, I'm an escaped convict with a rap sheet a mile long.” “That's more what I’m expecting from the rest of my day.” Gwen pulled over indicating with her hand toward an off-road, “that’s my turn, hopefully you can find another person so cheerful for your next stretch. Good luck on that interview.” Kiara stared down the off-road. No doubt about it, that was the right way. “...that’s my turn, too.” Her gaze then moved over to the driver who so generously picked her up off the road. “One of us may have some explaining to do.” “No foolin’?” With a little smirk, Gwen pulled back onto the road, immediately taking the turn, “So are you a strong one, or a weak one?” Reciprocating the smirk, Kiara leaned back some in her seat. “I was taught not to brag about that sort of thing, but strong, definitely. You?” “Oh no no, I’m super weak. Lucky to have lived this long, really.” “Hopefully they don't throw you out on your ass, then.” “Wouldn’t be too bad, with this beauty,” Gwen gave her dashboard a few slaps, “she's pretty cozy, all things considered…” The two girls went for the remaining 20 or so minutes of the drive without exchanging words, but Gwen stole every glance she could at her passenger, trying her best to gauge what the girl might be really capable of. A strong one, huh? When Gwen arrived at their destination, she pulled up in front of the entrance, like a parent on the first day of school. “Shit, I never got your name, 007.” As Kiara got out of her seat, and grabbed her bag out of the back of the car, she responded, “Kiara. And I never got yours, either.” “Gwen. Good luck Kiara, not that it seems you need it.” “Same to you.” With a sigh, Gwen drove away from the supposedly strong hitchhiker, finding a parking spot well out of the way so her prized auto wouldn’t get scratched by anyone trying to park too close. Grabbing the duffle bag from the trunk, she slung it over her back and jogged up to the building. Bursting through the doors with a fierce grin, she spoke loudly enough to deliberately draw attention to herself, “So, do we just line up at one of those Test Your Strength carnival games to see who’s special grade and who’s getting neuralyzed, or what?”
  2. [Nasty Habit] ”That's it? Guess we'll be done before lunch!” Name: Gwendolyn Hawthorne Gender: Female Age: 26 [Appearance] Height: 5’7” - 170 cm [Cursed Technique] Cursed Technique - Smoke Transmutation: By channeling cursed energy into smoke, Gwen is able to change its properties. At this time, she is able to perform two extension techniques with this. Concretion: This extension technique allows Gwen to solidify smoke in mid-air. These created objects hang in place until acted upon, and can serve as footholds, barriers, or even weapons. Expansion: With this technique, Gwen is able to rapidly increase the pressure and volume of smoke, producing explosive force. While the damage yield of this technique is low, it creates considerable thrust, and is effective at pushing enemies back and propelling herself. Grade 4 Cursed Object - Cursed Incense: In order to produce smoke, Gwen burns both sticks and blocks of incense that are cursed ahead of time for increased effectiveness.
  3. “Mmfm mrfumemer!!” Sita flinched upon hearing the voice come from her pocket, but only for a moment before she was able to both put two and two together, and consider that someone small enough to fit inside her pocket wouldn't have been much of a threat in the current situation. At first she'd figured Tsurumi would just hop out of the pocket whenever, but now she had to wonder if the other girl was incapable of that. But that kind of question could be asked later. For now, Sita reached into her pocket and pulled out the little piece of paper that was Tsurumi. "You can talk like that?" Sita asked, setting Paper Tsurumi down next to her. "You've got all sorts of tricks up your sleeve!" “Of course I can! I wouldn’t be much good otherwise!” Tsurumi flapped her paper wings rapidly, fluttering up to nestle in Sita's hair, just above her ear. "Keep me close, and we can throw off their count on how many of us there are. We're in the thick of it this time, we can't afford to slip up," she whispered. "Don't have to tell me twice." Sita reached behind her back to grab her bow... and in so doing, realized that in the rush the twins had thrown upon her, she left it back inside. With a shrug and sigh of mild annoyance, the girl got up to her feet for a better posture, and held out her hand. Above her palm, the night's moonlight gathered around in one spot, becoming a small sphere of condensed light about the size of a tennis ball. In a manner not at all unlike a pitch aimed at a target on the wall, Sita put her arm back - with a distinct upward angle this time, to account for her targets being beneath her - then lobbed the ball straight down into the fray. "How's your pitching hand?" she asked, glancing over in Paper Tsurumi's direction. Tsurumi could practically feel the sweat drip from her forehead, wherever it may be represented in her current form, remembering her embarrassing showing at the carnival game minutes before her and Sita’s fateful meeting. “I’ll admit, it could be better. But I have an idea.” One of the two wings that made up the majority of Tsurumi’s diminutive form unfolded back into an arm as she hopped down to rest back on Tsurumi’s shoulder. Taking hold of one of the shining spheres Sita created, she manipulated it quickly within her fingers until it was in the shape of a flatted ninja star, still glowing like the moon, small enough to fit within her palm. “Here’s how I see things,” Tsurumi whispered, her voice suddenly much more serious than usual. “We have five enemies. Two are already engaging with our forces, and appear to be a head-on attacker, and a support caster. We have to trust our units on the ground to handle them, otherwise we will get too mixed up in the chaos.” Tsurumi’s remaining wing unfolded slightly to reveal a single silver eye peeking from within, a rare sight from one whose eyes are usually concealed. The eye’s gaze was stone cold as it focused down on the one called Shouhi Aki. “Their team can be expected to be more coordinated than our own, since this is our first real fight all together. This means our only shot is to disrupt the chain of command, and take out their leader!” With a sharp motion, Tsurumi let loose the light-paper shuriken. It took a wide arcing path as it cut through the air, curving around the square to come at the one called Aki from an unexpected direction. When it reached a distance of only a few meters from its target, it unfolded back into the orb of moonlight that Sita had created it as, hoping to maximize damage to the enemy leader.
  4. The high sea! Despite having slept on dozens of couches in a handful of countries, Tsurumi had never once been on a ship upon the open ocean. It was a scenario she had fantasized about plenty, especially being surrounded by so many cuties! She had bold plans to say such things as 'I'm flying!' from the bow of the ship while wrapped in the arms of Sita, the thief, or either of the twins (perhaps even some combination thereof!), but instead she had found herself in an entirely different circumstance. Over the week of transit, Tsurumi became intimately aware of her relationship with seasickness. She wasn't entirely sure if the constant smell of salt water contributed, or if it was purely a matter of the constant rocking without any visible frame of reference. Whatever it was she was confident that she had lost a few pounds through her inexplicable inability to ingest even insultingly infinitesimal amounts of nourishment. Unfortunately, her body seemed to take offense to the awful condition she was in for the entirety of the trip, to the point where even upon reaching dry land she was well out of commission. And she had done so well to research the love stories of the area. She was pretty sure that romance was even named after this place! And so, while the rest of her compatriots got to tour the city, Tsurumi was holed up in the first hotel Mister SecDef found after they got off the train, vomiting away her dreams of finding love in the City of Light. After a few hours, she had mostly returned to her normal chipper self, and a shower had her feeling even better. Maybe I'm allergic to trains too? Kinda wild I am able to skydive without issue. Dressed up in the cutest outfit she was able to pack on such short notice being practically kidnapped by the US Government from what was supposed to be a day trip, Tsurumi burst forth from the hotel room, only to be immediately met with the exact type of man the novels she made a habit of reading implied would live here. Chiseled jaw, a dirty blonde flowing mane of hair that extended well past his shoulders. In his arms he carried a basket full of evidently used towels. "Pulchra vir!" was all Tsurumi could stammer out as he cocked an eyebrow. "Is that... Latin? You know we pretty much only speak English, right? I'm Fabius, I'm just here to collect the laundry. Your name is Soomy, right? I think that is what I was told..." Tsurumi's eyes were practically sparkling behind her bangs as she shoved her way past him and out into the streets of Rome, "I am sorry, Antinoüs, but I am already committed to somewhere in the range of one to four others, and they have far more compelling backstories than you! I cannot wander astray from them!"
  5. Introductions weren’t something that Tsurumi had paid particularly close attention to, though she found the pair of twins to be intriguing at the very least. Her bigger concern at this point was with what the group of recruits had heard before being shuffled out of the meeting earlier. “Sooooo…” Tsurumi did her best to avoid staring at the pair of twins, “we heard something about a break-in earlier. Is that something we should be worried about?” “If Geri says it’s all fine up there, we should take her at her word,” Fay answered. From her lap, she set a large sketchpad down on the table in front of her, fetched a pencil from some unknown pocket on her person, and got to sketching something. “It’s unusual for psychics to be able to break into facilities like this under normal circumstances. And even if it wasn’t…” Fay slammed her hand on the sketchpad, causing a hovering image of Air Force Zero’s layout to spring from the page, floating in the air in front of her. She pointed the pencil to one large room that, based on the plan, was rather difficult to access. “The prison block is in a spot that makes it tough to get to, or tough to leave the airship through if people know there’s a breakout happening. Plus, there’s only one way in or out, and we have mechanisms to lock the place down real tight. If there was a risk of trouble, we’d know about it by now.” “We could always go check it out if you’re that worried, though,” May added. “And we could get that hair Geri mentioned while we’re at it.” “Wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait.” Tsurumi stammered nervously, “By ‘we’, do you mean…” “You’d be coming with, yeah. You’re the one who asked about it, so you’ve gotta come with.” Two-for-one Deal!? Tsurumi was taken aback. She had only just joined the team, but she was already an integral member?? This pair of adorable twin sisters needed her. Of course, it would fit her desire even better if one of them was a boy, but this wasn’t one of the books she used to read in her room, after all! Two girls was still a catch! As they walked their way toward the prison block, each twin held one of Tsurumi’s hands. They were in lock-step as she skipped gleefully. She wasn’t sure how she would break it to Sita and the Phantom Thief of Hearts, but she knew that the right place for her was snugly in the middle of this matching set. Of course, once the trio had reached the prison block, she looked down to see that both of her hands were empty, and the twins were several paces ahead of her, having a conversation of their own that they apparently didn’t feel the need to involve her in. Figures. The prison block of Air Force Zero was as much a prison block as one could imagine. Once Tsurumi and the twins stepped through the block's singular door in or out, they were met with the sight of rows of cells on either side of a long hallway, most of which were currently unoccupied, and the MIRROR agents that sat in the few exceptions didn’t seem to be in much of a talking mood at present. Patrolling around the cells were armed guards, who seemed to be chattering amongst themselves over the recent break-in that had been mentioned. “It really is like nobody broke in,” Fay mused to herself, already making her way to one of the guards. “And off goes Detective Fay,” May sighed. “She loves mystery shit like this.” “Did they take anything? It doesn’t look like anyone was injured.” Tsurumi held a hand to her chin, looking around for any kind of clue, which undoubtedly she was incapable of finding herself. “Not much here to take, far as I know. The doors use machines to open and close too, so you can’t even hold the keys for ransom since we don’t have any.” “Then what’s the goal?” Tsurumi froze, in a combination of excitement and terror, “AN ASSASSINATION???” “Oooh, that would be a spicy plot! Some sinister ghost-man breaks into the fortress, out to finish what the thwarted villains of MIRROR have started! And his only hope for survival is…” “Please don’t drag our new friends into your delusions,” Fay sighed, returning to the pair, and holding out for them, a long, silver piece of hair. “Here’s our hair. If we bring it back to Dayna, she’ll be able to tell us more about the head it came from.” “From just the hair?” “Mhm. It’s hard to describe, but she can see information, as if everything around her has sticky notes telling her all about it.” Opening up the trusty sketchbook once more, Fay further elaborated while sketching, “For example, you can’t see what I’m drawing. But if Dayna saw the sketchbook’s back side, she’d be able to–” “It’s a dolphin,” May interrupted. “And that is a cheating rat,” Fay groaned, casting a disdainful glare at her twin. “Point being, she’d see what’s on the open page of the sketchbook, even if she can only see the cover on the back.” “It’s how she cheats at cards, too,” May added. “She just looks at the cards in your hand, and knows exactly what you’re holding. Or she can look at the deck and see what order the rest of the cards are stacked in. It’s completely unfair!” “Wait, Dayna is the redhead? So her getting spooked by Tarzan means…” “Whatever she saw, it must have been very unusual.” “She’s usually more the type to wanna dissect your powers than get spooked by them. Like a frog! A very big frog.”
  6. Tsurumi was corralled onto the airship, and try as she might, she quickly lost track of the route they had taken within. Gonna have a hell of a time finding an escape route it if comes to it… She knew that if she decided to cut and run, they would catch her before she was out of Chicago, and she suspected she wouldn’t be afforded the forgiveness that had already been put on the table. Was the tag even worth all this? Absolutely it was. She raised a shrouded eyebrow when she say a blade of ornamental grass on the floor of the hall, but chose not to say anything as she passed it by. It wasn’t long before the group had reached a small lobby, Tsurumi was pretty sure the sign on the door had said 2A. Tsurumi sat quietly, doing her best not to fidget as the Secretary of Defense, named something as disarmingly youthful as Austin, recruited the political envoy that also happened to be a ten foot tall dinosaur, and then a weasley young man managed to talk his way out of the suicide mission. This seemed like a good idea to Tsurumi. Of course, as he stood, his shoulder bag that had most unfortuitously been left unzipped spilled forth its contents. As the paintings and surprisingly fashionable mask clattered to the ground, the conversation came to an abrupt halt. Tsurumi reckoned that she'd be able to hear a pin drop as those collected in the room all simultaneously pieced together the implication of contents of the man's bag. Suddenly, he turned to Tsurumi, taking hold of both of her hands in his own, "We must flee, my origami princess! The law-man may be after us, but I know that we can live a beautiful life on the run if we keep our wits about us!" Tsurumi’s eyes sparkled as she struggled to catch her breath. Was the young maiden going to abandon her shining opportunity to go straight (at least in the moral sense) with the gorgeous jock Sita, for this Phantom Thief of Hearts? Fortunately, or unfortunately, this was not a decision Tsurumi had to make as she was slammed back into reality by the law-man strong-arming the thief into his task force. It was then that she realized her own precarious legal situation, and the corner it may have backed her into. She tapped her foot nervously as Sita joined up as well, before she was left as the only available bachelorette in the room. "So... That ultimatum the phantom thief was given... If my friend Sita had recently committed a crime, would she similarly be forced into joining?" Tsurumi fidgeted some more, avoiding eye contact with Sita, "I mean, of course she's already on board, she's just as brave as the day I met her, but... Hypothetically, is that how that would play out?" "Hey!" Sita remarked, casting a glance at Tsurumi. She didn't seem mad about it, more surprised than anything. "That depends on the crime," Austin said, after a moment to consider it. "If she murdered somebody, for example, we wouldn't even give her the chance to join us as an out from jail. But on the flipside, if it was something like serial littering, we'd probably just throw her out with a warning if she didn't want in. Fortunately, she's not a criminal as far as we know, and she'll be seeing the world with us to try and put a stop to MIRROR of her own free will." "So... If hypothetically, Sita was a vandal..." "We'd let her go with a fine." "And how significant would this fine be..?" "That depends, too. Worst case scenario, if she did something like defaced government property, she'd be losing at least a thousand dollars." Now, for many, such a fine would be an inconvenience. For a 23-year-old jobless college dropout, such an expense would be back-breaking. She probably would have to serve it out rather than pay it off. "I'll join up, just to keep Sita out of trouble." "I'm not in trouble though," Sita huffed, putting her foot down on Tsurumi's toes. Lightly, so as to not hurt her. Much to her surprise, the toes flattened under Sita's foot, despite putting no real force into it. It must have been related to Tsurumi's power somehow. Tsurumi gave her a sly grin, as her foot returned to its normal shape, lightly poking hers back.
  7. “Such a shame.” Sai pointed a finger at the ground before him lightly, then twisted his arm and curled the finger upward. Up from the ground sprung tall shining grass, with feathery plumes. Pushing his full body through the veil of grass, Sai immediately found himself standing face to face with the mountain of a man, having raised himself above the ground high enough that they were at eye level with each other. “I’m not hostile” he said, holding a hand between the two as if to halt the giant. As he spoke, he raised his right hand, making a subtle circular gesture in the air. In an instant, the failing portions of the stage structure were rebuilt and reinforced, with haphazardly strewn scaffolding holding up portions that were about to collapse, all with a decidedly Japanese style of architecture. Billowing flags depicting purple irises unfurled from the highest beam, catching each of the thrown civilians and gently rolling them down to the surface of the stage. “Do you have any inkling as to what is occuring?” Iroas looked over to the President. The President only gave a small nod of approval. With a nod of his own, Iroas turned back to Sai. “We seem to be under attack by a terrorist group called MIRROR, and their target is the president.” He explained, his eyes darting to the side so he could keep an eye on said terrorists. “I presume this group has branches around the world?” “If I understood the debriefing correctly, yeah.” “That explains quite a lot. Your boss seems to have an above-average level of preparation. Did you clock where the gunfire came from?” Iroas nodded, pointing over to his left side. “It came from somewhere over there.” He began to squint, noticing something a little off. “There’s a girl making a break for it, but the way she’s running isn't like everyone else. She isn’t scared.” “Hm…” Sai glanced over, seeing the pink-haired bounty hunter already taking pursuit, “it appears that that one is already managed. In that case…” looking out over the crowd, Sai’s attention was caught by the girl who appeared to be terrified, yet was not fleeing. Without a word, he gestured lightly with a finger, and the same grass from before sprung up from the stage. With a step, he had fully passed through the grass, and was gone as abruptly as he had arrived. Sai reappeared in front of the frightened girl and smiled, immediately taking hold of her face in his outstretched hand. With a push, he plunged her through his veil of grass, and the pair was immediately hovering about 10 yards up in the air, directly above their previous location. Below them was a platform of cherry blossoms, not unlike what he had stood upon previously, though this time he had created ample space for the both of them. Despite his aggressive approach, he released her gently so that she could stand before him. “Hello there. You can call me Sai. What’s your name?” With the teleportation of the girl, and the resulting breaking of her focus, the arms threatening to tear apart the presidential stage broke away into nothing. A short-lived victory at ground-level, however, as with another command from the man commanding the arms that had just moments ago thrown civilians at the stage picked up where their ilk had left off, grabbing at the stage and pulling with a less wild, more thought-out intent of ripping the stage’s front pillars out. Back on Sai’s platform, meanwhile, the girl’s focus was on reacquainting herself with her surroundings. And promptly realizing she was several yards in the air, and very at the mercy of whoever had whisked her away to this platform. And if he could do such things just like that… “GET ME DOWN FROM HERE,” she shouted, scanning the crowd below, seemingly searching for something, or perhaps someone, and taking whatever steps back she could without teetering over the edge. “You're working with them aren't you?!” The scattering wisps of mist that once formed arms threatening the stage - along with a new outpouring of the stuff from the girl’s own body - coalesced on the ground beneath the platform, gathering and building, shaping and towering. Behind the girl, the mist had re-shaped into what - aside from its size - could be considered a bear, though its form was gnarled and twisted into the territory of something that wasn't “a bear” so much as “what might be left of a bear after meeting a much bigger, very angry bear.” Paying no mind to the entity that was forming beneath the pair, Sai extended the cherry blossoms under the girl's feet as she stepped backward, careful not to let her fall. “I’m not working with anyone, aside from doing my best to keep people from getting hurt.” He took a half step forward, gently raising both of his hands and lowering his center of gravity as one would when approaching a frightened animal, “I don’t want you to get hurt either. I saw you looked scared, so I took you up here, away from all that violence.” For the first time since the sound of gunfire, the panicked, fearful expression left the girl’s face, and with it, the bear that would have otherwise brought its titanic weight to bear upon Sai’s platform disappeared into nothing. “...and maybe I was down there to cause all that violence,” she said, with a stern expression that looked as if her facial muscles had never made such a face before and weren't sure how to do it right. “I know you were. That’s why I am so concerned about you.” Sai sat down, crossing his legs as his hair billowed past the edges of the platform. “Though, you haven’t answered my question yet.” “Official MIR--... ahem, official group protocol is to not give our names to anyone. Our boss said that goes double for me. So my lips are sealed.” With a resigned huff, the girl sat down as well, not looking at the chaos below, but still scanning the outer edges of the crowd. “Don’t worry, I know about MIRROR. You’ve all been busy this centennial, haven't you?” Sai paused, as if thinking for a moment, “do you enjoy tea?” A look of genuine surprise struck the girl’s face, though she waves off the offer for tea, seeming uninterested in the drink. “It sounds like you know a lot more about us than anyone else should right now. We have had suspicions that there’s a mole in the ranks…” “Oh I assure you that I know nothing of that, I only heard the name of your friends a few seconds before we met. It does make sense though. I’ve just been in attendance of more crashed parties than I’d prefer.” With a shrug, Sai twirled a finger, and a steaming teapot appeared in his hand. He tilted the pot to pour, and before the tea could splash onto the cherry blossoms, a small plate with a pair of cups appeared to catch the liquid. “I figured I would pour you a cup just in case you change your mind.” “Well, since you seem to have somehow attended most of our attacks, I do want closure on this and don’t want to wait until I’m back at base if I can get the answer now. The Russian attack. Is the man in charge…” The girl made a cutting motion across her neck with her thumb. “I propose an exchange of information. I tell you how things went, if you first tell me what I should call you.” Sai smiled warmly, taking a sip from his cup and pushing the plate forward so she could reach her own. “I know it’s against the rules for you to tell me your true name, but I would at least like something to call you, for my own internal perspective. Is there a name you fancy?”
  8. JUNE 11TH, 2030, 12:05 P.M. A girl sat in a chair on the inside of the plane, twirling her parted bangs nervously, paying a special attention that one would had they done up their hair in a way they weren’t accustomed to. “Tazumi Nanashi?” “Ah! Yes! That’s me!” The girl lurched to her feet, though her movements made it look almost like she was carrying a heavy load, despite appearing to only be wearing a simple black and white jumpsuit, with a hoodie underneath. “Sorry sir, had my head in the- AHEM” she cleared her throat, as her voice started drifting into a different tone than the one she had started with, “sorry, had my head in the clouds! Hear that one a lot?” The instructor, or chaperone, or whatever precisely his job title was, seemed unamused. “Your jump time is thirty seconds ago. Have you checked both chutes?” “Thirty seconds?? SHIT-” without giving any indication of an answer, she had leaped out of the plane. She was plummeting, tilting her body down to increase speed and make up for lost time. She could see her target, Air Force Zero, extending its landing year and making its final descent below her. Alright, let’s hope this all works as planned… 8000 feet 5000 feet 2500 feet 1000 feet Forming her left hand, she struck herself in the center of her face, and her entire body, from the top of her head down, folded inward. With only a few more folds, her entire body had transformed into a full-scale Canada goose, seemingly made out of paper. Catching the wind on her folded wings, she started a high-pace glide, heading toward Air Force Zero at a high velocity. ~~~~~ “Hey, Tom, you see that?” One of the gunners posted atop Air Force Zero nudged her comrade’s shoulder, pointing toward the quickly-approaching psychic in the air, “dumbass bird is flying right at us.” Tom nodded, without looking up, his attention absorbed by the newspaper he was reading, “Damn Geri, didn’t know they had birds around here, good catch…” “Should we shoot it down?” “No, it’s a bird.” ~~~~~ 100 feet With a swoop forward, the origami goose unfolded back into the girl, who immediately pulled the cord on her parachute. Luckily, as she pulled a small folded rectangle out of her pocket, the parachute deployed properly and immediately slowed her forward momentum, causing her legs to swing forward. The rectangle from the girl’s pocket unfolded into a sharp-edged stencil that she stuck to the soles of her shoes. A series of tight accordion folds extended like a pair of springs on her sneakers, launching the stencil forward, colliding with the hull of Air Force Zero with an audible SMACK. Using the last bit of her forward momentum, the girl unzipped her jumpsuit, grabbing hold of either side and flapping them back and forth, as a storm of dozens of paper cranes flew out of the inner workings of her garment. The birds all flew forward toward the stencil, unfolding at the last moment into their original forms of what would appear to be colorful water balloons. As the vessels of paint struck the hull of Air Force Zero, aimed vaguely at the deposited stencil, the girl pushed back on the accordion falls, unhitched her parachute, and disappeared into the crowd below. After several seconds of paint dripping, the stencil fell down to the ground, revealing the vandal’s work. ~~~~~~ JUNE 11TH, 2030, 1:45 P.M. LOCATION: DUNK TANK Sports-ball “So you’re telling me, all I have to do to win one of those prizes is hit that target to knock him into the water? And even if it takes me one or two extra tries I still get a smaller prize?” A girl that bore absolutely no resemblance whatsoever to the vandal who put graffiti up on Air Force Zero on such a momentous day as the centennial of The Crisis tapped at her chin, her eyes hidden behind thick black bangs. “Yup! All for a dollar! Up for the challenge?” The man held a suspiciously full bucket of money, considering how dry the heckler above the tank was and how many prizes were still on the shelf. One with a discerning eye may have caught on that there was something up with this carnival game in particular. “Count me in! I’ve already picked out my future prize!” the girl practically forced the dollar into the cashier’s hand as she grabbed three tennis balls. This should be easy enough. you already pulled off the tag of a lifetime, a simple carnival game is a joke for a smooth operator like you, Tsurumi. She set two of the tennis balls down on the ground, and took a stance that she remembered seeing a pitcher take when she saw a baseball game with her family years ago. Of course, she had never herself played the sport in her life, and as she went for the pitch, she stepped forward with the wrong foot. This prevented her from translating the momentum of her body weight into her arm, and as she let loose the ball, it hardly made it halfway to the target about ten paces away. In fact, even if she had the power necessary for the throw, it looked like she was about 20 degrees off of target. “YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!” The heckler laughed so hard that he nearly fell into the water on his own, slapping his knee. “I thought you already picked out your prize! I hope it wasn’t one from the top shelf!” Despite her hair blocking direct line of sight, Tsurumi glared daggers at the heckler, picking up her second ball in a huff. She got into the pitching stance again, and this time decided to mix things up and stepped forward with the correct foot as she followed through on the throw. While the improved balance made sure that the ball went in the correct direction, she still had not managed to muster the power to actually get the ball all the way there. The ball sat in the grass, about 5 feet away from the target. “You know the target is way up here, right? You don’t get bonus points for hitting the ground kid. Come on, aren’t you going to try to redeem yourself and win something small on the last throw?” She had had just about enough of this guy. Alright. Time to hit these jackasses with MAXIMUM EFFORT. It’s like you hear in stories, the hero fails twice before finally succeeding on the third try! There wouldn’t be any dramatic stakes if the hero of the story just won right off the bat. I’m the hero, and “I’VE GOT THIS!!!” THIRTY SECONDS LATER “WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN IT DOESN’T COUNT IF I DON’T HIT THE TARGET HARD ENOUGH TO PRESS THE BUTTON” “Listen, girl, I don’t make the rules.” “YOU LITERALLY MAKE THE RULES. YOU JUST WROTE THAT RULE ONTO THE SIGN AFTER MY BALL BOUNCED OFF THE TARGET.” “It wasn’t something I expected would be needed, most people have more upper body strength.” After a deep breath through gritted teeth, the girl let out a stunted growl toward the man in the dunk tank, as well as the man who took her money, then stomped off to watch as more and more people failed. Albeit not for the same reason she did. It had been nearly fifteen minutes before a blue haired girl in a cute jacket stepped up to the challenge. The first two throws went the same as each other attempt she had witnessed, veering off at the last second due to what she could only assume to be bizarre wind conditions. But as the mystery girl looked up at the sun, Tsurumil knew something was different with this one. “Hurry up, lady, clock's tickin'!” The ball was airborne. “STRIKE THRE-” The man was under the water. Childish Dreams As Tsurumi watched the victorious pitcher claim a prize, she found herself blushing. The mysterious girl of incredible ability claimed a toy penguin that even came with a sticker, and was walking straight toward the girl who couldn’t even throw hard enough for the target to register a hit. “Here, I saw how they were so mean to you, and decided to win this for you.” The girl was charitable as well as athletic! “I figured you would like the penguin, I thought the black and white design was cute. Just like yours.” The sentiment was nearly enough to make the girl faint, as all the blood left her brain and went directly to her cheeks, but after a few moments of basking in the idea, she turned around, seeing the winner walking away, penguin in tow. Tsurumi found herself once again caught in a maladaptive daydream. Hot Pursuit Tsurumi followed behind this mysterious girl for a few minutes, until she found the girl at a stand selling frozen treats. ADORABLE TASTE. Tsurumi patiently waited from the shadows, as the girl ordered a cone of soft-serve. Before the heroic pitcher had a chance to pay for her ice cream, she was gently struck in the side of the head by a small paper airplane. “Mm?” Sita turned her head in the direction of the paper airplane, plucking it out of its descent and turning her eyes toward the source. From the opposite side in which she turned to look, Tsurumi ducked forward, dropping a messy wad of cash into the hand of the cashier. “Hiya!” “Oh, hi!” Sita turned around to be met with a friendly face. Holding out the paper airplane, she commented “I think you dropped this? Or... no... because it came from that side. I'll have to find the owner.” She's dumb too! I found a cute jock type! “I'm sure it's nothing to be concerned about! Just like the bill for that ice cream!” Tsurumi turned back to the cashier, pulling another wadded bill from her purse, “and that'll be a lemon popsicle for me!” Having received a snack of her own, she brought her attention back to the dumb pitcher. “It's the least I could do after you put that dunk tank bastard in his place!” “Oh, that! I thought something was fishy after the first pitch, but after the second one I knew he was cheating. So, I... miiiiiiiiiight have cheated a little bit myself. But that's our secret, as fellow victims of his scam.” Sita winked at her generous ice cream donor. She got to put a dirty stinking cheater in his place, and it looked like she was making a fast friend too! What a wonderful day! The wink was all but enough to floor Tsurumi, but she managed to contain herself to a momentary blush. “Wait, you're saying he cheated??” “I'm sure he did!” Putting up her ice cream cone as if it were the target of the dunk tank, and slowly moving her other hand toward it, she explained “When I did my second pitch, I took care to aim it perfectly and everything. But then…” Sita stopped her empty hand in its path, moving it in a completely different direction. “The ball totally changed directions, in a way that should be impossible! If he himself wasn't the cheater, he's definitely got a buddy who's in on it.” “No wonder I didn't manage to knock him down!” Tsurumi forced her popsicle handle into the girl's empty hand, before taking hold of her right shoulder and moving her arm in a circular motion she had seen athletes do before, “I'm something of an ace pitcher myself!” Her charade finished, she casually took her new friend's half-eaten cone of soft serve, as if it were the treat she had handed off moments ago. “Wait, that one's mine,” Sita said, reaching out for her ice cream and extending the newly-popsicle-held hand out as well. Tsurumi froze, her mouth already open to take a bite. If I go for it now, I can play it off as not having heard her. She pondered the option for a second, before realizing that her hesitation made it more than clear she heard. Frantically, she switched the two treats back to their rightful owners, “So it is! Almost made a mistake there hahaha! Nothing gets by you, does it?” “You get an eye for little things like that living the nomad life.” With a smile, Sita took a bite out of her ice cream, gesturing just behind her to her trusty scooter. “You get real perceptive real quick in that lifestyle. Oh, sidenote, you wouldn't happen to know a mechanic who could fix this thing, would you? I don't actually know what's wrong with it, though.” “A nomad, eh? You got a place to stay these days?” Tsurumi said, completely ignoring the question in an effort to advance her own ulterior motive. “This is my place to stay,” Sita grinned. Pointing out to the horizon behind her, Sita enthused “The sky's my ceiling, and the grass is my carpet floor. It's the best way to live, if you ask me. Everyone should try it once in a while! It's like camping, but more.” LOCATION: ELSEWHERE ON THE FAIRGROUNDS Among the hustle and bustle of the festival, walked a person who would stand out in any crowd. He was clearly visible from a distance away, as he was both quite tall, and did not walk upon the ground. Instead, each of his footsteps was met by a small platform of cherry blossoms that manifested into existence about six inches above the ground, so that his bare feet never touched the ground beneath him. His robes trailed behind him, flowing through the air as if it were water, completely unfettered by gravity. He turned his head, looking toward Air Force Zero, the crowd around it thickening as everyone awaited the President’s address. “I wonder if this shall differ…”
  9. [Paper Moon] "Really, officer, I swear I had nothing to do with this! I work right down the street and was passing by on my lunch break!" [Name:] Tsurumi Sessho (摂政 鶴見) [Age:] 23 [Appearance:] [Height:] 155 cm (5'1") [Weight:] 48 kg (106 lbs) [Personality:] Impish and incorrigible, Tsurumi is determined to leave her mark on the world - even in places she doesn't have permission to mark. She balks at authority, even if she knows that doing so might put her in danger, and frequently finds herself well out of place. In conversation, Tsurumi is quick witted and biting, and it can often be difficult to tell how she feels about someone, because she teases and insults most people all the same, may it be an expression of admiration or aggression. If the answer to the question "Wait, where is Tsurumi?" is ever "I don't know" then watch out: she's getting into trouble. [Abilities:] "Shape the world into one where you fit in" Tsurumi's psychic ability is expressed through a hobby she picked up at a young age as the child of Japanese immigrants: origami. She is able to fold any object, living or nonliving (though unwilling psychics are naturally resistant), that she touches into whatever shape she wishes. This effect ignores traditional physical limitations such as volume or rigidity, and allows her to perform a great deal of minor tricks. The truly miraculous factor of Tsurumi's fold ability, is that when she folds up a creation that takes the form of something living, it takes on the aspects of that organism. In most cases, this results in living origami animals, but there are other applications such as plants. As menacing as these creations may appear to be, they are as harmless as a paper tiger. In addition to her psychic abilities, Tsurumi is an extremely skilled and experienced artist, her preferred medium being rattle-can spraypaint. game [Ryūjin] "Unshackle yourself" [Name:] Sai (最) [Age:] 31 [Appearance:] [Height:] 188 cm (6'2") [Weight:] 68 kg (150 lbs) [Personality:] Sai is a person who refuses to be told who he is by anyone else, and is insistent upon everyone else reaching a similar level of self-discovery. While he comes off as eccentric and insulting, he strives to make sure everyone is happier than they were before he crossed their path. [Abilities:] The precise nature, as well as the full potential of Sai's abilities are unclear. Some from Kabukichō believe he may be as powerful as the Emperor, though such belief is uncommon on a wider scale. f
  10. Hanging from the bent antenna with one hand, a figure silhouetted by the setting sun looked down upon Old New York City. The building was once known as the Empire State Building, but the city was now the center of an entirely different, not to mention more sinister, empire. Politicians and penny-pinchers all replaced with cold, unfeeling steel. And at the top of it all, the Uru Overlord himself, Ultron. The silhouette scoffed. Today was gonna be a bad day for the Big Bithead. Releasing his grip, the figure fell down into the shadows between buildings. Goblin on the Streets Spider-Goblin plummeted through the air, breathing in the city. His eyes were closed, but he could feel the city around him, he knew it by heart. The Building Formerly Known as Avengers Tower was less than two miles away, but Oren knew that the surface would be crawling with drones. As much as he’d like to just swing down 5th Avenue, it wasn’t an option. Oren had almost reached the ground when he felt the ZAP on his left - “Cyber-sense is buzzing…” Extending an arm outward, two tethers fired from the knuckles on his glove, embedding themselves in a long-since stripped flagpole. The tethers released almost instantaneously, reeling themselves back into Spider-Goblin’s glove, but the touch and go contact was just enough to alter his downward trajectory. Just in time to avoid the sight of a quadcopter, as Oren disappeared behind the long since deactivated body of a Sentry robot that was slumped against a building. Spider-Goblin didn’t touch the ground as he used his tether-shooter to swing down through an entrance into the subway. Oren hated the subway, but it was the best way to get through town. While he could probably sneak past the drones by carefully crawling, Mason was very clear that the “gizmo” had to be at the drop site in time for pickup. And time was something Oren didn’t have. Reaching into his bag, Oren pulled out a folded metal contraption, tossing it out in front of him. Rather than hit the ground, it hovered in place, making use of a repulsor array on its underside. With a hop, Spider-Goblin mounted the glider, and began rocketing off through the tunnel. Fortunately, much of the original wiring still lined the tunnels, and enough of these wires were live that Oren’s cyber-sense could guide him once he had gone far enough that his vision gave out. The lenses of his mask were equipped with night vision, but the infrared light involved would be just as visible to Ultron’s drones as it would be to him. No worries Osborn, you’re not a kid anymore. You got over your fear of the dark weeks ago. Navigating in the pitch black, Oren traced the city streets in his head until he could feel it. He was underneath The Building Formerly Known as Avengers Tower. Even after the metalhead put that huge “U” on it, the rebrand never really stuck. Opening his bag, his spider glider folded itself up once again and returned to its designated place, as Oren righted himself to stand upside-down from the ceiling. He could feel just how tightly packed all the tech above was. This was Ultron’s treasure trove, full of the most valuable and advanced devices he has acquired in his conquest of Earth. Fitting to be keeping it in the center of what was once his enemy’s headquarters. Fitting, and stupid. Arrogant son of a glitch would have smelted it all away if he knew what was good for him. Oren could take what he wanted, use it to upgrade his suit and glider. But he couldn’t afford that kind of risk. The tinkerer back in the encampment needed that goober, and Spider-Goblin was the only one who could retrieve it. “Let’s go. In and out. 20 seconds heist.” Tossing another item, a steel ball, from his pack up onto the ceiling, it stuck in place, glowing bright blue through seams within. After a few seconds, it rolled around in a circle about a meter wide, and with a crackling light it cut through the ceiling, and floor above, allowing it to drop through to the ground of the subway tunnel as a neat disc, the only hint at Spider-Goblin’s infiltration being a wince-inducing crash of concrete against steel rails. Regardless of his nervousness, Oren knew he didn’t have much time to work with, and hopped up through his spider-hole into the vault. It was full of gadgets and weapons Oren had only heard rumors about, ranging from an ancient-looking hammer with a severed, orange skinned hand still clinging to it, to a dozen or so intact Iron Man suits of armor. Despite all these wonders, Oren was sent here to retrieve a small box, perhaps the size one would expect to keep jewelry in. His cyber-sense made the circuitry within easy enough to detect, and he found his quarry placed nicely upon a small pedestal. He stepped gingerly toward the box, making sure not to trip any pressure sensors in the floor. After a deep breath, Oren picked up the goober, and stood still, fully expecting some form of unseen alarm to be tripped. After a five-second eternity, Oren shrugged, turning around and taking a step back toward his escape tunnel. With luck befitting Peter Parker himself, it was then that the alarm went off, a siren that Oren could tell was audible even as far as outside. “Shock.” Spider in the Sheets “SPIDERRRRRRRRR” With his cyber-sense practically overloaded in this room so packed full of tech, Spider-Goblin’s regular old spider-sense momentarily failed him. Crashing through an adjacent wall came the hulking form of Rhino, colliding with Oren and sending him straight through a wall, directly out into Columbus Circle, gaudy central statue of Ultron and all. “Aren’t I shocking lucky? I get to prance around with Ultron’s pet unicorn!” Scrambling to his feet, Spider-Goblin pulled a small metal device from his pack and threw it at Rhino. The device separated into eight pieces in mid-air, all connected by wire to form a web-like net. As it blanketed over Rhino, a powerful electric pulse surged through it, visible arcing against the villain’s armor. Of course, such a tool only served to tickle Rhino, as he tore it off with a laugh. “Foolish Spider, I am no unicorn! I am the RHINO!” Once again, he charged toward Oren, this time pointing his horn forward with intent to skewer the hero. “Yeah, yeah, I know Aleksei. Guess the enhancements from your boss didn’t include boosted brainpower?” As Oren desperately clutched the goober in his left arm, he pointed his right fist toward the rubble left behind from his dramatic exit. All four tethers fired out, latching onto a gauntlet from one of the suits of Iron Man armor that had been knocked apart in the tussle. Retracting it, the gauntlet fit right above his glove. Alright, Osborn. Spider power plus repulsor power, hope that’s enough… Sliding low beneath Rhino’s fast-approaching horn, Spider-Goblin sprung up from the ground, and using the rear-facing repulsors in the gauntlet for extra force, threw an uppercut haymaker right at Rhino’s jaw. “Here, maybe this will knock some sense into you!” The punch landed solidly, and even with the Rhino’s adamantium-infused skeleton it was enough to ring true and knock him out for the count, as the lumbering brute stumbled backward and collapsed. Oren stood up, passing the goober to his fancy new armored hand, and began to dust himself off, “One of these days I’m going to be lucky enough to be able to run an evening errand without having to risk life and liZARD!!!” Spider-Goblin dropped back and performed a backward somersault, as the jagged form of what was once Dr Curtis Connors dove over him. Kicking up with both feet, he launched the Lizard into the unconscious Russian cyborg nearby, but had to do a double-take as Lizard scrambled back to his feet and immediately flickered out of visibility. “Invisibility? Wasn’t the whole chameleon thing someone else’s gimmick, Dr. Connors?” Before Oren could use his cyber-sense to track down the hiding reptilian villain, he felt the typical buzz that meant danger was incoming. Hopping up to his feet, Oren was greeted with a stream of acid that burned an inch-deep hole in the concrete where he lay a split second ago. “Hey, Mac. Cheese not able to make it tonight?” Seemingly unwilling to engage with the hero’s attempt at humor, Scorpion jumped down from his perch above, charging toward Oren. Scorpion’s first attack was with his tail, naturally, but Oren tossed the goober up into the air and deflected the blow with the palm of his unarmored hand. Scorpion took a wild enraged swing at Spider-Goblin with his enlarged claw, which Oren ducked under. “Hey Scorpion, wanna see a cool party trick?” “Eh??” Spider-Goblin placed his armored palm against Scorpion’s chest. “Boop.” Activating the repulsor, Oren launched Scorpion back and into the statue of Ultron, satisfyingly managing to knock it down. “On second thought, hold the cheese. Looks like you’re plenty grilled already.” Taking a half-step backward, Oren pulled a pumpkin bomb out of his pack as the Lizard’s elongated tongue zipped past him, before sticking the explosive onto its tip on the way back, “Your entree, doctor,” Spider-Goblin made a showy bow as the tongue retracted from whence it came, catching the falling goober in his hand. He paid no mind to the following explosion. The Lizard was probably fine, Ultron liked fixing his dolls whenever they ended up breaking. Oren hardly had a chance to catch his breath before a multitude of caped fishbowl-wearing lunatics flickered into existence around him. While holograms wouldn’t normally be a concern for Spider-Goblin, Shi’ar hard light technology made them considerably more threatening. One Mysterio to Rule Them All floated above them about fifty feet up. “Bow before the wonder of my MYSTIC DUPLICATION!” Oren raised an eyebrow so hard that it managed to be visible through body language alone, “Come the shock on man, you know you’re not magic, I know you’re not magic, you know I know you’re not magic.” With a wince, Oren’s own body flickered slightly as a second one of himself stepped from the position of the first. “Tell you what, how about we match that with a bit of quantum duplication!” The duplicate cupped both of his hands, as the Oren who carried the goober hopped up, locking his heel within his own superpositioned palms. With a single concerted effort of jumping and throwing, Oren launched himself up into the air. “Show’s over Mysterio,” performing a mid-air frontflip, Oren brought his heal down onto Mysterio’s domed head with a heavy axe kick. “time for you to bow out!” Before Oren could reacquire his bearing and attempt to swing away, he was plucked out of the sky by a man in an enormous flight rig. Vulture’s mechanical claws held Oren tightly as the pair ascended through the air, up above the city skyline into open air. “Thanks for picking me up, Toomes, I’m headed over to Midtown. You can just let me off once we get in the neighborhood, I don’t want the meter to run too long.” The old man in the bird costume responded with nothing but a metallic snarl, when Oren felt his spider-sense clawing at the back of his mind, the screech of what could be a lethal blow. Wrenching his unarmored hand free from the Vulture’s claw, he fired his tethers into the far end of the left wing, yanking it inward just in time to block a large steel bolt fired from the arm of Kraven, who was posted upon a rooftop below. Oren could see Kraven beginning to reload for another shot, but the first bolt struck a vital part of Vulture’s flight harness, resulting in the pair entering what was quickly becoming a death spiral. Oren could see the drop point for the goober in the distance - the antenna from which he scouted out this heist - but he knew he couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. Kicking off with both legs, Spider-Goblin pushed his way out of the Vulture’s remaining claw, suddenly finding himself in freefall with nothing to swing from. Pulling out his spider-glider, he tossed it below him, allowing it to unfold as his feet latched into place. With one last profane gesture back at Kraven and the Vulture, Spider-Goblin rocketed off toward the drop point. It was at that moment that some kind of weird thing happened. It would be fair to say that weird things happened to Spider-Goblin a lot, but this was real weird. An enormous bubbling black hole appeared in the sky above Old New York City right in front of Oren’s flight path. Even though he veered away, he could feel it sucking him in. Oren could see the drop point, with the tinker-built drone ready to receive the goober, but the longer he revved the engine on his glider, the further he slid back into that black hole. “Sorry Mason, looks like you’re gonna have to figure out the rest without your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Goblin.” Removing the red and gold gauntlet from his right hand, he placed the goober within it grip, set the repulsors to max thrust, and released it toward the drop point. Cutting the power to his glider, Oren Osborn was pulled… INTO THE SPIDER-VERSE When Nate Richards explained the idea of the Chronal Abductor to Oren, he had a retrospectively fitting model he used to describe the intricacies of a time stream. As events occur, as chaos theory does its thing and produces unexpected results, branching paths are created. Things become more complicated when it is considered that in some realities, time itself is different. While it may be 2014 in one world, it could be 2099 in another, and yet both worlds coexist. The connective tissue of the multiverse goes in every direction, sticking together anything that has, is, or could happen in an extraordinary Web of Life and Destiny. And now Oren found himself plummeting through this web, at alarming speed. He attempted to use the repulsor engine of his glider to course correct, but whatever had pulled him in seemed to do so with more of a plan than he felt particularly comfortable with. TWOING!! Oren's shoulder knocked against one of the threads of this bizarre web, and for a split second Oren could swear he heard echoes of Vaudeville music - not that he'd have any chance of recognizing it as such. A wing of his glider hit another thread, causing him to go into an uncontrolled spin while a roar like that of a 100-meter tall Japanese lizard echoed through every atom of his body, a shriek of confused interpretation of nuclear allegories. Afraid he would lose track of it in the chaos, Oren snapped his fingers, signaling for the glider to fold up and return to its place in his pack. Despite Spider-Goblin's best attempt at smooth travels, he had several more collisions on the way to his unintended destination, catching glimpses of spider-people ranging from an orange-haired woman in skating gear to a cartoon cat, but before he had a chance to make any sense of these visions he was jettisoned through a portal not unlike the one that had sucked him in only seconds earlier. Oren was in freefall, coming down toward a city that he had never been to before. It wasn't too far from home, but he could tell everything here was a little… wrong by the sensibilities he had acquired over his last twenty-two years. Redeploying his glider, he perched atop it and looked down upon this strange, wrong world. “So this must be Jersey, eh?”
  11. [It's not so easy being...] “You’ve gotta be shocking kidding me…” Name: Oren Osborn: The Indomitable Spider-Goblin of Earth-204577 Age: 22 [Appearance:] Height: 6' SUIT TO BE ADDED LATER [History:] “We’re doing this again? Alright then, but take notes this time, there will be a quiz. My name is Oren Osborn I was bitten by a time-traveling spider, and for these last four years I’ve been the one and only Spider-Goblin. I’m from Old New York City in the year 2099, got a feeling you know the rest. Learned how to use these sweet new powers, salvaged some old tech and got a suit put together. I wasn’t able to save my friend and ally Franklin when the tin cans showed up and destroyed the time machine, but now I’m here to wrench the Big Apple out from under its oppressor’s polished boot, one destroyed drone at a time. Maybe two, if I’m really pushing myself. Every day is a fight for survival for the people here in ONYC who aren’t plugged into that AI, but I’m as scrappy as the rest of them. Because no matter how many times that shocking smartfridge knocks me down, I always get back up. Because I’m the only thing standing in Ultron’s way, I’m the last hero on Earth.” [Unabridged:] In the year 2095, Earth-204577 has been conquered by Ultron, a rogue AI that was once developed by the mad scientist Hank Pym. Pym is long since dead, killed by his own creation. The overwhelming majority of humanity has been converted into cyborg abominations and jacked into the collective consciousness, serving as slaves to Ultron. In the underground of Old New York City, a resistance hides and waits for a chance to fight back, but with Ultron’s mutant genocide in the 2050s and the targeted destruction of any other enhanced individuals the world has been left without heroes. A brilliant scientist and inventor by the name of Franklin Richards devises a plan to try to acquire backup, and creates the Chronal Abductor. While Richards figured he could probably create a chronal escape pod, he knew that doing such would be abandoning those left in ONYC. Instead, his dubiously ethical device was built to pull a target from earlier in the time stream into the year 2095, without disrupting the chain of events or leading to a paradox that could potentially destroy the world. Using salvage gathered by his friend Oren Osborn, Richards constructed this device within the abandoned Alchemax headquarters, making use of its still-functional on-site nuclear fusion reactor for power. Accompanied only by Oren, Richards activated the machine, electing to first target a generally unimportant organism in case things go disastrously wrong. The random organism selected was a spider. Eight legs made it sufficiently complex, or so Richards claimed. Oren and Franklin waited with bated breath as the machine started up. A bright flash of light from within, and then all the lights went dark as the deuterium-tritium fuel was depleted. Cracking the glow sticks the two young men carried for this circumstance (Richards predicted it to have an 83% likelihood), they looked through the viewing window. Lo and behold, a single spider was within the glass jar in the center of the platform within. Richards sent Oren in to remove their successful test subject and release it outside. Oren went along with what the man who successfully invented time travel said, because clearly he was the smart one between the two. Retrieving the jar, Oren stepped outside. He got a good look at the night sky above, before kneeling down and unscrewing the lid. It was then that something unexpected, and particularly fateful occurred: the time-traveling spider immediately crawled from the jar onto the back or Oren’s hand. Oren had barely made it back into the lab before he collapsed. When Oren Osborn awoke, everything felt… different. He could feel that his clothes were a little tighter, and looking down it was quickly explained by his suddenly more athletic build. And just by flexing his muscles a bit he could already tell that his new muscled appearance betrayed the true strength within. Beside him, he found Franklin Richards, who explained that by some incredible chance, the spider had granted him powers similar to Peter Parker, the long-dead Spider-Man of this same city. Unfortunately, Richards also informed Osborn that they needed more fuel for the reactor to start up again. In search of this rare material, the pair traveled across town to the Oscorp Building. Fortunately, Oren’s DNA was close enough to that of his great-grandfather Norman’s allowing them to enter through the biometrically-secured secret entrance. Within, they not only found the deuterium-tritium fuel they needed, they found an enormous collection of gadgets that Norman Osborn used once upon a time during his stint as the villainous Green Goblin, as well as the equipment used to make the Goblin suit. Seeing their opportunity to give ONYC another hero to back up the one they planned to kidnap, the two collected the tech present and used it to create a spider-suit for Oren. Despite the fact that Oren despised the wicked ways of his ancestor, he knew that it was only because of the legacy of the Goblin that he had the chance to help his people. Taking a page from Peter Parker, as well as Norman Osborn, Oren took on the mantle of Spider-Goblin. When the pair returned to Alchemax, they set work on preparing the Chronal Abductor for its true purpose: pulling a hero from the past to help Spider-Goblin fight back against Ultron. Richards said their target was a man named Robert Reynolds, but it wasn’t a name Oren was familiar with. Regardless, he trusted his best friend’s judgment. They started up the reactor and the lights flashed back on. Before Richards could activate the Abductor, however, Oren felt a feeling he wasn’t familiar with. It was like lightning firing down from his brain, through his spine, to the tips of each of his fingers and toes. He felt alive, and he felt terrified. After a fraction of a second that very well could have made all the difference, he realized what he was experiencing: spider-sense. The wall of the lab burst open, as through the now gaping hole hovered Ultron. Not a drone. Not even one of the Cyborg Six. Ultron himself. Oren had never seen the master machine in person before, but he knew all too well just how dangerous he was. He knew that this was the being that had murdered the original Spider-Man, Peter Parker. So, without a second thought, Oren ran. He used all his spider powers and goblin gadgets to escape. It wasn’t until Oren had been running for two hours that he realized he left Franklin behind. It was a full day before he could steel himself to return to the lab, and when he did it found it completely destroyed, with no hope of salvaging the tech. Best as he could tell, Franklin had initiated the self-destruct on the Chronal Abductor, sacrificing the seconds he had to try to escape so as to keep this technology out of the hands of Ultron. Oren knelt above the body of his friend, charred on one side from the explosion and with a hole in his chest that Oren knew was produced by Ultron’s fist. With a fist of rage pounded on the floor, cratering the cement, Oren vowed he would never again flee when there was someone to save. With great power, there must also come great responsibility. In the four years since, Spider-Goblin has made quite a name for himself in ONYC, and been a pain in the AI’s central processing unit. He has tangled with the Cyborg Six on many an occasion, destroyed hundreds if not thousands of Ultron’s drones, and most importantly saved a hell of a lot of people. And he has never run away when there was someone to save. Because he’s the Indomitable Spider-Goblin. [Personality:] Like most spider-people, Oren is humorous both on and off the battlefield, and like most spider-people, this is largely a coping mechanism for the enormous pressure on the young man. Despite it being years ago, the death of Franklin Richards hangs heavy on his mind, and whether it is true or not, he feels that if he made an effort he could have gotten his friend out of there before he was slaughtered by Ultron. Despite his variety of powers and gadgets, he doesn’t have the backing that the cyber-thugs he fights do, and is often, almost always outmatched. Despite this, he uses tenacity and creativity to come out on top. Unlike most spiders, Oren knows that if he loses, the world will be left without a hero, and this pressure pushes him forward. [Abilities and Equipment:] Oren Osborn has all the powers associated with Peter Parker of E-616 - proportional speed and strength of a spider, as well as wall-clinging and spider-sense - but also has a few extras. Oren’s spider-sense has expanded over the years, allowing him to sense electromagnetic fields with incredible precision. This allows him to “read the mind” of electronics around him, as well as identify their locations, though he cannot influence them in any way. Additionally, due to the tachyons absorbed by the spider that bit him, Oren can force himself and anything he wears or holds into a quantum superposition. This, in essence, means that he can exist in multiple places at once, splitting himself into flickering duplicates. This process is painful for Oren, and this pain magnifies with greater split mass and greater distance, so he uses this power sparingly. In addition to his spider powers, Oren uses technology developed by Oscorp, more often associated with villainous figures including the Green Goblin, the Hobgoblin, or Jack O’Lantern. This includes pumpkin bombs, EMP and sonic pulse emitters, electrified bolas, and of course a glider. Oren’s goblin glider consists of 4 separate pieces (two footholds and two wings) held together electromagnetically, so that it can fit into a smaller space when not in use. The formula and required ingredients for Peter Parker’s web formula has been lost to time by the 2090s, so instead of web shooters, Spider-Goblin has 4 mini grapple lines in each glove, one per knuckle. These allow Oren to traverse the air in a manner similar to most spider-people, but due to shorter effective range he tends to stay closer to walls when not on his glider.
  12. "...My name is Jeremy Shelby. I wanted to have a chat with you for a moment." The first district's famed protector lingered for a moment, doing one last scan of the area he was surveilling, before shrugging and turning toward Jeremy. "Gareth, though I think you already knew that. What's up?" Though he still appeared guarded, and his hand remained on the hilt of his sword, his voice was warm and sincere. "I was hoping to see if you knew anything, since you are the self proclaimed 'Hero of Light' here in the 1st District." Jeremy began, his hands being shoved into his pockets. "I wanted to see if there was anything that occurred the last few weeks, months maybe, regarding Mr. Stratford to make him and the tower go kaiju on us the other day." Gareth's eyes narrowed, as he glanced down into the wreckage again, before returning his gaze suspiciously to Jeremy, "That's an awfully specific question. You working with Nika?" "The police chief? Hardly…" he shook his head. "I'm a shopkeep, sell antiques and the like. Besides, I enjoy that job more than I would being in the chief's pocket book. No, I was simply there at the end site for the tower…helped a group stop a giant scrap Quetzalcoatl." "Quetzalcoatl? I got a friend who'd think that's real neat." Gareth shook his head, taking a few steps toward Jeremy, "I can feel that you're like me, another Fount, and know that your intent is all pure, but you ought to stay out of this. The professionals are hard at work getting this mess cleaned up, and I don't want to see a civilian get caught in the fray and injured." Jeremy nodded. "I suppose that's fair. But even still… like you said, I'm a Fount like you, stuff like this seems to draw others in. I mean, think about it…the tower goes monstrous, who's there to stop it? Just a bunch of Founts. Like, there was no rhyme or reason why we were there, and quite frankly…for someone of your reputation, I'm fairly certain you find yourself in plenty of danger and problems for no reason." "There's a hell of a difference." Lightly jostling the sword at his hip, Gareth nodded down at it, "I was chosen to protect these people. The number on the back of my neck is my badge and burden. And part of that burden is to let people know when they are in over their head." "Yeah, you have a point there. Not very many people get selected by the holy sword Excalibur…the sword said to be utilized by Arthur Pendragon himself, the chosen king of England." Jeremy chuckled, moving his hand out to adjust his glasses. "Having the burden of such an ancient relic in this day and age is truly one not very many can live with. And honestly, you seem to be doing it just fine from what I can see." He moved his hand, showing off his number: 92. "However, my thought is this…why do we even have these if not to do some good in the world. Now granted most don't, but even still, what about the ones who do? I may not be a 'Hero of Justice' and just a simple shopkeep, but I'd like to think that if there's a way to help others…shouldn't one just take that?" Gareth sighed, his hand leaving the hilt of Excalibur for the first time in the conversation, the filigree wings evaporating. "Listen, I can tell you've got all the best intentions at heart, but when people get mixed up in things like this, it puts them in danger. And if something happens to you or your friends because I didn't convince you to stand back, that's my responsibi-" Kess’ knees tweaked with pain as she leapt into the air from the safety ladder she had climbed behind the pair. One leg was bent back at an angle, and she swung it forward in a sidelong kick towards Gareth’s head. She had a grin slashed across her face, sparks playing over her face. Though her attack connected, the Fount of Brilliance reacted perfectly, twisting his body and leaning backward so that her shin glanced off the surface of his cheek. Without breaking the fluidity of his movement, he reached up and grabbed hold of her leading ankle, throwing her aside carelessly. "I really recommend against looking for trouble here." “Speaking of looking; NOW!” Kess shouted as she landed awkwardly, having to twist in midair and hop painfully with her full weight on one leg, skidding back across the edge of a roof. Gareth's hand instinctively moved toward the hilt of his sword in anticipation for whatever was to come, but was interrupted as an aluminum bat burst forth from the rooftop beneath him, rocketing upward with a blazing pink force coming from its handle. The tip struck Gareth in his forearm, once again knocking his hand away from the blade as he stumbled a half-step backward. A split second later, the hole left by the bat was greatly expanded as Leo burst forth from beneath, "Hey there blud, havin a fun one?" The tip of each of Leo's fingers glowed with pink light, before he clasped his hand into a tight fist, the glow transferring to the knuckles of the glove he wore, and he went for a haymaker to Gareth's face. "Impact Buster!" Unfortunately, Leo's assault was a fraction of a second too slow, as Gareth's left hand reached down to lightly touch the hilt of his holy sword, as his right forearm went up to block the blow. What appeared to be liquid silver wove itself around Gareth's right arm to form shining filigree armor matching the wings he displayed earlier. Despite the loud crashing sound as Leo's fist met its mark, and the damage caused to the objects on the roof past Gareth from the shockwave of the blow alone, the Fount of Brilliance was left seemingly completely unharmed. "So… anyone else gonna rush in and jump me?" “If there WERE, I’d bet they could stay out of my WAY,” Kess yelled, kicking a rock, the shot too slow as she had to maneuver to aim around Leo, deflected effortlessly by a helm that briefly formed over Gareth's face. “MOVE, idiot!” She hopped along the roof, streaks of sparks following her as she finally came to a stop on the edge of the building next door. She gave Jeremy a death glare was intended to read “help us, dickhead” and instead just communicated the final word of the three. Leo glanced toward the wreckage, catching a glimpse of the two from their own group that had ventured into ground zero for recon, Just gotta keep him extra occupied for a bit longer. Reaching up, Leo grasped the handle of his bat, which was finally falling back down to the ground from his initial strike from below. “Let’s head downstairs, Mister Hero!” With a shout, Leo swung downward, striking the surface of the roof beneath the pair with a burst of energy, causing it to shatter and the pair to fall through into the building. "There is no need for the cheeky commentary, Mr. Spencer." Unknowing of the pair of Founts watching them, Mr. Spencer shrugged, "Gotta keep things light where we can, otherwise the crushing weight of these lives makes it impossible to get anything done." He paused, turning toward the police chief, "speaking of which... I hate to ask, but have you heard from Altair? You know, given everything." "... And what do you know of him?" Nika didn't look at the detective as her tone changed ever so slightly, but somehow dripped with venom. "No more than you, though admittedly I haven't really looked. I just know you've got that polygraph of yours double checking all the reported casualties for you." "We are all alone, Mr. Spencer. I do not believe you should press this topic any further." "Chief! Is that a threat?" Spencer held his hand to his chest, clutching invisible pearls in feigned exasperation. "I do not believe I said anything of the sort." "Besides," Spencer put a hand out, holding his palm down parallel to the ground. Spectral walls began to reform from the places where they had been destroyed, as the detective scanned the area with his vision, "we're not really alone. We've got the past to keep us company." The police chief's eyebrow rose slowly as Spencer spoke, looking at the reforming area as she let him continue. "Fun party trick, huh? One of the benefits of fame." As he lowered his hand, a ghostly image rose from a clock that had fallen the ground, reaffixing itself to the matching ghostly wall. The hands on the clock turned backward rapidly, reaching 11:33 before Spencer paused the rewind, pointing to a nearby corridor. "If the building was empty, who just opened and closed the stairwell door?" "That is the question. Any leads on an invisible fount?" "Not that I'm aware of. You should probably get the polygraph to check your records. About a hundred total of us are known to you guys, right?" "She has a name, Mr. Spencer. And we are aware of numbers in the 130s. The identities of those numbers are up in the air. Stratford was not one we knew." "I don't need you to correct me, she does it enough on her own." Spencer let his hand fall to his side, and the scene returned to its current wrecked state. "I suppose there's a new one now, too. Any reports of a greenhorn causing problems?" "Only those who make a scene. The brats at the university. The graffiti artist. The serial thieves of Districts 11 and 12. The entirety of District 4. There was also the other incident yesterday, but the times do not line up for this. Seems more like a crime of opportunity." "If they showed up in Neo-Cho, we wouldn't be any wiser." Spencer's hand suddenly went back up, forming a ghostly image of the police chief mouthing the words 'other incident yesterday'. "What the hell happened yesterday?" "You see, the tower got up and walked away." Nika's voice came out deadly serious, "And you really should have read the reports you were sent to know about the grand larceny." "Sorry, I was a little preoccupied rewinding corpses to the point they were recognizable." "District 1 had a special exhibit at one of its museums, on loan from the Catholic Church. The guards were incapacitated and the go-shintai stolen, despite its hefty size. The church is furious, to say the least." "The Lance? The Shroud? It wasn't the damned Holy Grail, was it?" “The Ark.” "You're shitting m-" Spencer paused, suddenly turning his head toward where Elita and Tempest were hiding, "Hey chief, remember when you threatened me and said we were alone?"
  13. EEAAO is phenomenal, but I only watched it the other day so I guess it wouldn't count. Glass Onion was fun. I don't think it was quite as good as Knives Out, but I enjoyed it. The Menu wasn't as good as I thought it would be. It wasn't bad by any means, but I was expecting something great. Strange World was... Actually really good? I expected it to be as mid as any other Disney animated film in the last decade but it honestly felt really heartfelt, I am very glad I saw it instead of attending a family Christmas celebration. Nope was fucking great. Definitely my favorite Peele film yet, and definitely the movie of the year for me. Just a real fun one to pick apart, as his previous films have been. I also watched plenty of other films, some of which have been mentioned in this thread, but I can't be bothered to talk about them. Mid year for capeshit overall aside from The Batman, 2023 is looking to be better.
  14. Flame-Wreathed Tyrant 7th District, 9:30 PM Kess stepped into what was once a gymnasium of the university, long since overrun by the Jolokia gang. The ceiling had been torn away, allowing moonlight in from the waxing crescent visible in the sky above. Megalopolis's light pollution was significant enough that all but the brightest few dozen stars were drowned out, but the moon always shone brightly. From the entrance of the room to the end was a tattered red carpet, flanked by a series of oil barrels, each filled with burning coals. At the end of the promenade was a throne built up out of wrecked and repurposed bleachers, and upon it lazed Number 31, The Fount of Flames: Morgan O’Connor. She was fiddling with what appeared to be a Rubik's cube, seemingly baffled as to how to solve it, but the moment she noticed the new entrant to her throne room plastic cube was crushed within her hand, a sound like gunfire released seemingly from her body itself. "I heard the mayor died. Your doing?" "Yep." The lie flipped off Kess' tongue easily. She was too tired to care. She had been awake for over twelve hours and after the scaling and subsequent ejection from the Titan, not to mention her fight with Leo, that was two hours too many. She'd be damned if she let it show, though. She stood in her traditional leaning slouch, hand on hip, customary scowl stapled to her face. "Had to go through the Titan to find the asshole, but a chair to the head worked as good on him as everybody else." Besides. She sure as hell wasn't turning down the street cred of taking down Stratford. At the very least it might make Daiki and Sin-Yu less likely to cross her. "That frigid bitch was nosing around there," she continued. They both would know who Kess was talking about. She only ever referred to Aurora as the frigid bitch. "Ryo was down there as her eyes." Morgan raised an eyebrow, leaning forward, "And did you use the opportunity to take her out? With Stratford gone, so are half the rules we had to follow. Hell, probably all the rules." She scrutinized her subordinate carefully, rolling one of the plastic fragments that remained in her hand between two of her fingers, "As much of a mess as today was, I'm looking to make it into a Big Win for us. I think if we act promptly, we can reform the full Seventh District in the space of a week." With another crack like gunfire, she flicked the piece of plastic away, launching it through the exposed top of the building and out of sight. Kess barked out a laugh. "The bitch had the same idea. She wanted to help me kill Stratford. Was completely useless at it, too." She leaned back, allowing herself a theatrical yawn. "I used up all the juice taking out Stratford; I'll take care of Ryo later." She knew bringing up Aurora would get Morgan off the track of Stratford's death. After all, the mayor was dead. Might as well take the credit. With a frown, Morgan lazily pushed herself up onto her feet. With the sound of cannonfire she was suddenly upon Kess. Standing less than a foot in front of her subordinate, Morgan looked down slightly to account for the small difference in their height, as a tailwind of hot air blew around her and ruffled the hair of both women. "Do you intend to let her survive your next encounter? You have a prominent future in our group, but not if you can't take care of your baggage." Kess had committed long ago to never flinching in front of Morgan. She was so tired that she almost slipped. She barely managed to restrict her reaction to a lazy blink. "Let her survive? Not fuckin' particularly. She did the last useful thing she'll ever do when I used her as a landing pad out of Stratford's building." Morgan stared daggers at Kess for several seconds without a word, the crackling fires surrounding the two providing a soundtrack to the furry visible in her eyes. Before it came to a head, she turned away. "And of Stratford. What was the cause of the commotion?" Kess scowled. She still hated that Morgan was confident in showing her back to her. Cocky motherfucker. "There was a couple 'a nosy motherfuckers there, they figured some fount or other made him do it. I wouldn't think much a' it but they're all founts too, so they know KINDA what they're talkin' about." She arched an eyebrow, looking to see if Morgan's shoulders tensed. "This guy might be a problem for plan Big Win, 's what I'm thinkin', yeah?" "I agree. Any threat to the old regime is a threat to the next one. Figure out who's responsible, kill them." "Say less," was her response as she turned to go. "Kess." Kess whipped around, some resentment from the morning with the very brief phone call surfacing as she brusquely asked "What?" NOW the bitch is talkative. Looking over her shoulder, Morgan smiled uncomfortably warmly, "Ryo too." "Yeah, yeah, I know," she snapped, irritated. "S'cuse me if I was too busy setting up Plan Big Win to take out the trash, I'll cave her ribcage in, tell her ya send yer regards." "Good girl. Keep me updated." Ground Zero 1st District, 11:15 AM Considering that the group of varyingly unlikely heroes of the previous day had agreed to meet at this location at 10 AM so as to gather information regarding the mysterious founts Elita had described, it was almost impressive how close to the goal time the group had managed to assemble. Or rather, most of them had. The knight errant that had helped slay the dragons had not been seen after the battle in question, disappearing into the surrounding chaos. The last of the group to arrive was Leo, the Fount of Destruction. His clothing was visibly slept-in, and though his wounds from his bout with Kess were scarred over, the telltale signs of violence were still clearly visible on the ensemble he had not yet changed since the previous day. "Listen, I know you lot's the type to rise bright 'n early, but man's not waking up on anyone's schedule ever since I got to this island. 'Sides, this way I ain't gotta wait." Leo looked past the group to see the setup that the Megalopolis Police Department had put together some time in the previous 24 hours. At least a mile around had been barred off by police tape. The members of the force swarmed about, although none of them seemed to enter the perimeter that contained what little remained of the tower. Curious pedestrians seemed to stop and stare, only for the cops to quickly come by and usher them away, looking about nervously as they did. "You think the chief and that guy are fine alone in there? Seems like a lot of dangerous work for two people." "I'unno, do you have magic abilities?" "It's not magic, it's harnessing the power of humanity's collective unconscious." "Harness the collective fuck I don't give, you sound like one of those New Age Triskelion nuts." "Jeez man, I was just repeating something I read online." "On what, a recruitment site?" On a rooftop a few buildings away stood a young man, his hand on the hilt of an ornate broadsword, safely sheathed at his side. A outline of a pair of wings, formed seemingly from pure sparkling silver, sprouted from his back, though it appeared they were on display as a show of force more than anything else. He wanted to make sure his presence was known to any would-be trouble starters. On the opposite side of the clearing, emblazoned upon what was previously a neighboring skyscraper to Samsara Tower, was an enormous mural, seemingly made through use of spray paint and large-scale stencils. The image depicted the Samsara Titan, wandering with its arms forward in the air, chasing after a stylized white bird made from geometric shapes. Considering the sensitive, or more accurately insensitive subject matter of the image, it could be assumed that the art was put up where it was less than legally, though the process by which one would pull off such a feat was left to the viewers' imagination. "Looks like the boydem ain't exactly running tours. I'm all for tearing through this yellow tape," Leo cocked his head toward Sei, "but not if our resident super-hero is gonna tackle me extra fast once I'm in. Got me all wavey after the reporter here fixed me up yesterday, not lookin ta snooze another half a day."
  15. On one hand, a quick check shows that the best deck is delver, which is a good sign for the format, but then I saw like four or five different initiative variants and aw man oh jeez. At least cephalid breakfast is still a thing. As for the topic itself, criticizing ygo for power creep as well as pepe shows ignorance. PePe being the best deck in the capacity it was, was the result of a lack of (necessary) power creep, creating in a stagnating format where decks were eliminated by banlists. Blake probably already said that but there's a lot of words here and I'm not very good at reading.
  16. Adler's companions wasted no time in advancing into the warehouse. The sphere in his hands, which he now understood to be some form of autonomous defense, hovered out of his loose grasp, and hummed with a greater volume than before. Ah yeah, guess that makes sense for a thinker. It wasn't long before it began emitting sparks, but for reasons not immediately apparent to anyone unfamiliar with Command Editor, the arcing electricity only managed to extend a few inches from the surface of the drone in Adler's direction. Casually diverting his path to go around the drone, Adler walked up into the building. He noticed a flash of movement above his head, and reflexively reaching upward he grabbed hold of his companion's hat that had been knocked off by her movement, floating dozens of feet above the group in the chaotic winds. His stride was purposeful, as he showed no more concern for the drones now that their purpose was made apparent. Several of the drones approached him, but their advancement became progressively slower and slower as they neared him, like Achilles futilely trying to catch up to a tortoise that had been granted a head start. Adler wasn't sure what he was expecting the thinker to have in terms of defense, but in retrospect he realized he shouldn't have expected much. At least the first step to save the world wasn't a difficult one. Upon passing Vi, Adler dropped the hat on top of a drone that was closing in on her, making it easily the most well-dressed component of the warehouse's security system. Or at least, the most well-dressed that Adler was aware of. "Keep fighting the good fight Powder Keg, teach those tin cans a lesson. This certainly isn't an exercise in futility." Next on his path was Sibyl, who was engaged with a familiar-looking mechanical menace. Despite the close proximity, the machine would find itself unable to reach Adler if it attempted to take a swipe at him as he sidestepped the demon-on-robot violence. No way of knowing how many more tricks are up her sleeve, gotta use this sightline while I have it. "Shields." despite Adler not quite getting her alias right, it would be abundantly clear from context that he was speaking to Dee Moxley. Not only was he looking her in the eye, his own eyes shone blue as his words would sound to her as if they were spoken by someone only inches from her face. In less time than it would take for her to blink, Demiurge was upon her, standing a polite yet imposing arm's length away. "Welcome to the Moray Clan hostage program, where we pick up stray eggheads and leverage them for personal gain." Adler reached into a back pocket concealed by the ridiculous cloak The Fates gave him, pulling out a completely mundane cell phone, "You are now free to call for backup. If you find yourself unable to with whatever tools you currently have available, feel free to borrow my phone. Just stay out of my messages, I don't like having my personal life and work life commingling." Adler paused for a moment, trying to think of any kind of sinister villainous edge he could attach to his ultimately courteous approach. "If you feel like you have this covered without hitting up the other Monkeys, I can drop you off thirty miles into the Shimmer I'm sure you spend your billable hours making googly eyes at."
  17. Being good with a character is a pretty big motivator for liking them, I'd say.
  18. After the vague instructions from The Fates, the trio was out the door. “Y’know, thinking about it, the main reason I’m assigned to this is to get you two hellions to the objective.” Adler sighed as he pulled a handkerchief of sparkling silver fabric from a pocket of his outfit, as he lifted his facescarf and lowered his goggles to conceal his identity. The fabric had a bizarre property beyond the glittering light it gave off, in that the moment it was free of his pocket it began to fall upward, his two-fingered grip the only thing preventing it from flying away. “Neat, right? Clotho wove it, apparently they figured giving fancy toys could make godlike power even more applicable. It falls upward, and is easy as hell to notice.” Upon releasing the length of cloth, it did exactly as he stated it would, and began drifting up into the air, moving slowly and listlessly as it was tossed to and fro by the wind through its ascent. “Each of you put a hand on my shoulder, and probably close your eyes if you have trouble with heights or get motion sickness.” Adler gave the girls a few seconds to comply, before sighing and reaching upward, taking grasp of the cloth far above like it was the moon and he was an overly ambitious character in an old cartoon. The moment his hand closed, the cloth was within his grip, though it had not moved from its position high in the sky. Instead, the three villains were hundreds of feet above Scarlet City. Adler looked down, scanning the area below for the warehouse in question, “Don’t let go now or you’ll get a skydiving lesson.” Just like that, the three stood upon the pavement, across the street from the building they were sent to ransack. Adler brushed the hands off of his shoulders as if they were dust and he were trying to keep up appearances. “You have arrived at your destination, thanks for flying the friendly skies with Command Editor.” Unfortunately, Adler was well aware that he wouldn’t get a good bonus if he walked away at this point. Even without fighting, he knew there was more he could do without effort. “Stand back.” Adler stuffed Clotho’s gift back into his pocket, then raised his hand, reaching forward toward the enormous sliding door of the building. He took a deep breath, and the two girls would see the space between him and the building, about 50 feet, glow with a faint blue hue for a second, as he felt the cold metal against the palm of his hand. As easy as it was, the novelty never really wore off for him. After a second of contemplation, the sliding door was displaced to teeter in front of Adler with a sound like a point-blank strike of lightning, the contact between it and his hand now clearly visible. With a gentle push, he knocked it down, eliciting no reaction from his as it crashed against the pavement. Contrary to what he expected, the warehouse was not filled with armed guards. In fact, there didn’t appear to be anyone present. There was a normally-proportioned door in the back, but the main area now clearly visible had nothing but racks upon racks of what appeared to be simple chrome orbs, each about the size of a basketball. Through an unknown combination of overconfident recklessness and curiosity, Adler reached out with both hands, for one of the orbs to appear between them. It gave off a subtle hum, and he could feel a warmth emanating from it. Of course, his intrusion didn’t go without notice, and an array of sirens marked the Moray Clan’s arrival. “Looks like stealth is out the window. So, you two wanna head in there and raise hell?”
  19. Despite his previous Halloween being such a monumental occasion - the day he was blessed with power befitting a god - Adler did not take part in this year’s festivities. Instead, he spent it cooped up in his penthouse apartment, burning through a pack of beer paid for by a trio whom he doubted was old enough to purchase it legally. “Hope those kids are enjoying themselves, at least.” Naturally, he woke up the next afternoon to see even more riots than there typically were following a Halloween party, with a matching text message summoning him from The Fates. “Fuck.” Adler felt painfully out of place. He was the only person in the room who wasn’t a teenage girl, and yet he had the feeling that he was the lowest ranking individual there. Nice and comfy, keeping expectations low. Regardless of his lack of station among the group, he had a feeling that he was included in this bunch as a way to make sure the other two wouldn’t get killed if things went poorly. Despite not being well-suited for violence, I wouldn’t lose to anyone. Let alone one of those monkeys. “Remember The Stanley Principle. You’re not invincible no matter how far ahead you might seem.” Lachesis interrupted his train of thought with the ever-annoying anthem that the triplets loved to use to put him in his place each time he did something effortlessly that they would never have a chance of accomplishing. ”Yes yes yes Atropo, I am well aware of the Stanley Parable and how it means even a shrimpy thinker like your sister Lachesis could beat DEUS in an arm wrestling match with two days prep time.” Adler rolled his shoulders uncomfortably, looking at the two girls that had been summoned along with himself; it was clear that they were both considerably more enthused about this than he was. The devilish one seemed particularly excited for the chance to cause mayhem as she turned toward Adler and the girl he vaguely knew of as Fi, "alright let's go tear a place up!" Adler figured that such violent tendencies were common among the gang, but seeing it up close made him uncomfortable. Nevertheless, he figured he was best off if he played along. ”Sounds great. Tell you two what, if we do a good enough job with Caesar’s-” – he pronounced it “scissors” – ”little clubhouse, I’ll take you two to Hot Topic and give you each a twenty to burn through, get as many wallet chains as you like.”
  20. Wow cool logo, that oval is really nice. I want to be on the record that everything but said oval is a fucking stupid idea.
  21. [His cigarette is burning but he never seems to ash] "I've got too good of a setup going to let that dead oracle be right." [Name:] Emmerich Adler [Age:] 34 [Gender:] ♂ [Faction:] Moray Clan [Appearance] Emmerich Adler is about six feet tall, and appears to be around 150 pounds. His face is poorly shaven, and his haircut is choppy, full of split ends and reaching his waist at its longest points. When he is doing work for the Moray Clan, Adler wears a dark, semi-armored outfit featuring a face-scarf, goggles, and hood to keep his face hidden. [Biography] Adler lived a pretty simple life. He grew up in the dregs of the industrial sector of Scarlet City, poor but not hungry, graduated from school without excelling. He worked multiple part-time simple jobs that required no form of expertise, and lived in a basement studio apartment underneath a suspicious locale that he never bothered to learn the business of, but was filled with footsteps and whispers at consistently inconsistent hours each day. His existence was by all means a miserable one, lacking completely in purpose and excitement, but more importantly to him it was an easy one. Despite everything, he could find comfort in that. As long as he was protected from the elements and had a beer ready in the fridge when he stepped into his place, he was doing alright. One Halloween, a year before the death of Cassandra, Adler had found himself a temp gig at the Halloween bash, passing out tri-folded maps of the event to crying children and half-drunk adults. While he had never taken much interest in the capes before, he found himself captivated by the power they commanded, both hero and villain. He paid attention to the festivities, saw the brand deals the big shots were getting, the lavish costumes that implied even more lavish amenities at a hypothetical home base. Adler realized that even though he was making it working only twenty hours a week, capes could live a life of comfort and freedom just by existing. Perhaps it was the enormous concentration of capes that triggered a hidden genetic marker within him. Maybe a cosmic ray was reflected off of the shimmer and drew a perfect line through the crowd to strike him and imbue him with untold power. It may have been a sick joke, or a choice made on a whim by some kind of narrative god beyond Adler's comprehension. At the end of the day, the mechanics by which it occurred were irrelevant. That Halloween was the first time Adler wished he were a cape, and by a surreal twist of luck, it came true. In that instant, he knew something had changed within him. He could feel the power within him, and knew in an instant that his life would be smooth sailing from then on. He walked out of the festival, no longer caring about whatever paltry paycheck he had shown up for, eager to discover what exactly he was capable of. It didn't take much experimentation for Adler to gain a functional understanding of his Command Editor and how to use it. Fitting for himself, it was an ability that was effortless and precisely as effective as it needed to be. While his initial idea had been to be a hero, performing minimal feats to inflate his fame and make him rich, he realized very quickly that G3's system was difficult to get into, and would be a hassle that his CE couldn't help him through. This led him to an alternate get rich quick scheme: petty theft. As someone able to reach across a room to take whatever he liked, it was easy enough to swipe wallets. While his first few weeks of crime did him well, allowing him to quickly upscale his life of comfort to staying in a lush loft with a view of the nicer parts of the city, it didn't go without notice. Heroes and LEOs were on the lookout for the phantom pickpocket, and it was inevitable that they would have closed in on him. While Adler was confident that his CE would make him unbeatable in combat, it wasn't something he was looking to test. Fortunately for him, someone else found him first. A set of triplets, girls barely touching adulthood as he would guess, cornered him in an alley as suspicious figures are wont to do. They informed him of the approaching risk of being determined to be an S-Class risk, and assured him that despite the strength he held, he couldn't take on all of G3. Adler took on the deal to use his Command Editor to take care of whatever The Fates asked, and in return they would directly subsidize his life of comfort. They gained a powerful asset, and he gained the opportunity to lurk within the shadows where he could live comfortably. Fitting for his ability to reshape the world to their wishes, they gave him the code name "Demiurge". [Personality] Adler considers difficulty anathema, and is as selfish as he is slothful. While he is clever, he isn’t particularly well-learned, since he neglects many opportunities to learn through lack of interest. He is difficult to provoke, and while he has more pride than a person of his station ought to, he rarely acts upon it, out of sheer laziness. He would rather be looked down upon by strangers than climb to the top. This mindset is what kept him out of G3, but in a sense is what makes him such a valuable asset to The Fates, as they know he would have no interest in going against them as long as his simple needs are fulfilled. In a sense, Adler is a slave to his own desire for comfort, as it makes him easily manipulated - a predictable person is easy to control. While he believes him to be taking advantage of the Moray Clan, he doesn’t fully understand just how short his leash may be. Due to his reclusive lifestyle, Adler has weak social skills, and struggles to navigate difficult social situations. This has led to him quitting several jobs over the last decade, though he doesn’t necessarily expect his gig with The Fates to go the same way, considering just how beneficial it is to him. When he does manage to interact with others, he is overly sarcastic, and oftentimes even abrasive, since preserving these relationships isn’t something he prioritizes. Unsurprisingly, Adler falls to multiple vices, being both a moderate smoker and moderate drinker, erring toward heavy in each if he is having a particularly bad or good day, respectively. [Power] 「C.E.」COMMAND EDITOR At its core, Command Editor is the ability of fine spatial distance manipulation. Adler has control over how close or far away things are from him, stretching or compressing the space between to fit his whims. Despite how it may seem, this is not a matter of telekinesis. Adler can reach forward, touch a wall that to outside observers would be seen as dozens of feet away from him, without either himself or the wall actually changing positions. If he chooses, he can have himself or the object be shunted to the position matching the edited distance, and when he does so a noise resembling a split second of a high voltage current can be heard, resulting from the shock of objects being displaced (naturally, smaller objects give off less sound, to the point of being nearly unnoticeable for things that could fit in a hand). When Command Editor is used to increase spatial distance, those being edited to be "further" observe Adler giving off a red glow, and when it decreases distance the glow is blue, as a result of his power stretching or compressing the waves of visible light that travel between. [Misc] Adler's surname (Adler) is chosen to mean 'Eagle' in reference to the power being adapted from a JJBA-style stand I had come up with years ago called 「COMFORT EAGLE」. Command Editor was named to retain these initials, and the spoiler title for the app is a quote from the eponymous song by Cake.
  22. What are your thoughts on being called Starchibald?
  23. I'm disappointed you don't know. This machine kills fascists and runs on tea
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