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Post by JW% on Nov 24, 2012 21:06:10 GMT -8
((Neither Topman nor Splashwoman have a move just yet, and with Plague still shooting, I'd say it's still combat... so...))
((Wickerman gets three more attacks before things end...))
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Post by Penny Royals on Nov 24, 2012 22:31:52 GMT -8
There stood a one-story house, in the more suburban part of town. It seemed simple, identical to the others around it of course. The walls were light blue, the roof was white to match the picket fence surrounding it. The shades were drawn closed, the lights were down... but that didn't mean the house was asleep. It never was.
Because underneath the house were two levels of basement. That was where things really happened at, after all. Currently, the lights were on in the first floor, casting a warm glow down on everything. Sooner was propped up in an armchair, Nibs laying down on a bed. The boys, along with the help of Wendy, had patched them up to the best of their ability. For Sooner, it was fine- his injuries were mental, a strong, fearful urge to see his brother. For Nibs, however, they would most likely need to take him to a doctor soon. Not that he thought he needed that...
"What do you mean, my nose is messed up?!" He barked in a panic when he had waken up slightly. The whole group was surprised that he had enough energy to talk- let alone throw his arm the way he did at Slightly, who was trying to bandage it. "And my teeth?! This is an outrage!"
"Calm down, Kaien." Wendy sighed, sitting just far enough he couldn't attack her. "You'll be fine. Your good looks won't be tarnished. I promise. If they were, I'd take it upon myself to deal out some punishment."
She glanced at the clock, stood up, and paced up the stairs to the front window. She glanced out briefly, and came back downstairs, groaning.
"Where are they?" She asked, concern beginning to grow in her voice. "You said they were right behind you, weren't they?" She shot a slight glare at both Slightly and Curly. "If they rounded up trouble and are currently trying to fight that damned man with the bag over his head you all keep telling me about, there will be hell to pay..."
"I'm sure they're fine..." Curly mumbled, though his voice made it clear he was very uncertain of this outcome. His main initiative had been taking Nibs out, since he'd been battered so badly.
"They better be."
Sooner had his arms crossed, at least to the best of his ability. They'd been able to rig up a sling, and gauze was wrapped around his arm for a cast. He was brooding, staring only at the wall.
It was only after watching Sooner for a moment that Wendy got her wits back about her. She stood up, coming over to him and cupping his face with both her hands, kneeling down slightly to be at his sitting level.
"Paul," she said, now calm, cool, and collected, "I'm certain Michael will be fine."
They heard a noise upstairs, a thunderous noise, moving fast. All turned to look to the door to the basement stairs, which had barely yet opened when Toodles fell straight down, tripping over the last step. He got himself up, bending over, hands on his knees, heaving harder than he ever had. His dark face was tinted tones of red, purple and blue, and the temple on the right side of his head was pulsating vigorously.
Wendy rushed to grab a chair, and sat Toodles down in it. She went upstairs to grab a cup of water, forcing it into his hand.
"What happened?" She broke the silence finally. She could tell by his face, by his eyes, that something really bad had just went down. "Tell me, Xander."
"He... he..."
"The man with the bag over his head?"
"No- no, the Priest..."
"What about him? Did he hurt you? Where's Michael?"
"He..." He burst into tears then, hiding his head. Everyone stared intently, unsure of what he was about to say next, and afraid of the possible outcome. Finally, Toodles spoke up again. "He... he healed him..."
Sooner let out a long breath of relief. His brother wasn't here, but he was alive, and very possibly would be for a while.
"And? Xander, did you have to leave him?"
"Y-yes... he... he said... he said we wouldn't be seeing Later... but he... he healed him and he... he didn't kill him... and he didn't fight or kill me... he could have done it so easily..."
Wendy drew him to her breasts, letting his tears and sweat mix with the drying rain already staining her blouse. She held him there for a while- for what felt like hours in the uncomfortable quiet that followed. Sobs, bandaging. Breathing. Nothing else.
Eventually, once his crying had died down, Wendy let go. She pulled down the few beds off the walls, letting them pop out with some work from her. Then she went downstairs.
Downstairs she had her own room. Not a room to sleep in, though there was a bed. The room had a red light in it, pulsating down on the objects below it like a strobe light. Shelves were filled with objects, drawers, everything in this room. That was all there was in here, really- shelves, a bed, a dresser, a pole- and a vanity, with a full-sized mirror.
This room wasn't for sleeping.
This room was for guests, and for... cosmetics.
She went to the dresser and changed into something she felt much more comfortable in, something she felt much less warm in. It was far too hot down here, far too hot for this situation, for right now. She put on a short nightie, nearly see-through wit red mesh, leopard print bosom and cyan fur. Gaudy, in normal light. But down here... down here it was just fine.
She stood in front of the mirror, her face inches away from it. She rested her forefinger against it, and began stroking her reflection. Soon, her hands lifted from the mirror and to her own hair.
"Maybe..." She murmured, deep in thought. She walked to the vanity, pulling put her darkest shade of lipstick. She stood in front of the mirror, applying it at first modestly, then more and more. She seemed to nick herself, sending it spinning off onto her cheek, and, for a moment, she paused. Then she started again, smearing it further before taking the stick to the mirror, making dark black designs all over it.
She didn't notice Slightly until his hands grasped her shoulders tightly, tensing up her neck and back, stopping the angry flow of motion in her arm. But her face remained blank, unphased.
"...Maybe I'll dye my hair red..."
The lipstick fell from her hand, and she crumpled, collapsing towards the ground. Slightly's arms moved fast, down to her waist, to hold her up as she began bawling uncontrollably.
"What have I done?!" She moaned. "I should have never tried going there! I should have never taken you guys there! Michael! Michael!!!" Her scream pierced the room, dying back into more sobs. Slightly lifted her up bridal style, taking her over and setting her down on the bed. One hand stroked her thigh, the other pushed her hair back.
"He's alive," he whispered, trying to soothe her.
"But he's gone!" She wailed.
"Yes, but he's alive and well, and perhaps someday soon we'll meet him again."
"But what if it was just a trap?" She pushed herself up, stopping her sobbing in its tracks. "What if they killed him? What if they're torturing him? Ohgod, Simon!"
He pressed her to him then, leaning into the bed to try to silence her roughly.
"Wendy, listen! He'll be fine! Don't you worry your ass anymore than you are, because Paul is probably freaking out as is!" He calmed down a bit then, releasing her. She huffed, stray hairs that had landed on her face during those few moments flying back off to the bed. "I know you're worried, and scared. But godammit, you've got to be strong for them! We've got to be strong for them."
Quietness fell down on them then, for several moments.
"...Simon?"
"Yes, Wendy?"
"...You touched me."
"Sorry."
"No... I'm sorry."
And with that, the lights went out beneath the city streets of the suburban neighborhood.
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lovely corte
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Lindsey Looseflaps
HE LOOKED AT ME! HE LOOKED RIGHT AT ME!
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Post by lovely corte on Nov 26, 2012 2:31:22 GMT -8
Wickerman had three moves.
Three practiced, strategic moves that only the greatest of the militant leaders of the world could think of.
He slammed his face into a pole over, and over, and over, attempting to get the sack off his head, before he waddled over blindly to the near-dead boy, the Priest and the Priestess. He dropped to the ground.
It was obvious Wickerman couldn't get the sack off by himself. Well, it was obvious to him, to the others, maybe not so much.
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Post by Alkonost Storm on Nov 30, 2012 14:05:19 GMT -8
Enoch quietly motioned for Loretta to take over the boy's healing, stepping away from him to walk over to Wickerman. He gazed at the fallen Wickerman for several seconds before slowly reaching down and pulling off the hood from the man's face.
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lovely corte
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Lindsey Looseflaps
HE LOOKED AT ME! HE LOOKED RIGHT AT ME!
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Post by lovely corte on Nov 30, 2012 18:21:00 GMT -8
He'd find the force that was returned equally as staggering. Maybe with a bit more force, he'd be able to clean rip it, but there was an obvious squelching sound, and Wickerman's hood became undone slightly, chunks of flesh tearing off of Wickerman's face, being gobbled up and swallowed by the mask.
The mask, even when detached, resisted, flailing about and attempting to latch onto Enoch's face with a snapping noise before it stopped, returning to just another sack. Wickerman, however, just lay on the floor still, groaning in pain and agony, high pitched, eldritch squeals and low, guttural growls.
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Post by JW% on Nov 30, 2012 18:56:55 GMT -8
((Wickerman's conversion does not heal his wounds, and now he has less hitpoints than the damage he has self inflicted, so it's time for him to pass out...))
Meanwhile, outside.
The mermaid woman flinched and winced as Plague fired more shots at Topman while she tried to shove him into the tele-gate. "Who is this lunatic?" She shrieked, and lifted the trident she had been supporting herself on into the air. The tines crackled with energy and the rain suddenly when horizontal against Plague, making it hard for him to see.
"I told you! I was shot! He shot at a hero!" Topman sputtered as the tele-gate swallowed him up.
"Great. Hey, Idiot-With-The-Gun! You're under arrest!"
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lovely corte
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Lindsey Looseflaps
HE LOOKED AT ME! HE LOOKED RIGHT AT ME!
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Post by lovely corte on Nov 30, 2012 19:03:22 GMT -8
Plague just sat, laying back against the stones, his side-arm now limply hitting the marble. He stretched out, panting and slightly wounded, heavy respiration echoing throughout his mechanical apparatus.
He took a deep breath, and let the rain that stopped him from shooting just wash him down a bit, opening his mouth slightly to take a gulp before he just fell limp. He heard the woman yell, but he didn't respond.
He had failed. He had failed those girls, he had failed them.
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Post by Alkonost Storm on Nov 30, 2012 19:26:04 GMT -8
((Um, nowhere in Wickerman's profile does it say the sack is animated. In fact what just happened should be impossible because it's just a burlap sack that has a profound psychological effect on Wickerman. It shouldn't be animated or sentient.))
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lovely corte
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Lindsey Looseflaps
HE LOOKED AT ME! HE LOOKED RIGHT AT ME!
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Post by lovely corte on Nov 30, 2012 20:38:33 GMT -8
((Didn't think of it at the time. Plus, if it was more of just a sack, what was stopping it from just falling off or Wickerman's other-side just... figuring it out? Honestly, It's more of just a re-imaging. This way I figured it actually makes sense that it's difficult to take it off.))
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Post by JW% on Nov 30, 2012 21:28:47 GMT -8
((Except that it attacking Enoch implies that it could have this effect on other people, which means it would be a good idea to give the thing stats so we know what it would take to fight it off, and who would be susceptible to it...
And what was keeping it from "just falling off" should have been that while in berzerker state he would fight to keep it on, and when he exhausted himself it would "just fall off". Giving it a life of it's own... don't we have two other people who are doing that?))
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lovely corte
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Lindsey Looseflaps
HE LOOKED AT ME! HE LOOKED RIGHT AT ME!
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Post by lovely corte on Nov 30, 2012 21:39:31 GMT -8
((I'll do it later. When It's not 30+, and I'm tired. ;/))
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Post by Adlai Stevenson on Dec 2, 2012 21:18:59 GMT -8
"Owlgirl." Frisbee nodded, leaning back and enjoying the ride in the van. They seemed to be heading to some sort of underground pass, somewhere it would be easy to lose flying tails. Or ground bound followers for that matter. "Please to meet you. I'm Paula Donalds." Frisbee said munching on her hand mixed granola. "Oh god... they're going to kill us and you're giving away you're real name..." The small man groaned. "Oh, hush, we're fine!" Frisbee said. "Besides, I haven't come up with a super hero name yet. Or an outfit." "Why didn't you wear a mask?" "I didn't have one." Frisbee said defensively, showing off her outfit of hooded sweatshirt and the rest. She looked nothing like a super hero. Or villain. In fact, at best, she looked like some kind of pickpocket or street punk. At worst she was some hippie who begged for change on the street corner. "And thanks by the way, though most of them are just basic toy frisbees. Most of them plastic, some metal, and there were those two I taped together and filled with bent nails." The one that filled the alleyway with calthrops. "I'm pretty good at throwing them, which is why I figured I'd use them." The man finally rolled up and took a good look at Owlgirl. "What are we going to do? You saw them back there... sniper, a group of superhuman villains in that church. The guy broke a pew over his head intentionally! And she's wearing a mask." He pointed at Owlgirl. "How do we know she's not one of them?" With everything being thrown at her all at once, it wasn't a stretch to say that Owlgirl was a mite flustered. All that training with Gabe, she should have figured out how to get out of a hostage situation like this . . . but as it unraveled, this seemed less and less like a hostage situation and more like the madhouse field trip to the zoo. She pinched the bridge of her nose between a pair of fingers, took a breath, and closed her eyes. So much going on . . . With the short man's accusing finger jabbed at her, the flustered Owlgirl's reaction was all the more defensive. "Look mister, just calm down. I don't even know who the hell they are, so how about you take a breather and chill out like Fris--err, Paula here? I'm sure we'll figure something out in the meantime."
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Post by JW% on Dec 2, 2012 22:33:34 GMT -8
"Of course we'll figure something out." The short man said. "Assuming they don't kill us. Jesus Christ... did you see that guy with the sniper rifle?"
"Think he was shooting at us." Frisbee agreed, considering Owlgirl's use of that name. Maybe she'd start calling herself 'Frisbee'. It wasn't the best super villain name ever, but since it fit, why not?
"And if she's part of them?" Alan asked Paula, gesturing again at Owlgirl.
"I really don't think she was with any of them." Paula mumbled, her mouth full of granola again. "I mean, they were pointing guns at us when we came in, and she seemed to think it was an ordinary church, like we could get away from the sniper."
"We got away from them by having guns pointed at us." Alan said, glancing over at the robots still covering them with what were probably laser guns. "By the way, I don't think you need to do that anymore. Security clearance Toymaker voice recognition. Cease targeting me, the Doll Breeder commands it." This was, after much digital alteration, the same voice that the huge robot had played the recording of. You could barely tell, particularly after all the post production, except when he tried to make his voice commanding.
"Acknowledged master." The robot said and turned it's laser weapon on the two girls munching on granola.
It didn't seem to calm Alan down any. "They're still going to kill us. That crazy guy with the gun shot out our tires trying to keep us from getting away, and did you see those... those monsters in the church? They're dangerous! He made his sword burst into flame and carved that assault rifle in half."
"Well, we got the stuff." Frisbee said, gesturing at the case Owlgirl still had. She also shrugged at her backpack in the corner of the van. "Want to look through it? See if there's anything useful?"
"And I suppose this... OwlGirl... wants her cut too?" Alan... the Doll Breeder... watched her with paranoid distrust.
"Would be only fair." Frisbee shrugged, and took out a bottle of water from her pack to take a drink. "You're cool with that Owlgirl? I mean, we probably can't split all this evenly, but try for a three way division..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sirens were starting to sound from the distance as SplashWoman used her trident to shift and move towards Plague, repeating for him the Miranda Rights. Not that Plague seemed to notice.
And not like the police wanted to mess with this part of town to begin with. But there had been an armored car robbery, and apparently some vandalism to the church. SplashWoman wondered if it was worth it to check in on them. She was having enough time moving herself down the street, the stairs would be problematic. She was built for water, not land.
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Post by Alkonost Storm on Dec 4, 2012 13:08:55 GMT -8
Still healing the boy, Loretta watched as Il Ruinante fought back the sack's attempt to hug his face (kind of futile, as the man's face was covered by a helm). It was a brief contest, the priest prevailing over a sack that the confesee had neglected to mention was possessed of sapience. Holding it tightly in his armored hand, Il Ruinante walked over to the ruins of the altar and placed the burlap sack on the one section that remained standing.
Unsheathing his claymore, he raised it aloft towards the skies. "Oh Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. I ask for your blessing, that I may, with your Help, destroy this foul and wicked object, as its nature is surely against Yours. It must not be suffered to continue its existence."
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Post by JW% on Dec 5, 2012 20:15:43 GMT -8
A burst of light shown from above, though from where exactly was hard to tell, as the church didn't have a skylight, and Il Ruinate's claymore burst into a flame that seemed to have no color to it. Just white light, ready to be brought down to smote the offending sack.
((As the sack was initially given to have no anomalous properties, just the descriptive of burlap as it's construction, it would have somewhere around 6 materialstrength/hitpoints. The sword and flame together deal noticably more than that, thus can destroy it in a single stroke. Wickerman will still berserk on the condition of a sack being put over his head.))
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lovely corte
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Lindsey Looseflaps
HE LOOKED AT ME! HE LOOKED RIGHT AT ME!
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Post by lovely corte on Dec 7, 2012 2:42:48 GMT -8
Wickerman groaned, watching as the sack just fell limp and lost its anomalous abilities, and just retained the physical aspects of a burlap sack. It was old, dusted, and was just a burlap sack at this point, albeit one of a mass murderer who's pain and agony lived on through the sack.
Wickerman looked up at the Priest, and no facial expression could be read, Wickerman only watched. The results would either be as such:
A) Life would get better.
B) Life would get worse.
And Wickerman had no idea which one was going to happen if the burlap sack was destroyed.
Plague, outside the Church, put up no resistance. He had failed those girls, and he had let them get taken. He was a super-villain, sure. It was his most reluctant job he had ever done, and he took no joy in it, whether it was something like roughing someone up or just shooting them.
He allowed himself to go limp, aching and wounded and looked up at SplashWoman. All the rain hit him in the face, and he wasn't quite sure of the features of the woman, so he just stood up. He took his rifle off the ground, and removed the round in the chamber, and the magazine, and placed them on the ground, along with his side-arm, to be taken for evidence, before Plague put his hands behind his head and got on his knees, and waited for the police.
He might as well report what happened to the girls, if only to get them away from those robots.
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Post by JW% on Dec 7, 2012 14:59:16 GMT -8
((Noted you put up some stats for the burlap sack. It now has 50 hitpoints, so one really good hit from Il Ruinante "knocks it out" reducing it to 0 hitpoints and lighting it on fire. Since it's lit on fire I'm treating that as a "Bleeding to death" effect, and suffers a loss of endurance every combat round after that. So 18 combat rounds or, eh, a minute and a half, until it's completely ash. That qualifies as a supernaturally durable burlap sack, and anyone present is going to notice that it's taking longer to destroy than it should. Of course, with a strength of 10, the thing could bench press 400 lbs, or enough to lift and carry a grown person. Wickerman could have been drug around by it, no wonder he couldn't pry it off under his own(not berserk) strength. Il Ruinante's strength still beats it however, and he could resist it's attempt to latch onto him.))
The rain washed at the evidence as Plague assumed the position. SplashWoman finished reading him his miranda rights and produced nylon wrist ties, though the police would be showing up soon if the sirens had anything to do with it. She was rather glad she didn't have to channel her energy blasts into him, though he seemed suspiciously cooperative.
Everyone present probably had a lot of explaining to do...
((That "everyone present" includes Plague(a little bloodied), Father Enoch(he'd better hide his armor), Sister Loretta(a little bloodied), Wickerman(who is suffering massive self inflicted wounds and should barely be able to move), and Michael "Later" Queen(who is stablized via the clerical magic, but still low on hitpoints and requiring much rest). Everyone else seems to have escaped.))
((Oh, and I'm shifting the Lost Boys to their individual stats now, as listed on page two instead of the generic version on page one.))
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Post by Alkonost Storm on Dec 7, 2012 18:57:04 GMT -8
Enoch brought down the claymore onto the burlap fiend quickly, pushing it off the altar remnant and hid it amidst the stones remains, knowing the flame would only cling to the burlap and nothing more. After that he quickly, dismissed his armor and stowed it away under a conveniently loose tile. Once that was seen to, he "sheathed" his claymore and moved to heal Loretta as the keening of the sirens drew closer.
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lovely corte
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Lindsey Looseflaps
HE LOOKED AT ME! HE LOOKED RIGHT AT ME!
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Post by lovely corte on Dec 7, 2012 19:12:42 GMT -8
Wickerman rolled over onto his side, watching the burlap sack burn in his peripheral vision, blood and gore seeping from Wickerman's pale face, contrasting against his opalescent skin.
The sack smelt and burnt in the air, and one could hear screams carry off into the smoke, and into the air, before they dissipated. Wickerman breathed deep, bittersweet air and smoke filling his lungs.
Plague allowed the wrist-bands to be tightened around his wrists and behind his back. He willing stood up, of his own accord, and when the police arrived, allowed himself to be pushed into the back of the wagon.
He sat in quiet contemplation, and just allowed himself to heal. He felt his ears ache, his vision blur and blood that wasn't meant to be flowing from certain holes, flow. He took a deep breath, and allowed them to drive away with him, listening as the police officers talked about all the 'gear he was packing' and 'how he got this military-grade weapon.'
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Post by JW% on Dec 26, 2012 17:46:52 GMT -8
"I don't know how you can be so nonchalant about all this Paula." The Deadly DollBreeder said. "We're wanted fugitives now."
"Nuh uh." Frisbee shrugged. "We're hostages of a wanted fugitive who is entirely made up. All we have to do is figure out a cover story for how we escaped, or were set free after the Doll Breeder took all of our loot, and we're home free."
"I didn't want any of this." Alan's shoulders seemed to collapse under the weight of events. "I... I just wanted to make hospital robots. So the elderly and disabled could live on their own, with robot servants. Reaching the shelves they couldn't reach, cooking so they didn't burn themselves..." He put his face in his hands. "The moment I showed them that it was real science, my robots really worked, not some super villain mad science that worked for me but nobody else... they tried to make my wonderful dolls into war machines. I... I couldn't take it... I tried to quit and... oh god what if they make the connection with me and the Doll Breeder? They're going to come after me again... they already tried to kill me once."
"Hey, why were you in that church anyway?" Paula tried to snap him out of his rambling. "You're not particularly religious, and that place was crazy full of bad people."
"I thought it was a normal church." Alan said, looking up. "I thought I could... y'know... get advice."
"Well, if you wanted advice on how to be a supervillain, looks like it was the right place."
"Are we going to have to kill Owlgirl?" Alan looked like he was about to cry at that though. Frisbee however reached out and gave Owlgirl and hug.
"Heck no!" Paula said, hugging her new girlfriend. "You can keep a secret, can'tcha Owlgirl? Tell everyone you were captured and molested by this sick twisted Doll Breeder guy, make up a big story about how he's going to rule the world or something, and that you slipped away from his clutches or something. That's not so hard, right? Just don't go telling anyone that he's the Doll Breeder. Heck, you ever need some gadgets or robotics stuff, come over and ask, we might be able to help out."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Plague was loaded up and driven away, though when one of the police came up to the church to ask if anyone had seen anything, the carnage left them shocked.
"Ah, dispatch, we're going to need additional medical here." One of the officers said into their radio, while another just looked around at Father Enoch, the injured LostBoy, the equally injured Wickerman, both laying on the floor as Sister Loretta prayed over them and mopped up blood.
"I... I'm sorry... Father, what happened here?" The officer asked, looking at the shattered windows, the splintered pews, and the altar that was an almost total loss. "Were you a party to the shooting outside?"
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Post by Alkonost Storm on Dec 26, 2012 19:15:27 GMT -8
The look on Enoch's face showed he was clearly not amused. "No, but there was a shooting in this church, also I was robbed!"
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lovely corte
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Lindsey Looseflaps
HE LOOKED AT ME! HE LOOKED RIGHT AT ME!
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Post by lovely corte on Dec 27, 2012 1:35:51 GMT -8
Plague rested his head against the cage he was in, his wrists cuffed in-front of him, covered in blood and mud. He ringed his fingers idly, scraping muck off his fingertips onto his pants leg.
He had pulled down his face-mask, exposing his respirator, and just sat back in his cage, panting idly. Adrenaline calming down, his hands started shaking, feeling all the anger and fear hit him.
Those girls...
Wickerman remained where he was, for a lack of a better term, unconscious. His body was rising and falling and rising quietly, and blood seeped from his face into a pool next to him.
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Post by Penny Royals on Dec 27, 2012 20:14:47 GMT -8
Later was, woozily, beginning to come to, though not very strong. He could barely open his eyes, and could only choke out a small whimper, stifled by the blood still in the back of his mouth. Though he wasn't as injured now, he still most likely was going to be out of it for the rest of the night at least.
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Post by Adlai Stevenson on Dec 27, 2012 22:09:47 GMT -8
"Yeah, sure?" Owlgirl answered.
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Post by JW% on Dec 27, 2012 23:06:17 GMT -8
"I would feel a little more comfortable if she'd remove her mask." Doll Breeder grumbled. The van pulled up into an underground parking garage and sagged to the side as the blown out tire once more touched the ground.
"But that would compromise her secret identity!" Frisbee said, releasing Owlgirl from the hug. "I think I need one of those..."
"Yes... yes... I... I suppose. If she can't trust us, we can't trust her." Alan sighed. "Trust has to start somewhere. Today has been very stressful is all." The robots were unloading themselves and moved to help everyone else out. Even Owlgirl and Frisbee. "Look, we need to know what we've got before we can divide it right. And we need to get away from here. There's a stormdrain tunnel we can use."
~~~~~~~~~~
"I... see." The police officer said, taking out a notebook. "Did you see who robbed you? Can you give us a list of what all was robbed?" The other officer started taking pictures of the crime scene, noting that it looked like some very vicious battle had taken place, both here and outside.
On the whole, the police would be less than helpful for Enoch, though he was charming enough to convince them that he and his church were naught but innocent victims in this whole turn of events, the reach of the law in Pinnacle City was not very far without metahuman support.
((If Alkonost Storm and corte could fill in what story the police have to work with, it would be appreciated.))
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lovely corte
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Lindsey Looseflaps
HE LOOKED AT ME! HE LOOKED RIGHT AT ME!
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Post by lovely corte on Dec 28, 2012 5:00:38 GMT -8
((Do you want us to write it out OOC or through some IC medium to not break the immersion? xDs. ._.))
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Post by JW% on Dec 28, 2012 17:52:33 GMT -8
((Plague, Loretta, and Enoch being interviewed by the police would fill for an IC medium. Possibly Wickerman and Later being spoken to in the hospital...))
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lovely corte
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Lindsey Looseflaps
HE LOOKED AT ME! HE LOOKED RIGHT AT ME!
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Post by lovely corte on Dec 28, 2012 17:57:21 GMT -8
((I'm cool with that. Also, I might need to find another 'beserk starter' for Wickerman since Memetic died. xD.))
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Post by JW% on Dec 29, 2012 18:03:32 GMT -8
((Any sort of bag over his head should do it...))
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lovely corte
Persistent Member
Lindsey Looseflaps
HE LOOKED AT ME! HE LOOKED RIGHT AT ME!
Posts: 1,402
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Post by lovely corte on Dec 29, 2012 19:41:48 GMT -8
((Yar. I'm thinking he might pick up just some random plastic bag. xD.))
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