Jcc10
User-Script Designer
- Location
- Cyoria, Eldemar
No, just too lazy to look up the correct spelling.
With This Ring (Young Justice SI) (Thread Twelve)
- Thread starter Mr Zoat
- Start date
- Status
No, just too lazy to look up the correct spelling.
- Location
- Earth, 3rd rock from the Sun
Do you have to, really? Like not doing it prevents you from pressing the post reply button or something. Or are you just being OCD about a line starting with a space?
You don't actually know that. Also, getting "surface of the sun approved" sort of requires the equipment being stress tested in "surface of the sun" like conditions. If this works, Kon can be the one to certify his equipment.
ThrawnCA
Carbon-based biped
- Location
- Australia
OK, I can work with that. Just need a line break after the quote tag, before I start typing. Doesn't take much effort, and shouldn't make it any longer, since autocorrect puts a space in otherwise.
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Converse (supplementary, Renegade option)
- Location
- Hampden Park
13th September
19:12 GMT -5
Sinestro, how close are they?
Thirty metres, Corpsman. An image of their relative position appears in my mind's eye. While I most certainly appreciate the rationale behind presenting a strong opening position during negotiations, I am still puzzled by your decision not to plant traps of some kind. It would make the encounter so much more believable.
The logic is simple. While I know she doesn't care for her employers one way or the other, she might have a degree of affection for the people working for her directly. I doubt that simple traps would present her with much of a challenge, but it might kill them. If I wanted to avoid that I'd have to make them so obvious that I'd look amateurish for using them. As it is, there are piles of bodies to build their apprehension, and I stand here looking completely unconcerned amidst the carnage.
And if they do have a weapon that can hurt you?
Then I'll try to live just long enough that I'll be able to hear it when you say 'I told you so'. How about that?
Adequate, Corpsman. You may proceed.
Thanks ever so.
I lower my goggles over my eyes and look at the oncoming… I'm not really sure what to call them? What do drug cartels call their first responders?
In my experience, 'expendables'.
No, they wouldn't have sent her in with fresh meat. 'Made Men'? No, that's crime families. And you can be Made without being a front line fighter.
A grenade sails in through a broken window behind me, and I erect a barrier to protect my end of the room as it detonates.
Assault Team? Yes, that's a bit more sensible. Of course, when fighting and trading are so much a part of the same thing as they are in the cocaine business, they might not have a custom of calling them anything in particular. It makes it harder to lab-.
Two camouflage-clad men charge through the doorway, assault rifles blazing. Some bullets are blocked by my armour, stopped dead by my divine aura's refusal to let something as base as thruppence-worth of steel hurt me. Their missed shots -and even at this range the AK-47's enthusiastic spread pattern ensures that there are many- punch through both the plaster and wood of the wall behind me and the corpse of the base's late commander.
That was an interesting experience. I'd never crushed a man's skull in my hand before I met him.
"Good evening." I casually toss the desk aside and start walking towards them. "I would like it very much-"
A flashbang comes in through the window, detonating within a metre of my face. Attacking the senses is a pretty good move against most super strong people; heck, that's what I did against Captain Marvel 50. Unfortunately for whoever threw that, I don't have super hearing, and my divine resilience works just as well against pressure waves as it does against bullets. And my visor is easily capable of blocking the magnesium flare. But someone's clearly thinking.
And then the leader of the strike team leaps through the window and I realise that I may have spoken too soon.
"-if you would put down-"
You know, some people scoff at the idea of baseline Humans functioning in combat with superhumans. For myself, I think there's something beautiful about the physicality of a trained and honed peak-Human body in combat. And if people knew about the sheer number of the powered idiots who tried making it either as criminals or heroes and ran into someone who didn't have powers but did know how to use a gun… Cartels sometimes use metahumans as enforcers, but there are good reasons why they generally don't end up running the show.
"-your guns and-"
Perhaps Scandal Savage appreciates that as I reach out with my left hand, grab her around the right shoulder and throw her against a nearby wall. I mean, yes, she was on the ball enough to throw one of those expanding rubber pellet things Mister Queen is so fond of at my face as she goes, but it's a trivial matter to knock it aside. And even if it hit, I can let my rings breathe for me and navigate for me.
But it's a step up from what the people I've already killed managed!
Bullets are still failing to do anything as I lunge forwards and grab the offending weapons-
"-never mind."
-and crush the barrels in my bare hands.
"Ms Savage: good idea, but one which is sadly deficient to the situation. You two: bold, but after the initial volley failed you should have fallen-"
There's a brief plume of flame as someone outside fires a rocket at me as I'm briefly outlined in the doorway. I grasp it in a construct, then neutralise the explosive and spin it around before releasing it.
"Aagh!"
"-back. Even if you couldn't identify me as an individual, someone who is bulletproof is unlikely to suddenly stop being bulletproof because you finished your magazine." I let go of their guns as they cower from me. I reach forward and pat them gently on the head. "Call it a 'C' overall."
"What do you want, Grayven?"
That wasn't a full-force throw, but it would have hurt. Ms Savage is up as if nothing has happened.
"Well, to quote the Drahk: what I want from you… Is you. Obvious.. comments about not being your type aside."
"You've got a-."
"Funny way to show it, yes." Sinestro, detonate.
Done, Corpsman.
"But since I killed your father and your current employer, I thought that you might hear me out."
That gives her momentary pause. "My father is immortal."
"As I told him -before I turned him mind, body and soul into an orange construct- there's no. Such. Thing." I lean down to her level. "Wanna see what's left of him?"
"Yes. Why do you want to show me?"
"Not going to ask about your boss?"
"I can believe that. And what's one drug lord more or less?"
Yes, because I left the others alive. Honestly. "I want to show you because I-." One of her fellow enforcers shoots me in the back with his sidearm. I turn and glare witheringly at him until he drops it, then return my attention to Ms Savage. "I want to employ you myself. You see, your late father -as a sort of 'fuck you' to a retired former adversary- had a company he owned at several places removed buy the rights to some technology which said former adversary wanted put on the market. He intended to sit on it for just as long as possible, then release it in dribs and drabs for the maximum personal profit. I -on the other hand- want to release it as soon as possible to generate the most rapid possible enhancement in Human technology. Now, I could take direct action against said company, but that would complicate things dreadfully. And -with your father out of the picture- you are in the hot seat as his heir designate. Far simpler to ask you directly to come on board."
"On board with what?"
"A few.. friends and I have embarked upon a project to improve the lot of humanity. And we wish to employ you. Pay is good, conditions are excellent and you won't believe the healthcare. And you'd be doing the world a world of good. Oh, and…" I wave my right forefinger at her henchmen. "I'll hire them on as well." I smile. "Why not. Might need to upskill them a bit but they've apparently got a taste for the work."
"I want to confirm what happened to my employers. And my father. And I want to see some figures."
I smile broadly and straighten up. "Certainly! Mother Box, boom tube."
19:12 GMT -5
Sinestro, how close are they?
Thirty metres, Corpsman. An image of their relative position appears in my mind's eye. While I most certainly appreciate the rationale behind presenting a strong opening position during negotiations, I am still puzzled by your decision not to plant traps of some kind. It would make the encounter so much more believable.
The logic is simple. While I know she doesn't care for her employers one way or the other, she might have a degree of affection for the people working for her directly. I doubt that simple traps would present her with much of a challenge, but it might kill them. If I wanted to avoid that I'd have to make them so obvious that I'd look amateurish for using them. As it is, there are piles of bodies to build their apprehension, and I stand here looking completely unconcerned amidst the carnage.
And if they do have a weapon that can hurt you?
Then I'll try to live just long enough that I'll be able to hear it when you say 'I told you so'. How about that?
Adequate, Corpsman. You may proceed.
Thanks ever so.
I lower my goggles over my eyes and look at the oncoming… I'm not really sure what to call them? What do drug cartels call their first responders?
In my experience, 'expendables'.
No, they wouldn't have sent her in with fresh meat. 'Made Men'? No, that's crime families. And you can be Made without being a front line fighter.
A grenade sails in through a broken window behind me, and I erect a barrier to protect my end of the room as it detonates.
Assault Team? Yes, that's a bit more sensible. Of course, when fighting and trading are so much a part of the same thing as they are in the cocaine business, they might not have a custom of calling them anything in particular. It makes it harder to lab-.
Two camouflage-clad men charge through the doorway, assault rifles blazing. Some bullets are blocked by my armour, stopped dead by my divine aura's refusal to let something as base as thruppence-worth of steel hurt me. Their missed shots -and even at this range the AK-47's enthusiastic spread pattern ensures that there are many- punch through both the plaster and wood of the wall behind me and the corpse of the base's late commander.
That was an interesting experience. I'd never crushed a man's skull in my hand before I met him.
"Good evening." I casually toss the desk aside and start walking towards them. "I would like it very much-"
A flashbang comes in through the window, detonating within a metre of my face. Attacking the senses is a pretty good move against most super strong people; heck, that's what I did against Captain Marvel 50. Unfortunately for whoever threw that, I don't have super hearing, and my divine resilience works just as well against pressure waves as it does against bullets. And my visor is easily capable of blocking the magnesium flare. But someone's clearly thinking.
And then the leader of the strike team leaps through the window and I realise that I may have spoken too soon.
"-if you would put down-"
You know, some people scoff at the idea of baseline Humans functioning in combat with superhumans. For myself, I think there's something beautiful about the physicality of a trained and honed peak-Human body in combat. And if people knew about the sheer number of the powered idiots who tried making it either as criminals or heroes and ran into someone who didn't have powers but did know how to use a gun… Cartels sometimes use metahumans as enforcers, but there are good reasons why they generally don't end up running the show.
"-your guns and-"
Perhaps Scandal Savage appreciates that as I reach out with my left hand, grab her around the right shoulder and throw her against a nearby wall. I mean, yes, she was on the ball enough to throw one of those expanding rubber pellet things Mister Queen is so fond of at my face as she goes, but it's a trivial matter to knock it aside. And even if it hit, I can let my rings breathe for me and navigate for me.
But it's a step up from what the people I've already killed managed!
Bullets are still failing to do anything as I lunge forwards and grab the offending weapons-
"-never mind."
-and crush the barrels in my bare hands.
"Ms Savage: good idea, but one which is sadly deficient to the situation. You two: bold, but after the initial volley failed you should have fallen-"
There's a brief plume of flame as someone outside fires a rocket at me as I'm briefly outlined in the doorway. I grasp it in a construct, then neutralise the explosive and spin it around before releasing it.
"Aagh!"
"-back. Even if you couldn't identify me as an individual, someone who is bulletproof is unlikely to suddenly stop being bulletproof because you finished your magazine." I let go of their guns as they cower from me. I reach forward and pat them gently on the head. "Call it a 'C' overall."
"What do you want, Grayven?"
That wasn't a full-force throw, but it would have hurt. Ms Savage is up as if nothing has happened.
"Well, to quote the Drahk: what I want from you… Is you. Obvious.. comments about not being your type aside."
"You've got a-."
"Funny way to show it, yes." Sinestro, detonate.
Done, Corpsman.
"But since I killed your father and your current employer, I thought that you might hear me out."
That gives her momentary pause. "My father is immortal."
"As I told him -before I turned him mind, body and soul into an orange construct- there's no. Such. Thing." I lean down to her level. "Wanna see what's left of him?"
"Yes. Why do you want to show me?"
"Not going to ask about your boss?"
"I can believe that. And what's one drug lord more or less?"
Yes, because I left the others alive. Honestly. "I want to show you because I-." One of her fellow enforcers shoots me in the back with his sidearm. I turn and glare witheringly at him until he drops it, then return my attention to Ms Savage. "I want to employ you myself. You see, your late father -as a sort of 'fuck you' to a retired former adversary- had a company he owned at several places removed buy the rights to some technology which said former adversary wanted put on the market. He intended to sit on it for just as long as possible, then release it in dribs and drabs for the maximum personal profit. I -on the other hand- want to release it as soon as possible to generate the most rapid possible enhancement in Human technology. Now, I could take direct action against said company, but that would complicate things dreadfully. And -with your father out of the picture- you are in the hot seat as his heir designate. Far simpler to ask you directly to come on board."
"On board with what?"
"A few.. friends and I have embarked upon a project to improve the lot of humanity. And we wish to employ you. Pay is good, conditions are excellent and you won't believe the healthcare. And you'd be doing the world a world of good. Oh, and…" I wave my right forefinger at her henchmen. "I'll hire them on as well." I smile. "Why not. Might need to upskill them a bit but they've apparently got a taste for the work."
"I want to confirm what happened to my employers. And my father. And I want to see some figures."
I smile broadly and straighten up. "Certainly! Mother Box, boom tube."
Last edited:
- Location
- Hampden Park
GilliamYaeger
M'crazy.
Alas, we get no Grayven looming ominously over corporate and governmental officials as he tries to work his way through the murky mess that is the US patent system! What a genuine shame, even if it'd probably be a nightmare to write.
Did Vandal Savage buy Starman's Cosmic Rod tech?
late
Post minimums seem kind of silly when you encounter them, even though I understand why we have them.
Endfall
A zero on the singularity.
- Location
- Somewhere else.
- Pronouns
- She/They
I think "sails", maybe?
GilliamYaeger
M'crazy.
I believe that's the case, yes. I wonder how many other forms of hypertech Savage was responsible for holding back?
Ganurath
Literal Enthusiast
- Location
- A Valid Location
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I think you meant for "neutralize the explosive" to be... periwinkle?
RichardWhereat
Feanor did nothing wrong.
- Location
- Australia
Rubber Pullet, should that be rubber pellet?
Emerald Oracle
Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force
- Location
- The Else
Huh, so Grayven's new Light is going to employ Scandal Savage as their primary enforcer, rather than Deathstroke or Sportsmaster. That's... surprisingly competent of them. I'm sure it has nothing to do with getting Knockout that little bit more acclimated to Earth by getting her a human honey.
Grayven feels like Robert Downey-Tony Stark in this one.
dhasenan
always lowercase
- Pronouns
- She/Her
No, Green Arrow's just in the habit of shooting people with inflatable chickens.
- Location
- madison
that was both a dumb move and an immensely ballsy one. Hats off to you stubborn nameless goon, may you one day reach the lofty height of mauve shirt.
- Location
- Hampden Park
"range"
Not gonna lie, a rubber chicken arrow is an amazing concept just for the image and sheer humiliation/wtfery while still technically serving the same purpose.
- Location
- Hampden Park
Thank you, corrected.
in this case Scandal brings more than just her skills to the Light 2.0's table. As Grayven said, she's Vandal's heir, which means she can easily get them legal access to Starman's tech. ... plus Grayven's trying to play matchmaker.
ThrawnCA
Carbon-based biped
- Location
- Australia
It's very much a season of headhunting, isn't it?
I can't tell what the unfinished word is.
Wouldn't it be more natural for him to grab her left shoulder?
- Location
- United Kingdom
- Status