The first time I read this, I thought it was:1986ctcel said:
Also, mind PMing me those?1986ctcel said:
Memoirs of a Human Flashlight Thread 2: Now with more Arguments! [Exalted/Worm]
- Thread starter Golden Lark
- Start date
-
- Tags
- exalted (white wolf) worm
Taugundrone
I CAN DO WORDS TOO!
Chloe Sullivan
Subdefective
- Location
- 1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale CA
Could we get back on topic please. If Taylor gets... What was it? "Legendary scholar curriculum"? ... Well, accord will love her. Look at all the competent staff... Where has this girl been all his life?
Golden Lark
The First Fiction User
1109+1418+1180+1077=4784 out of 7000
Essence 3.1.2
A day or so later a report came back regarding the damage from my anima. I tossed it on to the lunch table for Dennis and Carlos to look at; Dean and Vista weren't around. Dennis read it aloud.
"Blah blah senors blah blah analysis blah blah conclusion: damage is consistent with four to five hundred years of direct exposure to uninterrupted sunlight."
The three of us kind of sat there for a minute. I was, on some level, kind of relieved that my power HAD some kind of downside. I waited for Dennis' inevitable comment.
He reached to his belt and whipped up his cell. He dialed and waited, nodding as a voicemail reception message played.
"Hey Armsmaster it's Clockblocker. In reference to lab results X3-523D I'd like to commission you for a few gallons of SPF ten billion sun protection in the form of clear gloss paint, clear matte paint, and fabric treatment, respectively. Kaythanksbye!"
He nodded sagely as he hung up the phone. "I'm sure he'll get right on that."
I tilted my head.
"Why Armsmaster?"
Dennis chuckled.
"Because he specialized in cramming all sorts of crap into tiny space. I'm sure he could engineer a treatment for any and all surfaces we have around here to make them sun-proof that barely requires a micron of coating on the surface. Also I've always wanted to call him like that."
"Won't you have to pay him for it?"
"Sure, but then his prices will skyrocket when it turns out everyone is going to bug him for it. Better to get in on the ground floor and sell the stuff myself directly, so I make money back and people get it faster. Eventually he'll make a device to mass produce the stuff if you stick around. This is just one of my many genius get rich quick schemes that does not involve abusing my power, you know."
Carlos cut it.
"More like get poor quick. Didn't Missy break your samo-"
"WE AGREED NOT TO TALK ABOUT THAT. EVER AGAIN."
"Right man, sorry. In any case I'm first in line for the super sunblock once you get some. I can't afford new threads every couple of weeks, no offense, Taylor."
"Ah, no problem," I said. "It's not exactly great for me either, since it tends to wreck my everything." Images of the PC, the slightly melted keyboard, and the cracking paint on my room's walls flashed in my mind. "Absolutely everything."
We started eating; today's lunch was salad. I kept coming to the break room finding more, fresher, and better ingredients stocked in the cabinets and fridge. Requests were implied. One of these days Dennis would replace every edible thing with tofu to see what I'd do, I was sure.
Carlos finished his bowl and made an appreciative noise.
"So, Taylor, you tested for tinker ability, right? Did you, ah, try for very long? I don't want to accuse you of making, uh, parafood or something, but I wonder how related to food your skills can bend."
I considered it seriously.
"I was trying see if I had any sudden bursts of odd inspiration; I wasn't actually trying to just make anything, true. Based on my little epiphany I have no reason not to try. Thanks for the thought!"
"Happy to be of service, my loyal minion. Unlike my hormonal counterpart here, I do not simply at-" he froze mid sentence as he reached to pat Dennis on the head. Dennis pulled back his finger from underneath Carlos' wrist, then ducked under the frozen hand as he pushed back his chair. He then proceeded to set tomato slices balanced over Carlos' eyes, gave him a lettuce mustache, and onion fangs. Finally, he whipped out his phone and took a series of pictures.
I just silently watched as he removed all the food, then sat back in his place. He made no attempt to strike a pose to match how he had been when Carlos reached for him, so I kept eating. When the freeze ended,
"-tempt to charm the l- ah," he stopped, hand freezing on Dennis' head. "He got me, didn't he."
Dennis simply turned to his leader, eyebrows raised in mock outrage.
"You wound me, sir," he said as he tossed his bowl in the auto-sink (yes, we have an auto sink) and wandered off.
I, for one, kept from laughing until I was once again safely behind a closed door in my room.
[***]
A bit later I was back in one of the workshops, and had sat down to poke at the equipment a bit more. My mind had once again reached that blank spot of 'What the heck do I want to do?' that it visited the first time I had been here. I wandered from the workbenches to some of the machining equipment, completely bereft of inspiration. I walked past that section when my nose caught a whiff of something. Turning, I went back to the last machine, some variety of lathe. I opened one of the side panels and took another sniff. I stuck in a finger and came out with a dab of grease. I rubbed in on two fingers, smelled it again.
It was bad. I was lacking the vocabulary at the moment, but I knew it was breaking down when it got hot, and it was failing at its purpose. I had a few idea on making a replacement, but . . . glancing around the workshop, I saw little that would serve as a proper chemistry lab, let alone a source of petrochemicals to work with.
I blinked and shook my head. Okay. Chemistry apparently got a boost. Smelling machine grease and diagnosing it? Wow.
I washed my hands and hit the computer terminal in the workshop, focusing my efforts on pricing the various tools and equipment and raw materials that would serve to assist in solving this problem.
The dollar amounts were . . . prohibitive, to say the least.
Sighing, I leaned back and idly wondered if I might need to think of some get-rich-quick schemes of my own. Actually, that was a good point. I sat up straight. Dennis mentioned making money without abusing his power. Which implied there were many perfectly legitimate ways to make money using powers freely. My mind began to shift into high gear, and the telltale sign of my forehead sigil lit up the room.
"MEDICAL EMERGENCY AT THE WEST PROTECTORATE PRIVATE ENTRANCE. ALL AVAILABLE MEDICAL PERSONNEL PLEASE REPORT TO THE SCENE."
I snapped out of my thoughts and dashed for the exit. Medical personnel or not, I was certain I would be able to help.
Essence 3.1.2
A day or so later a report came back regarding the damage from my anima. I tossed it on to the lunch table for Dennis and Carlos to look at; Dean and Vista weren't around. Dennis read it aloud.
"Blah blah senors blah blah analysis blah blah conclusion: damage is consistent with four to five hundred years of direct exposure to uninterrupted sunlight."
The three of us kind of sat there for a minute. I was, on some level, kind of relieved that my power HAD some kind of downside. I waited for Dennis' inevitable comment.
He reached to his belt and whipped up his cell. He dialed and waited, nodding as a voicemail reception message played.
"Hey Armsmaster it's Clockblocker. In reference to lab results X3-523D I'd like to commission you for a few gallons of SPF ten billion sun protection in the form of clear gloss paint, clear matte paint, and fabric treatment, respectively. Kaythanksbye!"
He nodded sagely as he hung up the phone. "I'm sure he'll get right on that."
I tilted my head.
"Why Armsmaster?"
Dennis chuckled.
"Because he specialized in cramming all sorts of crap into tiny space. I'm sure he could engineer a treatment for any and all surfaces we have around here to make them sun-proof that barely requires a micron of coating on the surface. Also I've always wanted to call him like that."
"Won't you have to pay him for it?"
"Sure, but then his prices will skyrocket when it turns out everyone is going to bug him for it. Better to get in on the ground floor and sell the stuff myself directly, so I make money back and people get it faster. Eventually he'll make a device to mass produce the stuff if you stick around. This is just one of my many genius get rich quick schemes that does not involve abusing my power, you know."
Carlos cut it.
"More like get poor quick. Didn't Missy break your samo-"
"WE AGREED NOT TO TALK ABOUT THAT. EVER AGAIN."
"Right man, sorry. In any case I'm first in line for the super sunblock once you get some. I can't afford new threads every couple of weeks, no offense, Taylor."
"Ah, no problem," I said. "It's not exactly great for me either, since it tends to wreck my everything." Images of the PC, the slightly melted keyboard, and the cracking paint on my room's walls flashed in my mind. "Absolutely everything."
We started eating; today's lunch was salad. I kept coming to the break room finding more, fresher, and better ingredients stocked in the cabinets and fridge. Requests were implied. One of these days Dennis would replace every edible thing with tofu to see what I'd do, I was sure.
Carlos finished his bowl and made an appreciative noise.
"So, Taylor, you tested for tinker ability, right? Did you, ah, try for very long? I don't want to accuse you of making, uh, parafood or something, but I wonder how related to food your skills can bend."
I considered it seriously.
"I was trying see if I had any sudden bursts of odd inspiration; I wasn't actually trying to just make anything, true. Based on my little epiphany I have no reason not to try. Thanks for the thought!"
"Happy to be of service, my loyal minion. Unlike my hormonal counterpart here, I do not simply at-" he froze mid sentence as he reached to pat Dennis on the head. Dennis pulled back his finger from underneath Carlos' wrist, then ducked under the frozen hand as he pushed back his chair. He then proceeded to set tomato slices balanced over Carlos' eyes, gave him a lettuce mustache, and onion fangs. Finally, he whipped out his phone and took a series of pictures.
I just silently watched as he removed all the food, then sat back in his place. He made no attempt to strike a pose to match how he had been when Carlos reached for him, so I kept eating. When the freeze ended,
"-tempt to charm the l- ah," he stopped, hand freezing on Dennis' head. "He got me, didn't he."
Dennis simply turned to his leader, eyebrows raised in mock outrage.
"You wound me, sir," he said as he tossed his bowl in the auto-sink (yes, we have an auto sink) and wandered off.
I, for one, kept from laughing until I was once again safely behind a closed door in my room.
[***]
A bit later I was back in one of the workshops, and had sat down to poke at the equipment a bit more. My mind had once again reached that blank spot of 'What the heck do I want to do?' that it visited the first time I had been here. I wandered from the workbenches to some of the machining equipment, completely bereft of inspiration. I walked past that section when my nose caught a whiff of something. Turning, I went back to the last machine, some variety of lathe. I opened one of the side panels and took another sniff. I stuck in a finger and came out with a dab of grease. I rubbed in on two fingers, smelled it again.
It was bad. I was lacking the vocabulary at the moment, but I knew it was breaking down when it got hot, and it was failing at its purpose. I had a few idea on making a replacement, but . . . glancing around the workshop, I saw little that would serve as a proper chemistry lab, let alone a source of petrochemicals to work with.
I blinked and shook my head. Okay. Chemistry apparently got a boost. Smelling machine grease and diagnosing it? Wow.
I washed my hands and hit the computer terminal in the workshop, focusing my efforts on pricing the various tools and equipment and raw materials that would serve to assist in solving this problem.
The dollar amounts were . . . prohibitive, to say the least.
Sighing, I leaned back and idly wondered if I might need to think of some get-rich-quick schemes of my own. Actually, that was a good point. I sat up straight. Dennis mentioned making money without abusing his power. Which implied there were many perfectly legitimate ways to make money using powers freely. My mind began to shift into high gear, and the telltale sign of my forehead sigil lit up the room.
"MEDICAL EMERGENCY AT THE WEST PROTECTORATE PRIVATE ENTRANCE. ALL AVAILABLE MEDICAL PERSONNEL PLEASE REPORT TO THE SCENE."
I snapped out of my thoughts and dashed for the exit. Medical personnel or not, I was certain I would be able to help.
Ridiculously Average Guy
I'm you, but stronger
- Location
-
Everything felt every so slightly off. Which I found worse than if it was full on OOC.iamnuff said:
Can't Solars also enlighten mortals?Satori said:
Taylor's discovering new uses for her Craft skill, I see...
Oh my, I wonder who it is? Good update GL. I'm interested in what happens next.
Chloe Sullivan
Subdefective
- Location
- 1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale CA
That's actually not terribly useful for her, unless Taylor invents sorcery, TMA, and/or thaumaturgy.Ridiculously Average Guy said:
- Location
- The end of all things
Taylor should just be glad she isn't a fire aspect Dragon-Blood. Extreme bleaching is much less problematic than extreme burning. I'm imagining her writing a brilliant report only to see it go up in flames. Not to mention that at the highest level it would kill her teammates in mere seconds.
Yeah... about that...
Everybody can enlighten mortals, there are various thaumathurgical rituals for it, though all celestial exalts have some charm that lets them enliughten mortals, but IIRC only the solar one is detailed (scroll of the monk).Ridiculously Average Guy said:
- Location
- The end of all things
Enlightened mortals are fun, but they are likely to be substantially less useful than normal in the story, given the near complete lack of essence. There are still some ancillary benefits, but they aren't really that large compared to things like parahuman powers.
Giygas
Cutest Sawk i could find. Lucario is a nice extra.
The scroll of the monk says that all the other ones are identical to the solar version.Catty Nebulart said:
earthboy
(verified ape)
- Location
- NYC
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Named heroes are going to be heroic mortals at the very least, so they'd already have some of the Enlightened perk package.
Taylor's Crafting extends to artifacts, and attuning artifacts demands motes, so Enlightened mortals get access to that. She'd be like a Tinker who can teach you to properly use her "tech".
Enlightened Essence also gives access to Terrestrial Martial Arts, so once Taylor makes (or remembers) some of those, that's another boost.
Taylor's Crafting extends to artifacts, and attuning artifacts demands motes, so Enlightened mortals get access to that. She'd be like a Tinker who can teach you to properly use her "tech".
Enlightened Essence also gives access to Terrestrial Martial Arts, so once Taylor makes (or remembers) some of those, that's another boost.
- Location
- The end of all things
No. Given that you need Essence 3 to learn sorcery, this makes mass producing sorcerers annoyingly troublesome.Essex said:
That is not the case if it is attuned by an enlightened essence user. And even then given people in high risk occupations (such as fighting endbringers) it is probably worthwhile tradeoff as it increases the average life-expectancy.Essex said:
Catty Nebulart said:
... then they improve the design, and Dragon mass produces it.Essex said:
Golden Lark
The First Fiction User
One large bowl of lemon meringue pie flavored ice cream, and one venti java chip frappuccino with three shots of espresso, down the hatch!
[writing intensifies]
[writing intensifies]
The only thing awakened Essence does is allow you to spend Essence to bend the normal rules of causality. That's a big thing, as normally causality functions in a manner practically indistinghuisable from our own, real life rules of nature.Essex said:So the proper solution to an Essence 1 human who probably lacks a lot of the benefits of other Essence users should be to become a mutant?My solution would be to do whatever it takes to hit Essence 2.
Beings of similar resilience or supernatural beings tends to mean 'Exalts, spirits of all stripes and pretty much everyone else, so long as they aren't mortals, enlightened or otherwise.' Because quite frankly the Ebon Dragon is a dick and he was one of the main architects involved in creating humanity, the default bog standard mortal in the setting.
Emphasis, Enlightened mortal. Any being with an Essence of any rating that is not enlightened doesn't get to the benefit of an increased Dodge DV IIRC. And yes, theoretically it's possible to have that. This would imply that having achieved Enlightenment allows you to bend reality a little to better evade attacks but as it's a passive effect that doesn't involve spending motes that's harder to quantify.Essex said:
And no, even with an Essence of one you get to add your Essence rating to your Dodge DV so long as you are enlightened. And the 'no -2 penalty for no ability dots' is IIRC an Exalted only thing.
Generally, no, barring mutations or being a spirit or anything other than human that's generally not true. And although I do have the collected 2nd edition available I can't be bothered to source it all right now, it's thousends of pages to prove a negative and it's getting pretty damn early here.Essex said:
10
Golden Lark
The First Fiction User
1160+4784=5944
Essence 3.1.3
A very hectic trip through the building later, and I was on scene to witness medics waving all sorts of sensors at a boy roughly my age - no, a man - wait, what?
His body was changing. Like, muscles flexing and then growing larger, then shrinking. Limbs stretched a bit and retracted. Bones stretching and retracting.
"ETA on Panacea?" said a medic.
"She was at a hospital upstate today, she won't be here for an hour at least barring a teleport," said another with a tablet.
I stepped up.
"Situation?" I asked.
They both looked at me and relaxed a bit. The first one spoke again.
"We're not sure what happened, but this kid was picked up around the ABB's territory. He's a parahuman, and we think the body changes are his power. We also think for whatever reason it's out of control. He was brought here instead of a hospital for obvious reasons; they can't possibly help him if his body is changing like this nonstop."
I took a deep breath and got closer. He was writing a bit, and bloodstains on his cut-and-removed shirt revealed some serious looking wounds.
Wounds that were healed and scarred over on his body.
Looking more, I saw a bunch of minor scrapes and bruises and cuts, and a few other more serious scars that matched bloodstains.
The portable EKG monitor bleeped irregularly. A glance at it showed a pattern that did not repeat smoothly. I froze, staring at it, a hand on his wrist.
Ba-dum.
BA-da-dum.
Ba-DUM.
I shook my head and took a deep breath. I could almost map it in my head.
"Internal bleeding, but otherwise heart is fine. Extremely stressed, but not damaged. I . . . I lack the medical vocabulary to describe further." The wrist under my hand warped and flexed and shrank. I repressed a shudder.
My mind whirled with options. Options that needed tools, clean tools, better equipment.
Damn it, dman damn damn! I could SEE his blood pressure falling.
Another deep breath.
I don't need to heal him.
I don't even need to fix what's wrong.
I just need to buy time until someone arrives who can do those things.
Inhale, exhale.
"Ah, Lightshow? You okay?"
"Kid froze up, first time seeing something like this. Nothing unusual."
I slowly shook my head and replied.
"No, it's not that. I need . . . I know what I could do with the right tools, but this isn't a hospital, and the hospital doesn't have the scanning equipment, and . . . "
I eyed a spent morphine cartridge that had been injected from a hypo-gun.
"And I don't think any of them will matter a damn if he isn't going to hold still."
Both medics were looking at me when I glanced back. Neither were smiling. Both nodded.
"There are ways we can paralyze a patient, but going beyond drugging is a little . . . " he faded out.
I looked back at the boy. Definitely a boy my age; the face was too young, even for the occasional Olympic-bodybuilder-class frame that he warped partially into and out of.
I could break his spine.
It would be fixed as soon as Panacea arrived. He'd only be paralyzed for a little while. It would barely even hurt.
I rolled him onto his side and considered it. His vertebrae writhed and warped like the rest of him.
No. I don't know if the warping would stop even if I did that. It wasn't a very nice thing to consider, regardless.
The EKG showed the blood loss was accelerating. Whatever holes inside him were leaking were getting bigger and/or having blood squeezed out of him by the warping in turn. He had four or five minutes left at this rate.
I rolled him back onto his back. Little wounds. Scratches.
Scratches? On his chest?
I pried open one scratch. It was actually a hole. I poked a finger inside, heedless of infection risk. Found something sharp. Pulled it out. Metal.
Shrapnel.
"I need a magnet!" I snapped.
"Ah, we don't exactly have one on hand. What kind do you need?"
They were concerned, but professional. They didn't see that the patient was on his way out; I couldn't blame them, and it wasn't worth the time to berate them for it.
I looked around their assorted supplies. The defibrillator. Perfect.
"Pass me the defib!"
It was slid over. They glanced at each other.
"Ah, Lightshow, maybe this isn't the best idea? He's not actually flat-lining at the moment, you know?"
I faced away from them with the portable pack open in front of me. Two paddles, battery. Perfect.
I ripped the wire from one paddle off and started wrapping it around the other.
This was gonna be ugly.
By the time I started wiring the first paddle's wire to the second's lead and bypassing the charge elements, the medics had moved over to see what I was doing.
"Holy shit- stop her!"
But before they could grab me I hopped over of the boy, kit in my hands, lowered it over his chest, and pulled the trigger on the paddle.
With a sickening meaty sound, a dozen or more shards wrenched themselves out of his body as I passed the makeshift electromagnet over him.
He immediately settled into an average teenager's frame. His heartbeat stabilized.
"Now he can use a hospital. Report me later. GO!"
The look they gave me was conflicted, but they reloaded him into their vehicle and took off.
I looked at the shards of metal frowned.
What the hell was this stuff?
A question for more important capes than me, for now.
I headed back into the building to turn them in and file a report.
[***]
In the end, the kid was saved. Long story short, he was fighting some ABB goons and then he was out. He didn't even know what hit him. Panacea confirmed it was a bomb, and took care of all the various damage.
My reckless move was neither lauded or scolded. After all the reports were in, Director Piggot decided I had acted to the best of my knowledge as well as I could have at the time. She then implied I might want to expand that knowledge if I wanted to be taken more seriously by medical personnel in the future. I agreed wholeheartedly.
Dennis got a bit of flak for not being present to freeze the boy; apparently he had just left the base to spend some free time in the city.
By the time the kid had gotten out of the hospital, he was talked into joining the Wards instead of being a solo vigilante. He took the name Browbeat and cheerfully relieved me of my newbie status.
Before he could settle in completely, however, the morning of February 24th dawned and we all awoke to hear that Behemoth had attacked Canberra.
They hadn't even woken us up to ask us if we wanted to join the fight.
Essence 3.1.3
A very hectic trip through the building later, and I was on scene to witness medics waving all sorts of sensors at a boy roughly my age - no, a man - wait, what?
His body was changing. Like, muscles flexing and then growing larger, then shrinking. Limbs stretched a bit and retracted. Bones stretching and retracting.
"ETA on Panacea?" said a medic.
"She was at a hospital upstate today, she won't be here for an hour at least barring a teleport," said another with a tablet.
I stepped up.
"Situation?" I asked.
They both looked at me and relaxed a bit. The first one spoke again.
"We're not sure what happened, but this kid was picked up around the ABB's territory. He's a parahuman, and we think the body changes are his power. We also think for whatever reason it's out of control. He was brought here instead of a hospital for obvious reasons; they can't possibly help him if his body is changing like this nonstop."
I took a deep breath and got closer. He was writing a bit, and bloodstains on his cut-and-removed shirt revealed some serious looking wounds.
Wounds that were healed and scarred over on his body.
Looking more, I saw a bunch of minor scrapes and bruises and cuts, and a few other more serious scars that matched bloodstains.
The portable EKG monitor bleeped irregularly. A glance at it showed a pattern that did not repeat smoothly. I froze, staring at it, a hand on his wrist.
Ba-dum.
BA-da-dum.
Ba-DUM.
I shook my head and took a deep breath. I could almost map it in my head.
"Internal bleeding, but otherwise heart is fine. Extremely stressed, but not damaged. I . . . I lack the medical vocabulary to describe further." The wrist under my hand warped and flexed and shrank. I repressed a shudder.
My mind whirled with options. Options that needed tools, clean tools, better equipment.
Damn it, dman damn damn! I could SEE his blood pressure falling.
Another deep breath.
I don't need to heal him.
I don't even need to fix what's wrong.
I just need to buy time until someone arrives who can do those things.
Inhale, exhale.
"Ah, Lightshow? You okay?"
"Kid froze up, first time seeing something like this. Nothing unusual."
I slowly shook my head and replied.
"No, it's not that. I need . . . I know what I could do with the right tools, but this isn't a hospital, and the hospital doesn't have the scanning equipment, and . . . "
I eyed a spent morphine cartridge that had been injected from a hypo-gun.
"And I don't think any of them will matter a damn if he isn't going to hold still."
Both medics were looking at me when I glanced back. Neither were smiling. Both nodded.
"There are ways we can paralyze a patient, but going beyond drugging is a little . . . " he faded out.
I looked back at the boy. Definitely a boy my age; the face was too young, even for the occasional Olympic-bodybuilder-class frame that he warped partially into and out of.
I could break his spine.
It would be fixed as soon as Panacea arrived. He'd only be paralyzed for a little while. It would barely even hurt.
I rolled him onto his side and considered it. His vertebrae writhed and warped like the rest of him.
No. I don't know if the warping would stop even if I did that. It wasn't a very nice thing to consider, regardless.
The EKG showed the blood loss was accelerating. Whatever holes inside him were leaking were getting bigger and/or having blood squeezed out of him by the warping in turn. He had four or five minutes left at this rate.
I rolled him back onto his back. Little wounds. Scratches.
Scratches? On his chest?
I pried open one scratch. It was actually a hole. I poked a finger inside, heedless of infection risk. Found something sharp. Pulled it out. Metal.
Shrapnel.
"I need a magnet!" I snapped.
"Ah, we don't exactly have one on hand. What kind do you need?"
They were concerned, but professional. They didn't see that the patient was on his way out; I couldn't blame them, and it wasn't worth the time to berate them for it.
I looked around their assorted supplies. The defibrillator. Perfect.
"Pass me the defib!"
It was slid over. They glanced at each other.
"Ah, Lightshow, maybe this isn't the best idea? He's not actually flat-lining at the moment, you know?"
I faced away from them with the portable pack open in front of me. Two paddles, battery. Perfect.
I ripped the wire from one paddle off and started wrapping it around the other.
This was gonna be ugly.
By the time I started wiring the first paddle's wire to the second's lead and bypassing the charge elements, the medics had moved over to see what I was doing.
"Holy shit- stop her!"
But before they could grab me I hopped over of the boy, kit in my hands, lowered it over his chest, and pulled the trigger on the paddle.
With a sickening meaty sound, a dozen or more shards wrenched themselves out of his body as I passed the makeshift electromagnet over him.
He immediately settled into an average teenager's frame. His heartbeat stabilized.
"Now he can use a hospital. Report me later. GO!"
The look they gave me was conflicted, but they reloaded him into their vehicle and took off.
I looked at the shards of metal frowned.
What the hell was this stuff?
A question for more important capes than me, for now.
I headed back into the building to turn them in and file a report.
[***]
In the end, the kid was saved. Long story short, he was fighting some ABB goons and then he was out. He didn't even know what hit him. Panacea confirmed it was a bomb, and took care of all the various damage.
My reckless move was neither lauded or scolded. After all the reports were in, Director Piggot decided I had acted to the best of my knowledge as well as I could have at the time. She then implied I might want to expand that knowledge if I wanted to be taken more seriously by medical personnel in the future. I agreed wholeheartedly.
Dennis got a bit of flak for not being present to freeze the boy; apparently he had just left the base to spend some free time in the city.
By the time the kid had gotten out of the hospital, he was talked into joining the Wards instead of being a solo vigilante. He took the name Browbeat and cheerfully relieved me of my newbie status.
Before he could settle in completely, however, the morning of February 24th dawned and we all awoke to hear that Behemoth had attacked Canberra.
They hadn't even woken us up to ask us if we wanted to join the fight.
Well now. An interesting take on Browbeat's Trigger Event.
The Schedule has changed...
The Schedule has changed...
Golden Lark
The First Fiction User
Not necessarily his trigger, just the event that got him the Wards' attention.landcollector said:Well now. An interesting take on Browbeat's Trigger Event.
Also: you pay way too much attention to detail. Next you'll be wildly predicting which endbringer I'll drop on BB, if I bother to at all.
After all, Glorious Solar Taylor should be able to turn BB into a perfect utopia long before that happens.
Peace and harmony for all!
Hahaha!Golden Lark said:
Hmmm, how about Behemoth attacking twice in a row? That's going to scare the hell out of everyone.Golden Lark said: