YuffieK
(Verified Ninja Princess)
Definitely not the majority of them though. After all, Purity isn't the statuesque blond, blue-eyed ideal that Fenja and Menja represent. So it basically boils down to
Scaling Up
- Thread starter Kryslin
- Start date
Definitely not the majority of them though. After all, Purity isn't the statuesque blond, blue-eyed ideal that Fenja and Menja represent. So it basically boils down to
- Location
- Here
You may be underestimating the effects of decades of hostility towards all things Russian thanks to the Cold War, combined with the strong anti-Russian view held by the historical Nazis. Even a hint of being Russian may well set these idiots off.
Plus, a lack of specific ethnic features may well imply being of mixed heritage, which WILL set them off. After all, being only "part white" means their ancestors "fraternized with the enemy"...
Kryslin
[Has Delusions of Authorship]
- Location
- Mythic Iowa
When Taylor triggered, she'd disappeared from every Precog's sight. Any thinker that has tried to do more than a cursory application of their power to her report/file/actions after that have been stricken with severe thinker headaches. Postcognitives are the least affected.
LostArchivist
Sane, unfortunately.
- Location
- The State of Confusion
...I see?
In that case, you may want to change "getting" to "get" and there's still the ambiguity issue, where the object of the sentence can move around like that...
Empire 03 Beschwichtigung
Kryslin
[Has Delusions of Authorship]
- Location
- Mythic Iowa
Monday, 11 April 2011
The day had started out rather miserable, with early morning showers begrudgingly giving way to a nice spring day, spoiled only by the occasional evaporating puddle and work zone. Brockton Bay was still slowly rebuilding from Bakuda's – or to borrow a phrase from an Asian community podcaster, Baka-uda's – rather pointless rampage. Various villain groups had gone on record as stating that she was being held up as an example of what not to do, namely do something without up-to-date intelligence, letting your Behemoth-sized ego get in the way and do something that would demand the Triumvirate's attention.
For others, it was approaching lunchtime, and a specific woman was sitting at a table in one of Brockton Bay's more upscale eateries. She'd dressed well, a rather professional look, with the warm colors of her jacket, blouse, and slacks. She'd been looking over the menu when she was joined by her lunchtime appointment.
Maximilian Anders dressed the part of the wealthy business executive. Expensive suit, a haircut that cost more than most people made in a week, shoes that cost more than a month's normal wages, an urbane manner, a honeyed tongue, and about as trustworthy as California bedrock. "Hello Kayden," he said, taking the seat opposite her.
"Hello, Max." Further greetings were interrupted by the waiter who had come to take their orders. After the man had left with their requests, Kayden Russel looked at her ex-husband and got straight to the point. "What do you want?"
"I'd like you to come back," he said, looking at her.
Kayden scowled at her ex-husband. "After I caught you in bed with both Jessica and Nessa, I thought I'd made my position on that crystal clear. You and I are done." Despite the harshness of the words, the conversation was quiet. What she didn't say openly was at that time that she'd also cut her ties with the Empire 88, the Parahuman gang that her estranged husband ran.
"Not that back, but back to Medhall. I'm quite willing to negotiate," Max said with a slight smile. "I need your services for a period of time. To gain them, I'm willing to make some concessions."
Kayden had already guessed what Max really meant. "Before I even think of coming back to 'Medhall', I want custody of both Aster and Theo," she stated flatly.
The pleasant, urbane smile on Max's face slipped a little. "Kayden, you should know better than that," he said smoothly. "I was thinking about not burying you in court." He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Maybe you don't understand, Max," Kayden explained. "I finally saw what was going on. I finally realized that you are using everyone else for your own ends, not for any 'cause.'" She paused to take a sip of her water. "As for that, I had my eyes opened to a great many things, including history. Yes, I'll miss my friends. But I won't miss the hatred and the bigotry.
Kayden spoke very quietly. "Then I realized that if the Empire goes down – and all empires fall, Mr. Anders – there will be no one to take care of Theo and Aster. The system doesn't treat the children of villains well. I want them to have a chance at a good life, Max. Theo's already told me what you've put him through." She looked thoughtful before continuing. "No, I don't think I'll be coming back, Max."
With that, Kayden got up and left, and headed for the door. She'd make her own arrangements for lunch. Maybe she'd try that new dragon-themed burger Fugly Bob's was promoting.
Max sat at the table in the café. He'd eaten his own lunch there and had told the waiter that something had come up with his companion, but he would still pay for both meals. He gave the waiter a tip, despite him being one of the various minorities in Brockton Bay. If there was one thing Kayden had right it was the fact that he wasn't in it for The Cause™. No, it was all about power and money. He didn't care about how many lives he ruined, nor how many of his minions would get arrested or killed; merely annoyed at having to find suitable replacements. He wanted power. His late father's gang was simply a means to an end.
It was now time to use other means to put pressure on his ex-wife, to get her to return to the Empire 88, and back under his control.
Max's departure was watched by a pair sitting at another table, suitably dressed for what an observer would assume to be affluent citizens; well dressed, but not overly so. The woman was dressed tastefully, with a white silk blouse, and a deep emerald green jacket and matching slacks. Her exotic, Middle Eastern features were complemented by hair so dark a red it may as well be black, and ruby red eyes. To finish things off, she wore a silver ring set with a brilliant blue sapphire.
Her companion was dressed conservatively, in clothes befitting someone in upper management. A light grey suit, finely tailored, went well with his steel-grey hair and striking blue eyes. There was something compelling about him, an air that said if he asked you to follow him into the depths of Hell, you would gladly do so.
Sitting with them in non-descript clothes were Kira and Sonja. The pair would look about occasionally as they ate a much smaller lunch than their charges.
The avatar of Bahamut leaned back in his chair. "You were correct in assuming that there is something else at work here besides the obvious. And well-hidden, at least until our involvement."
Tia nodded in agreement. "Indeed. It is simply more than corrupt politicians and criminal gangs. There is something else at work here, something insidious."
"Things have started to look up for the first time in years," Kira added. "With all but one Parahuman gang having been dismantled, we only have the one to deal with before others decide to move in."
Sonja nodded. "Fortunately, the reputation of a single Ward is making gangs like the Teeth and the Fallen rather nervous about moving into the region. Several Parahuman-led groups have been considering making overtures to Naurelin."
Bahamut raised an eyebrow. "That isn't normal, is it?" he asked.
Sonja shook his head. "Not usually, but Accord is one of the more tractable and sensible Villains, and sticks to his agreements."
"It will be interesting to see how Lendys' choice reacts," observed Bahamut.
"Yes, it will," added Tia with a slight smile.
Emily Piggot looked around the office she was currently cleaning out. Memories were lurking in the various corners of the room, none of them terribly happy, many of them sad. She had cleaned the last of her belongings out of her desk into a pair of boxes, including something she had never opened while she'd been director of the PRT ENE. The label on the bottle of whiskey was faded and yellowed and looked rather old. Likewise, the two shot glasses in their case also bore the signs of age.
"I'd never thought I'd be walking out of this post," she said to the supposedly empty room.
"Given your health, Director, you would have been correct in assuming you would have died at your desk." Miss Militia had silently come up behind her, quiet enough that even with Emily's enhanced senses, she could barely hear her.
"All too true," Emily Piggot gave a rueful smile. "At least this is a sideways promotion. Mike Renick will do good as the new Director of the PRT ENE, and I'll be glad to be able to get out and do some field work again." With that, she easily picked up one of the heavy boxes and waited for Hannah.
Miss Militia picked up the other box and began walking over to the elevators and down a couple of floors to where Emily's new office would be. "It's going to be interesting, having an SOG here in the Bay again," she commented as they walked through the office space of the old Special Operations Group. The personnel attached to this office had been transferred elsewhere over the years, or dishonorably discharged since the few who had remained in the area had been found to be in the pay of one of the local gangs.
"I wonder what changed their minds?" Miss Militia asked as she set the box down in Emily's new office.
"Four things: Naurelin, Dragon, Mizuchi, and myself." She sat down in her office chair and pulled out the bottle of ancient whiskey and the two glasses. "Plus a few others. Care to join me?"
"Two fingers, neat," Miss Militia replied, pulling up another chair.
Emily cracked the seal on the bottle and poured the measured amount into the two glasses. "To interesting times," she said before knocking hers back.
Miss Militia sighed before drinking hers. "I wish you hadn't said that."
Emily raised an eyebrow. "'Fraid I've jinxed something?"
"Your crew may find themselves very busy in the near future," Miss Militia continued. "Many of our informers think the Empire is about to kick something off. Worse, it may not be the Parahumans who start it."
Emily nodded, setting her glass down. "I know, I'd read the reports earlier as part of my security briefing today, along with a report from the BATF about someone delivering a shipment of Javelin ATMs to Brockton Bay."
"Armsmaster has seen it," Miss Militia added. "The most likely target for such is either him, one of Dragon's suits, or one or more actual dragons. Less likely are the two warships out in the bay."
Emily gave a snort of amusement. "If they were normal ships, I'd say they only had a slim chance of damaging the destroyer. Those two ships are anything but normal."
There was a knock at the door. "It looks like my three o'clock appointment's here. I'll catch up with you later," Emily said to Miss Militia as she rose to greet her visitor. "So, Captain Jones," she said as she sat down behind her very cluttered desk. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, and what does the US Navy want from my office?"
Capt. Jones handed her his ID and a sealed envelope. "Mainly courtesy," he admitted, sitting down, as Emily opened the envelope and read its contents.
"I see," she said after a bit, handing the man back his ID. "We can tell you how to get in contact with the various parties. However, interviewing Ms. Wales and Ms. Arunta may require going through the Royal Navy attache's office at the Embassy."
Captain Jones nodded. "I've already had a chat with Captain Pearson. He's agreed to help. My team and I are mainly assisting the Coast Guard with their ongoing actions against Gesellschaft and your Empire 88…"
Natalie was nearing the homeless shelter for her after school civics work when an all too familiar person stepped out of the shadows with about a dozen of his skinhead buddies, and all of them were carrying something much nastier than brass knuckles.
"Your darky cape friend isn't here to protect you now," he sneered, slapping the end of the baseball bat into his left hand.
"If you guys want my money, you can have it," Natalie offered.
"Nah, you're going to need the money for your medical bills." He gestured to one of his buddies, who immediately walked up and punched Natalie in the stomach.
Of the many things that Natalie had been taught, one was how to roll with a punch. She was just beginning to do so when the ganger's fist hit her anyway. There was a rather horrifying crunch as the man's hand broke in multiple places. She hadn't felt much of the blow, just that someone had tried to punch her, and ran afoul of the fact that she was far more than she appeared.
There was a moment of silence as the dozen or so gang members regarded the girl, broken by the injured skinhead cursing his shattered hand. At a gesture from the leader, two ran back to the truck the group had been using while the rest drew handguns. "Fuckin' cape," he snarled. "Let's see how you handle being shot."
Natalie saw the weapons the two were bringing from the truck and realized that this wasn't going to end peaceably. While the group was waiting for the two with the Kalashnikovs to jack their weapons, Natalie said a couple of words, casting up what little defensive wards she knew. She pressed the panic button on her phone before the Empire opened up with everything they had.
She felt the impacts of several dozen bullets shredding her clothes and breaking her phone. There were sharp pains as a couple of the AK-47 rounds made it through and actually wounded her. The pain helped focus her anger. When the bullets stopped, the gangers stared. Natalie was still standing, her clothes shredded, blood oozing from multiple shallow wounds. Fuck this charade, she inwardly cursed. I'm not going to get killed because of it. The grin she wore was positively frightening. "My turn," she said, and she changed, not holding anything back.
One of the last things that went through the leader's head before he fainted was "Fuck, that escalated quickly." He landed in one of the puddles lingering from the morning's rain along with a couple of others, but the guys with the AKs had switched magazines and were getting ready to open up again.
Naichi inhaled, and the gangers' fingers pulled on the triggers…
The day had started out rather miserable, with early morning showers begrudgingly giving way to a nice spring day, spoiled only by the occasional evaporating puddle and work zone. Brockton Bay was still slowly rebuilding from Bakuda's – or to borrow a phrase from an Asian community podcaster, Baka-uda's – rather pointless rampage. Various villain groups had gone on record as stating that she was being held up as an example of what not to do, namely do something without up-to-date intelligence, letting your Behemoth-sized ego get in the way and do something that would demand the Triumvirate's attention.
For others, it was approaching lunchtime, and a specific woman was sitting at a table in one of Brockton Bay's more upscale eateries. She'd dressed well, a rather professional look, with the warm colors of her jacket, blouse, and slacks. She'd been looking over the menu when she was joined by her lunchtime appointment.
Maximilian Anders dressed the part of the wealthy business executive. Expensive suit, a haircut that cost more than most people made in a week, shoes that cost more than a month's normal wages, an urbane manner, a honeyed tongue, and about as trustworthy as California bedrock. "Hello Kayden," he said, taking the seat opposite her.
"Hello, Max." Further greetings were interrupted by the waiter who had come to take their orders. After the man had left with their requests, Kayden Russel looked at her ex-husband and got straight to the point. "What do you want?"
"I'd like you to come back," he said, looking at her.
Kayden scowled at her ex-husband. "After I caught you in bed with both Jessica and Nessa, I thought I'd made my position on that crystal clear. You and I are done." Despite the harshness of the words, the conversation was quiet. What she didn't say openly was at that time that she'd also cut her ties with the Empire 88, the Parahuman gang that her estranged husband ran.
"Not that back, but back to Medhall. I'm quite willing to negotiate," Max said with a slight smile. "I need your services for a period of time. To gain them, I'm willing to make some concessions."
Kayden had already guessed what Max really meant. "Before I even think of coming back to 'Medhall', I want custody of both Aster and Theo," she stated flatly.
The pleasant, urbane smile on Max's face slipped a little. "Kayden, you should know better than that," he said smoothly. "I was thinking about not burying you in court." He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Maybe you don't understand, Max," Kayden explained. "I finally saw what was going on. I finally realized that you are using everyone else for your own ends, not for any 'cause.'" She paused to take a sip of her water. "As for that, I had my eyes opened to a great many things, including history. Yes, I'll miss my friends. But I won't miss the hatred and the bigotry.
Kayden spoke very quietly. "Then I realized that if the Empire goes down – and all empires fall, Mr. Anders – there will be no one to take care of Theo and Aster. The system doesn't treat the children of villains well. I want them to have a chance at a good life, Max. Theo's already told me what you've put him through." She looked thoughtful before continuing. "No, I don't think I'll be coming back, Max."
With that, Kayden got up and left, and headed for the door. She'd make her own arrangements for lunch. Maybe she'd try that new dragon-themed burger Fugly Bob's was promoting.
- - - - - - - - - -
Max sat at the table in the café. He'd eaten his own lunch there and had told the waiter that something had come up with his companion, but he would still pay for both meals. He gave the waiter a tip, despite him being one of the various minorities in Brockton Bay. If there was one thing Kayden had right it was the fact that he wasn't in it for The Cause™. No, it was all about power and money. He didn't care about how many lives he ruined, nor how many of his minions would get arrested or killed; merely annoyed at having to find suitable replacements. He wanted power. His late father's gang was simply a means to an end.
It was now time to use other means to put pressure on his ex-wife, to get her to return to the Empire 88, and back under his control.
//\\//\\//\\
Max's departure was watched by a pair sitting at another table, suitably dressed for what an observer would assume to be affluent citizens; well dressed, but not overly so. The woman was dressed tastefully, with a white silk blouse, and a deep emerald green jacket and matching slacks. Her exotic, Middle Eastern features were complemented by hair so dark a red it may as well be black, and ruby red eyes. To finish things off, she wore a silver ring set with a brilliant blue sapphire.
Her companion was dressed conservatively, in clothes befitting someone in upper management. A light grey suit, finely tailored, went well with his steel-grey hair and striking blue eyes. There was something compelling about him, an air that said if he asked you to follow him into the depths of Hell, you would gladly do so.
Sitting with them in non-descript clothes were Kira and Sonja. The pair would look about occasionally as they ate a much smaller lunch than their charges.
The avatar of Bahamut leaned back in his chair. "You were correct in assuming that there is something else at work here besides the obvious. And well-hidden, at least until our involvement."
Tia nodded in agreement. "Indeed. It is simply more than corrupt politicians and criminal gangs. There is something else at work here, something insidious."
"Things have started to look up for the first time in years," Kira added. "With all but one Parahuman gang having been dismantled, we only have the one to deal with before others decide to move in."
Sonja nodded. "Fortunately, the reputation of a single Ward is making gangs like the Teeth and the Fallen rather nervous about moving into the region. Several Parahuman-led groups have been considering making overtures to Naurelin."
Bahamut raised an eyebrow. "That isn't normal, is it?" he asked.
Sonja shook his head. "Not usually, but Accord is one of the more tractable and sensible Villains, and sticks to his agreements."
"It will be interesting to see how Lendys' choice reacts," observed Bahamut.
"Yes, it will," added Tia with a slight smile.
//\\//\\//\\
Emily Piggot looked around the office she was currently cleaning out. Memories were lurking in the various corners of the room, none of them terribly happy, many of them sad. She had cleaned the last of her belongings out of her desk into a pair of boxes, including something she had never opened while she'd been director of the PRT ENE. The label on the bottle of whiskey was faded and yellowed and looked rather old. Likewise, the two shot glasses in their case also bore the signs of age.
"I'd never thought I'd be walking out of this post," she said to the supposedly empty room.
"Given your health, Director, you would have been correct in assuming you would have died at your desk." Miss Militia had silently come up behind her, quiet enough that even with Emily's enhanced senses, she could barely hear her.
"All too true," Emily Piggot gave a rueful smile. "At least this is a sideways promotion. Mike Renick will do good as the new Director of the PRT ENE, and I'll be glad to be able to get out and do some field work again." With that, she easily picked up one of the heavy boxes and waited for Hannah.
Miss Militia picked up the other box and began walking over to the elevators and down a couple of floors to where Emily's new office would be. "It's going to be interesting, having an SOG here in the Bay again," she commented as they walked through the office space of the old Special Operations Group. The personnel attached to this office had been transferred elsewhere over the years, or dishonorably discharged since the few who had remained in the area had been found to be in the pay of one of the local gangs.
"I wonder what changed their minds?" Miss Militia asked as she set the box down in Emily's new office.
"Four things: Naurelin, Dragon, Mizuchi, and myself." She sat down in her office chair and pulled out the bottle of ancient whiskey and the two glasses. "Plus a few others. Care to join me?"
"Two fingers, neat," Miss Militia replied, pulling up another chair.
Emily cracked the seal on the bottle and poured the measured amount into the two glasses. "To interesting times," she said before knocking hers back.
Miss Militia sighed before drinking hers. "I wish you hadn't said that."
Emily raised an eyebrow. "'Fraid I've jinxed something?"
"Your crew may find themselves very busy in the near future," Miss Militia continued. "Many of our informers think the Empire is about to kick something off. Worse, it may not be the Parahumans who start it."
Emily nodded, setting her glass down. "I know, I'd read the reports earlier as part of my security briefing today, along with a report from the BATF about someone delivering a shipment of Javelin ATMs to Brockton Bay."
"Armsmaster has seen it," Miss Militia added. "The most likely target for such is either him, one of Dragon's suits, or one or more actual dragons. Less likely are the two warships out in the bay."
Emily gave a snort of amusement. "If they were normal ships, I'd say they only had a slim chance of damaging the destroyer. Those two ships are anything but normal."
There was a knock at the door. "It looks like my three o'clock appointment's here. I'll catch up with you later," Emily said to Miss Militia as she rose to greet her visitor. "So, Captain Jones," she said as she sat down behind her very cluttered desk. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, and what does the US Navy want from my office?"
Capt. Jones handed her his ID and a sealed envelope. "Mainly courtesy," he admitted, sitting down, as Emily opened the envelope and read its contents.
"I see," she said after a bit, handing the man back his ID. "We can tell you how to get in contact with the various parties. However, interviewing Ms. Wales and Ms. Arunta may require going through the Royal Navy attache's office at the Embassy."
Captain Jones nodded. "I've already had a chat with Captain Pearson. He's agreed to help. My team and I are mainly assisting the Coast Guard with their ongoing actions against Gesellschaft and your Empire 88…"
//\\//\\//\\
Natalie was nearing the homeless shelter for her after school civics work when an all too familiar person stepped out of the shadows with about a dozen of his skinhead buddies, and all of them were carrying something much nastier than brass knuckles.
"Your darky cape friend isn't here to protect you now," he sneered, slapping the end of the baseball bat into his left hand.
"If you guys want my money, you can have it," Natalie offered.
"Nah, you're going to need the money for your medical bills." He gestured to one of his buddies, who immediately walked up and punched Natalie in the stomach.
Of the many things that Natalie had been taught, one was how to roll with a punch. She was just beginning to do so when the ganger's fist hit her anyway. There was a rather horrifying crunch as the man's hand broke in multiple places. She hadn't felt much of the blow, just that someone had tried to punch her, and ran afoul of the fact that she was far more than she appeared.
There was a moment of silence as the dozen or so gang members regarded the girl, broken by the injured skinhead cursing his shattered hand. At a gesture from the leader, two ran back to the truck the group had been using while the rest drew handguns. "Fuckin' cape," he snarled. "Let's see how you handle being shot."
Natalie saw the weapons the two were bringing from the truck and realized that this wasn't going to end peaceably. While the group was waiting for the two with the Kalashnikovs to jack their weapons, Natalie said a couple of words, casting up what little defensive wards she knew. She pressed the panic button on her phone before the Empire opened up with everything they had.
She felt the impacts of several dozen bullets shredding her clothes and breaking her phone. There were sharp pains as a couple of the AK-47 rounds made it through and actually wounded her. The pain helped focus her anger. When the bullets stopped, the gangers stared. Natalie was still standing, her clothes shredded, blood oozing from multiple shallow wounds. Fuck this charade, she inwardly cursed. I'm not going to get killed because of it. The grin she wore was positively frightening. "My turn," she said, and she changed, not holding anything back.
One of the last things that went through the leader's head before he fainted was "Fuck, that escalated quickly." He landed in one of the puddles lingering from the morning's rain along with a couple of others, but the guys with the AKs had switched magazines and were getting ready to open up again.
Naichi inhaled, and the gangers' fingers pulled on the triggers…
Sandy River DL
(Verified Destroyer Leader)
- Location
- Lake Michigan
- Pronouns
- Her/She
Well, you do live in a city housing Taylor Hebert...
Leechblade
Orientation Nitpicking
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Well....
Gangster scum getting the Draconian smackdown? Enjoy the taste of that curb scumwads! And thank heavens that Purity has her head on straight!
Shame our favorite dragon (Taylor) can't rescue a certain teddy-bear prince though!
Gangster scum getting the Draconian smackdown? Enjoy the taste of that curb scumwads! And thank heavens that Purity has her head on straight!
Shame our favorite dragon (Taylor) can't rescue a certain teddy-bear prince though!
FaerieKnight79
Verified Pixie
- Location
- The Internet
Max trying to be charming only to get shot down...
Maybe Francis getting uppity only to get ripped a new one...
And the PRT being well aware of the fact the E88 just got in some serious ordinance they really aren't suppose to have...
It's like Christmas came early
Maybe Francis getting uppity only to get ripped a new one...
And the PRT being well aware of the fact the E88 just got in some serious ordinance they really aren't suppose to have...
It's like Christmas came early
Rajvik_wolfboy
Wolf amongst the stars.
- Location
- Florida
part of me wants to laugh, mostly because i need one, but you get a like because i just can't get a laugh out right now
Fuck the Empire
Fuck the Empire
- Location
- Deep in the Badlands of Equestria
The Empire nook squad drew blood. The biggest question is whether Nat's upcoming smackdown will be sufficient, or if her folks are going to want their pound of flesh as well. Hopefully, they chose a place for this attack that didn't have any video camera coverage, so a good bit of memory charming can fix things... if there are any survivors, that is.
FaerieKnight79
Verified Pixie
- Location
- The Internet
Please don't insult Tom Nook or his sons. They might be greedy raccoons and possibly con artists, but they are not nazi.
Jonn Wolfe
(Verified Sarcastic) (Not a Wolf)
- Location
- Beyond Sanity Since 1971
It's always funny to see idiots bite off more than they get chewed with.
Sort of like watching that annoying twat poking a bear get eaten, and his last thought being "Maybe I should've used something longer than a yardstick."
Sort of like watching that annoying twat poking a bear get eaten, and his last thought being "Maybe I should've used something longer than a yardstick."
YuffieK
(Verified Ninja Princess)
In this case, very much yes. After all, dragons are rather rare.
Do you HONESTLY expect that to happen?
ScottotheUnwise
Verified Crack (fic) Dealer
- Location
- Mulberry, Fl
Hmmm. Max getting shot down by Kayden... Why DOES that sound familiar?
But still, Mr. It's-only-business is headed for getting the business in this fic as well. Le sigh.
Francis, you have a new calling. They are going to tattoo you with 'George' across the forehead, you know. That is what Dragons call knights that ineffectively attack over and over.
Hmm. I am actually surprised that no one tried an ATM against Lung early in his transformation. I mean, if they can get several shipped in on short notice and all.
YuffieK
(Verified Ninja Princess)
A .50 caliber anti-materiel round to Lung's head, if you caught him unawares, should be more than enough. Victor or Miss Militia could pull those shots off. However, just because Kaiser might WANT Lung dead, there's the ramifications of killing him to deal with.
Namely, that he would've been assassinated in his civilian ID (before ramping up).
Then again, nobody's actually tried sniping him because they're not entirely sure that it would work. I remember at least one fic where Lung was decapitated with a headshot. He got back up.
I don't think HMAS Arunta would appreciate getting lumped in with the English like that. Laid down in Sydney and spent more time with the US 7th Fleet than anything else.
mook
Also, I have a nasty suspicion that Natalie is about to be in a world of hurt, if not dead. They changed magazines, and I'd bet that they didn't put in the same stuff they'd been using. I suspect that they put in AP ammo.
Fun fact: You can buy .22 calibre incendiary (Firestorm) and explosive (Devastator) rounds. And if you can buy them in .22 calibre...
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clonezero
Is it a bad thing if my t read list keeps growing?
Later that same day:
Raucous laughter erupted from inside the police guarded ward. Inside was a strange scene, a detective in tears from laughing so hard and around him were people in full body casts.
Trying to compose himself he just says "Yes, I do think that "turning herself into a dragon" counts as self defense".
Raucous laughter erupted from inside the police guarded ward. Inside was a strange scene, a detective in tears from laughing so hard and around him were people in full body casts.
Trying to compose himself he just says "Yes, I do think that "turning herself into a dragon" counts as self defense".
Jadesteele
Out of my Mind - Back in 5 Minutes
- Location
- half-way between 'Crazy' And 'Eccentric'
Wait, when did this happen... oh, you mean she turned him down (I was hoping you meant LITERALLY.)
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FaerieKnight79
Verified Pixie
- Location
- The Internet
Isn't it beautiful when people like Max have their house of cards crumble around them, in no small part due to their own actions and ideologies?
I was under the impression they changed magazine because they went full-auto and emptied the first ones.
- Location
- Deep in the Badlands of Equestria
Yes, but considering the dragon Capes walking around already, I could see the Empire passing out a few magazines of special ammo to test. At least for certain special members. And if Francis had access to an armory key, can't you see him deciding that his crew deserved to be on the select list regardless of what more responsible leaders might think?
Not his fault he doesn't have access to any of the reports about the full extent of a dragon's armor ratings.
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ScottotheUnwise
Verified Crack (fic) Dealer
- Location
- Mulberry, Fl
I was. Just in my fic
Follow the link if you will...
Drummer Girl.
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