Valor City - CVnU Location

Oh wow, we're rolling!

@lebreau_liafador:

Abigail stared at Mr. Craig Potts with her one good eye. The other, while as useless as it ever was since the incident, had been concealed with a glamour lens designed to give the eye itself normal appearance, save for the scar from her cheek to her brow. Even still, the short, fat man looked just as uncomfortable in her presence as she felt in his. Potts was her last step in securing space in the city to begin establishing the first of hopefully many Ambrose shelters. (And, unbeknownst to him, she'd begin looking to establish a fian or several within the city.) Valor City had been struggling since well before it became Valor. Recovery from its seminal event was slow going, and its condition worsened even more so after the most recent crisis in Gothic—a trend which hadn't gone over her head, and which the veteran heroine was unwilling to attribute to random chance. She was there to help. It was obvious, and far more than the United States government seemed to be doing for the city. And yet Potts was ambivalent at best to have the Aensland heiress on his doorstep.

She didn't take it personally. As much as trouble followed her personally, a dose of anxiety was more than justified. Besides he didn't seem to let fear influence the negotiations. Signing and initialling the final page of a too-long document, "Congratulations Miss Aensland," he said, shuffling them back into their rightful order. "Give me a minute and I'll have your copy ready for you."

But her attention had already faded, as in the midst of his signing sirens stole her away. "That's alright," Abigail responded absently, already halfway to the door. "Just forward them to my email. So sorry!" She practically tossed the apology over her shoulder as a formality, not that she thought he'd mind her absence. Whatever incident they'd both heard was moving quickly and couldn't wait.

Unfortunately it also couldn't wait for a full change of attire. Strapping the nanite bow to her waist, modified quiver to her leg, Abigail's candy apple red Yamaha FJR1300 roared to life and the heroine claimed the streets.

Thanks to the NOOCS lens in her eye, with but a thought she'd already begun tracking movements and communications of the local law enforcement. That would give her a starting point but she had to get ahead of them. From there Aeon's quantum computer began accessing traffic cameras and cell phone footage to pin down which direction the perpetrators were headed in. Tire marks and shell casings did the rest.

Yup. Has to be carryovers from Gothic. It was an all too familiar scenario. Reckless endangerment followed by a retreat to a moderately-to-extremely dilapidated hole in the wall. She parked her bike roughly a block away as not to give away her position, sprinting and vaulting the rest of her way to the warehouse.

It would, she decided, be ideal to try and get a bird's eye view of the situation. Way easier to get seen and shot when approaching at eye-level. But just as the archer prepared to nock her grappling arrow a secondary rumbling drew her attention from the other side of the alley. Abigail nocked the arrow anyway. It'd hurt just as much to be shot with as the standard fare. There was some contempt in her thoughts—that is, until she'd seen the source of the distraction. A girl - clearly young, even if her face wasn't entirely visible. In league with those already inside, or just looking to help? God, I hope I'm not wrong about this. Holding the bow aside in a less threatening gesture, Arquitenens inched closer and gave a whistle for the girl's attention, stopping some three yards from her, close enough to hear a low voice but far enough to react if things were gonna get nasty.

"Stop right there. Who are you and why are you here?"

@arquitenens: DAMN that flowed sooo well. I liked it! I should have a post up maybe tommorrow.

@catalina_liafador: Thank you! I feel validated.

@arquitenens:

The irony, and the worse kind. The would-be hero, known in Gothic as "Quiver" actually managed to forget her quiver. What to do now? did she abort the mission and head home? It was plausible but she really couldn't listen to Bethany chastize her for leaving her arrows.

She could persist, still, there was the probability of her getting her ass beat and having to go home and get chastised by Bethany. The Young Liafador stood in the alleyway hardly inconspicuous trying to think about the next move.

The time to make up her mind wouldn't come; a noise (More Specifically a whistle) Chance turned with her arms immediately shooting skyward clearly startled at the authority in the newcomer's voice.

"Whoa, just hold up" She kinda yelled but with more of a hushed tone given the circumstances surrounding them. Her head tilt to the side just a bit after noticing the bow. "My name is Quiver, I came here to help. Or at least I was until I realized I left my arrows at home. Wait, are you going in there? Can I help you?"

This situation was awkward all of it, the chances that TWO archers would be in the same place responding to the same call was unlikely but it appeared as if fate smiled on Chance. She was more than capable as a fight, her archery skills left more to be desired but she was confident that both of them could tackle a bunch of...well she didn't know what was going on inside the warehouse.

"GAS!" She heard one of the officers scream from not so far away, thick yellowish gas poured from the warehouse as a deterrent to keep the cops from entering. Chance simply nodded upwards revealing massive central fans on top of the building. She didn't have a gas mask but she did have a plan. The industrial fans worked both ways, able to suck toxic fumes from the building into the atmosphere--if they still worked.

Oh, that is low-key adorable.

@lebreau_liafador:

Abigail breathed a sigh of relief, stepping closer to the girl in order to guide her against the opposite wall. It'd felt like years since she'd trusted a stranger implicitly, but there and then she was willing to give this "Quiver" the benefit of the doubt. A fallacy to be sure, but her demeanour along with the mistake lent themselves to a certain picture of innocence.

Quiver?...Well, it works, she acquiesced with a shrug. Aside from the "left it at home" bit. As serious as things were, it took a real effort to stifle the laughter trying to force its way out. Besides, one could just as soon poke at how dramatic a name like "Arquitenens" was. At least she had the sense to don a mask when starting out. Unlike some archers I know.

"I..." Abigail sighed, passing a glance between the young aspiring heroine and the gas now pouring from the warehouse. There wasn't time enough for a full interview process but her conscience wouldn't allow her to make the decision lightly; she doubted it could take the weight of another body. Beyond yes or no, how she answered mattered. A hard "no" and Quiver was just as likely to go in alone, unarmed, and put herself at even greater risk.

"Why do I get the feeling that's a rhetorical question? I'm going inside. You can help," she acquiesced, willing to acknowledge at least that the fans were a good idea, "but I'm taking point and I'll need you to engage as conservatively as possible, understand? Whoever's inside is heavily armed and you don't currently have anything. That means if I say bail, you bail.

"Can you take care of the fans? I can make way and prep our hosts for your arrival. Then we can both be less afraid of the fact I'm pretty sure you've already made up your mind about helping." If she could get Quiver to hang back a bit then she'd get to work cleaning up the mess as quickly as possible, allowing time and fate to determine how much she could get done in the allotted time. If nothing else Abby would be able to reduce the threat level for her.

@ezra_strix:

The Knightfall Saint sat quietly in her office at the Children’s Hospital. The room was dark as all that was lit was her computer screen, the video playing back on her monitor was reflecting off her glasses as she watched with alarming concern. Several weeks ago that her hospital was ‘attacked’. She was told by others not to come in, fearing the safety of the CEO, so she stayed back. But tonight, she decided it had been long enough, and it was time to see what had come for her hospital. Children, too young too weak to defend themselves had heart attacks due to fear. Their hair was as white as their skin and their eyes frozen open from the horror they witnessed. Several of her nurse killed themselves while some who survived that horrible night were sent to the asylum.

In all her years, she had never seen anything like this. In all her years she had never seen someone die of fear, let alone children. But the person she saw in the video, the one who the police said were supposedly responsible, didn’t add up to Ashley, but it was June who she saw in that video. The fair skin, the red hair…. Though she had never seen her in that black outfit, it was no doubt in her mind of who it was… or at least who it was supposed to appear to be.

But she knew June (or she was sure she did) enough to know she would never risk their friendship to do something like this. She knew June was an assassin, didn't just kill people just to kill, but rather for money. Either way, June didn't have the abilities that would have been needed to kill the individuals in that way. The tales though, of June’s attempt to get back the soul of Kellan, did arise in the back of her mind. A man who stole souls, who was not human but a monster, a creature so foul that shook June to her core. She didn’t say he could shape shift… but what if a monster like that could? A man who devoured souls. She copied the video on a USB port, she needed to show June this.

@arquitenens:

Chance's head gradually tilts to the side as the woman laid out the plan, as it relates to her. 'The path of least resistance' Chance internalized, realizing the lack of arrows probably attributed to the woman's decision. 'Or' Chance slowly brought her hands down before sheepishly nodding in agreement. 'Yes, it's that most definitely that'. "I can take out the fans no problem." She continued a bit more hushed than before feeling increasingly stupid about the hands in the air thing.

"See you on the inside" She called out trotting off toward the back end of the building toward the fire escape. 'How could you forget the most important part of your costume' she thought to herself while standing below the fire escape that appeared unreasonably high.

'How the hell am I supposed to get that' She thought to gaze up at the drop down ladder that exceeded her vertical jump. It was times like this when she realized she really was the black sheep of the family, literally, all of them had powers in some capacity, but she was the one Liafador that didn't. Taking a moment to scan the area, she spotted a large industrial dumpster behind her. 'That'll do it'. She thought jogging behind it. She tried to push but the dumpster didn't budge--at all.

Turning around with her back pressed against the side of the dumpster, she push hard with her feet trying to get the dumpster to move but again it didn't work. 'Ok, maybe there's a slight problem' she thought recanting her statement from earlier.

She then thought about the light armor she was wearing underneath her get-up, the armor she got from Juno, It had shock absorbent capabilities. Taking a few steps back Chance threw herself against the side of the dumpster, it hurt; but she could feel the energy starting to move through her armor.

Now forcefully pushing against the trash can, the kinetic energy she built up to push through her hands before forcefully knocking the dumpster in the direction she needed albeit too far. 'Fork!' Someone approaching behind her drew her attention, Chance pulled back her bowstring, but realizing it was futile.

The newcomer was a homeless man, his peppered beard suggests he was a lot older, given the vicinity of his personal effects also suggest he lived in this alleyway. He moved over to the trash can unlocking the wheel locks and placed it directly under the fire escape Chance was desperately trying to climb up.

"Uh...geeze thanks..." She praised, once again feeling stupid. Climbing atop the dumpster, she grabbed the bottom rung of the ladder before glancing back at the man. "Hope Falls. It's a shelter. They'll give you a hot meal and a place to take a shower". She informed before beginning her ascent to the top. She routinely volunteered at the shelter, it was a great reprieve from Bethany's usual tirade of everything Valor.

She scaled the escape to the top and found the control panel for the fan unit. It was busted but she'd learned enough about currents from her shock arrows to know how to get it started again. Reconnecting a couple of wires, the fledgling hero flinch as the fans came whirring to life forcing the toxic gas from the building up into the atmosphere. "Sh!T" she screamed realizing it was coming her way. She waited for a moment until her immediate area had been cleared of the irritant before lunging through the top window into the warehouse. Her powerful kinetic energy being pushed over anyone in her landing spot.

@ashley_knightfall:

To walk amongst the living, amongst mankind, felt strange. And undeserving. He gazed up at the Sun for the first time in what felt like an eternity since his time in the Black Hallows, and questions echoed in his mind. Whether or not the Sun was little more than a planet bathed in celestial flame. Whether he should be doing something he had to will himself to. And whether this would bring him the peace he so desperately sought. He felt maddened, twisted by the dark and foul things the Black Hallows had tortured him with. And yet, oddly enough, the Horned Saint seemed calm. For there was no doubting his self-belief, his intuition. It had led him to victory against the Secret Masters of the Strigidae death cult, and it would lead him to peace.

So he moved, a scarlet shadow drifting in and out the crowds of a vibrant city. No eye could see him, and no ear could hear him. He glimpsed at the brittle necks of criminals lurking in the crowd, and surrendered to a smirk. Spotting another killer had become so easy. It was an instinct, to be able to recognize the otherness in place of what should be humanity in their eyes. How quickly his work in Gothic City had come undone, if even Valor City dared defy him and the Purge. Perhaps there was no slaying the great dragon of evil. Perhaps Richard had been right all this time. But it didn't matter, his crusade would never end, for it had barely even started. So he strode through the shadows, weaving in and out the darkness till he'd left the lively streets for the cold hallways of a hospital building. For a moment, his heart rose like a tide, and clamored guilt.

The Horned Saint knew of his coming deed. He would hurt Ashley one final time, and it pained him.

So he walked, unseen by the nurses and all manner of staff. It had been weeks since the Mad Strix smeared Valor City's Children Hospital with dread. Ezra had told him everything, his intentions to claim Ashley's soul, and all the horrible things he'd do to it's purity. To undo the monster's plan, the Horned Saint had sacrificed everything. So as he pushed open the door to Ashley's office and met those familiar eyes he'd never again see beyond this day, his face softened. "Good to see you're still alive considering the monster that held my soul captive was intent on yours", he smiled, yet never stepping close. "He... it... won't be coming for you anymore. I... persuaded him - it", he corrected himself, "To reconsider things. So your soul is safe. And I've killed the Secret Masters, so they won't be coming for you anymore".

Yet as good things flowed from his voice, a glint of anguish invaded his eyes, and something in his chest dropped. His smile faded. "But despite what I said when we last spoke, this is the end for us, truly. It won't work between us. This is the last time you'll ever see me if I have anything to do with it. So don't try and find me, because you won't. You've taught me a lot of things, Ashley. And I loved you for it. And I'll never forget those things, or you. But", he breathed out, "This is goodbye. If you have anything to say, say it now".

@lebreau_liafador: [Apologies for the wait. I struggle more than I care to admit with comfort in fighting-NPC bits. But thank you for your patience.]

Abigail's gaze lingered awhile as the spirited heroine made her way, a thoughtful smirk touching the edges of her lips. That was a good sign. It would've been nice, she thought, to stay and watch with what ingenuity her new ally would tackle the issue, especially without her gear, but the circumstances were far less than ideal. There was no time to waste. The more she waited, the more not only the heroes but the officers at the building's front were put in danger.

Nocking a grappling arrow on the bowstring, Arquitenens latched onto the side of the building and ascended in no time at all.

Glancing downward, she took in the rough positioning of the perpetrators through the roof, the view from her NOOCS penetrating layer by layer through the building and granting a visual of several skeletal representations of the residents. That was good enough. Tapping once into her mutant power, reality warped and Abigail was standing inside the building, upside down, feet attached to the ceiling. Once more and every light in the room shattered, to a chorus of startled and angry shouts. But she had already roughly memorized their positions. She drew another arrow.

Diarmuid's descendant was the envy of the gods. Even with one functioning eye her shot was impeccable, able to draw and outfire a sharpshooter with her bow. But there and then her immediate intent was to induce as much chaos as possible, disorienting and disabling, and most importantly depriving the enemy of the mental peace they'd need to function optimally and adapt on the fly. The "hornet's nest" flew trough the air and exploded, unleashing a furious swarm of rubber pellets through the confined area. They would bruise and break the skin, as well as some bones, to a hellish cacophony of screams muffled but audible from outside the building. But all of the men would live.

Abigail's heart pounded and her footing faltered as more hex spheres actualised, manifesting several localised pockets of reality wherein time itself flowed in reverse. Wire mended; shattered glass levitated and repaired itself. Light was restored as it would be needed for both Quiver and herself to finish clearing the hideout. But Abby'd stretched herself thin. As much as she'd practised her power since preparing to take revenge on the Horned God that haunted her lineage, keeping her feet attached and turning back time, even in so limited a manner, was well beyond her ability to perform without consequence.

"Aggh!" She hit the floor with a shriek, certain she'd heard something pop in her left shoulder and bruised a rib as she bounced off of the scaffolding on the way down.

Okay Abby. Not used to...Not there yet. Still she counted her blessings that she'd landed in some partial cover behind a stack of crates—only to heave a weary sigh as she realised her bow had fallen several metres away, lying in plain sight.

"Who'sat over there!?" someone shouted. Shit. Hardy bastard already recovered. Possibly meta?

Shit, her thoughts repeated. No way to fight back without exposing herself. But she had to. Any risk incurred retrieving the bow was better than waiting helplessly for the crew to pin her down. Groggy as she was, sitting in place was the surest path to an underwhelming end for a veteran of countless conflicts with enemies more dangerous than these.

Abigail groaned as she pushed herself up and ran on shaky legs to her bow, already reaching for her quiver. A muzzle flashed and bullets whizzed by the hero. She dove for the weapon, rolled through, and already lined her shot. A fraction of a second was all she needed. On impact the hollow-point arrow flattened against his body bounced harmlessly from his shoulder. He didn't even flinch but instead stopped, threw his head back to laugh as he reloaded, and resumed firing. Shit. Definitely meta. The brief window left by his taunting and reloading was, however, enough for the archer to follow through to the next stack that'd serve as her cover for a while.

"Oi, I recognise you," came a disembodied voice to her left accompanying a sharp pain in her stomach. Abigail froze and her body ran cold. She looked down to where a deep crimson stain spread over her white shirt, then back up to where the voice had come from. Damn, that armour would've been handy now. When he became visible his face was right in front of hers. "Ain't seen you on the telly in a while, thought maybe you was dead. Ohhhohoho, we're gonna be legends for this."

He'd tell the story many times over. I got the jump on her, and stabbed Arquitenens. He'd tell it in the hospital. He'd tell it to his cell mates and anyone who'd listen at The New Rock. Some would even admire him for it, for a while. But it'd be a Pyrrhic victory at best, and one he'd be enjoying from confinement for the foreseeable future. So focused on her predicament, Abigail hardly recognised the sound of shattering glass but in the next instant the Scouser who'd stabbed her lay crumpled in a heap. Several moments passed before she realised what—or who—had just crashed through the ceiling and saved her life (or at least put the Reaper off for a short while). Her first thought then was to reach up and pull the scarlet archer into cover.

Feigning a confident levity for the sake of morale, she forced a smile. "Well this is so embarrassing I could just die, but I'm glad I didn't send you home. Thanks. We've got at least one meta. Heightened durability, unknown degree." She glanced over her shoulder, mind on the advancing foe. Not much time. Opening her palm, she showed several canisters which activated at once, forming the telescopic arrows of her arsenal. Holding them up one by one, hardening her voice to stress the importance of her words before giving each to Quiver, "This is a standard flashbang. This imparts the kinetic force of several thousand PSI into anything it hits, should be enough to knock him off his feet at least," and finally, "This creates what is essentially a localised sonic boom. I'll take point, run out that way and draw his attention. You wait til he's on me and go the other way. If you can't hurt him with any of these you can at least disorient him and flush out anyone else who might be hiding. Ready? Great." With that Abigail broke from cover and took off running, again reaching for her quiver.

No sooner than the fledgling hero landed, she was being yoked to the ground by her arrow toting ally. 'Send me home? Meta? Heightened Durability what is she going on about' Chance thought before watching the Golden Goddess turn toward their advancing adversary.

Her brows snapped together as her green eyes befell the items being presented 'Standard flashbang mhm mhm' She recited in her mind trying to force herself to pay attention to the lecture and not the man quickly advancing on them. 'Localised Sonic Boom..hey that's pretty oh snap!' She thought as her fellow Archer broke out to retrieve her misplaced quiver.

'One-one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand' she counted mentally patiently waiting the right moment to enact the plan. 'Four One-Thousand, crap' She'd waited too long one of the other assailants snuck up on her just enough to flush her out of cover. In a manner, one would only see on a Sunday morning football game Chance chuck the first of her gifts in a hail mary manner only for it to amazingly make contact with the meta converging on her ally. 'Sweet!' She celebrated internally watching as the flashbang lift the meta up and sent him sailing into a nearby scaffold.

The celebration was cut short, the man that snuck up on her finally caught up, but made the wrong decision of grabbing the extremely cautious Chance. Pushing the hand off her shoulder, The Liafador Matriarch sent a knee streaking into his abdomen before taking him down with a brutal knee to his head.

'Ok, Ok Sonic Boom' She thought to prepare the next item before she realized the structural decay on the far side wall. "Hey so...I think I have an idea" She said preparing for another throw. VCPD were first responders, but the L.A.W typically handled cases where metas were involved. She could hear the specialized sirens from the outside and knew all of them were working on borrowed time--they didn't particularly like vigilantes either. "I'm going to use this to take out that far side wall. They'll be pinned in by us and L.A.W, but afterwards, we better get the hell outta dodge."

Tossing the Sonic Boom Chance ducked behind a beam felt the boom pretty much collapse both the wall and the ceiling above them which was good. The only bad thing was they were still in the building.

@arquitenens

Might've did too much or possibly too little with that post. I'll edit if need be!

@lebreau_liafador: Oh no. Everything worked perfectly.

Breaking at once from cover, Abigail tramped loudly in the hopes of drawing attention toward herself and away from her ally. For the expressly intended target, at least, it worked—a separate problem all its own. The assailant did something vaguely akin to aiming and sprayed, bullets narrowly whizzing past her. The archer dove in and out of cover, slightly off-balance and in constant pain.

There came a knock to her right, along with some unintelligible vocalisation. Both heads snapped to see Quiver not firing, but throwing one of the arrows she'd been given. Been there before, thought the veteran, her ally's pursuer obscured from her view. But while her foe was distracted by the changing circumstance Abigail maintained the disciplined focus almost singularly responsible for her survival thus far. The arrow struck just as he shifted his aim and the human tank was sent hurtling several metres through the air, scaffold crashing down around him.

She couldn't have planned it any better if she tried. Her shoulder groaned and popped in protest while the laceration in her stomach threatened to shred itself wider. Gritting her teeth through the agony, Abigail drew and fired. A perfect shot. The arrow disappeared within the pile and within seconds both the stricken mutant and the scaffold were engulfed in a gel-like substance holding both gently yet firmly in place. Never stopping to admire her work, she'd already sprinted back to reconvene with Quiver. But the improvised tactics of the sharp-witted rookie left little time for discussion.

"Fair. If anyone tries to escape we can head them off outside. Follow me and stay close," she said, hoping for the passive probability field around her body to protect them both from falling debris, but ready to fire off a hex sphere if required. For good measure she made a grab for Quiver's hand as she began the mad dash for the nearest wall, extending another arrow and tossing it. The concrete wall itself morphed and peeled away, granting the girls their passage and, once they'd both passed through, using the transmogrification feature Abigail sealed the wall shut once more before using the NOOCS interface to render the arrow inert.

Then she fell forward, weakly extending both arms in an attempt to stifle the impact of her collapse.

@arquitenens:

Following her rash plan, again Chance was yoked from the scene just as fast as she threw the arrow. As the two of them collapsed on the outside, the Crimson Clad Archer shook her head in disbelief. 'Damn, she probably wanted me to actually shoot those. She probably thinks I'm stupid'

Pushing off the ground, she could faintly make out the sound of L.A.W moving in to apprehend the gunmen. The weird thing about the entire situation was that Chance didn't even figure out why they were being chased in the first place.

"Th-That was pretty cool" She huffed before realizing that was a matter of perspective. Throughout the entire ordeal, Chance hadn't been hit at all. Her ally, on the other hand, got the worse of the entire encounter.

"Oh, geez" Chance called out rushing to her partner's side, she didn't want to just hoist her off the ground; she wasn't exactly sure what was injured.

As she slowly inched around her injured ally, Chance's green eyes made contact with the gruesome bloody wound--and that was all she needed to see.

'Urrrrrrrgh' The young hero hunched over away from Abby and began hurling up chunks of chicken noodle soup. "Oh hell..." she grunted breathing heavily whilst trying to swipe the excess saliva from her lips. 'Oh, I think I can see the white meat. Don't faint'

Doing the best she could to avoid looking at the wound, Chance tried to help the Archer to her feet. She couldn't help but feel like she was to blame, had she brought the quiver she would've been able to at least help in a more physical way.

Chance and Bethany's apartment

"WHY WOULD YOU BRING HER BACK HERE!" Bethany hiss watching as Chance laid the unconscious hero on their couch. "Where would you rather I take her Bethany? Oh hi, yes I found this archer in an alleyway, oh by the way we were involved in that incident down at the warehouse?"

She responded sardonically before motioning towards Abby's chest would. "There's the wound patch it up" Bethany was Chance's unofficial nurse, the young hero couldn't afford healthcare, and Bethany was kind of a nurse--a veterinarian.

"I'm not patching that up, what if she wakes up while I'm doing it?" Her eyes kind of rolled at the thought, but it was a valid question. The woman could freak out and attack Bethany.

"Look, I'll be right here. But we just can't have her bleeding out....she lost enough of that on the way over here" She explained, thinking about the ridiculous amount of blood she probably had on her uniform.

omg she's a damn cinnamon roll

@lebreau_liafador:

The dead weight heroine slept like a brick the entire way back to Chance's apartment, while in a feverish dream the spirit of Diarmuid lambasted her for carelessness. Overexerting her powers like that, what the feck was she thinking? The whole thing was buggered the instant she decided to flex and test her power on time itself. And for what reason? It wasn't her worst plan on most grounds--not great, but not the worst either--but that part in particular marked one of the most reckless decisions she'd made in a long time, primarily for the sake of a rook who hadn't even remembered one of the two fundamental tools in her arsenal. It was a one-sided argument. He was right, even if excessively harsh. Abby stood pretty much no chance defending herself against the entity that'd forcibly taken up residence in her mind and knew her thoughts.

Diarmuid had a habit of inserting himself abruptly into any situation he saw fit, and exerted an overpowering influence virtually any time he made his appearance known. (Known to Abby, at least. She was the only one who could perceive him, even among the supernaturally inclined.) But then, as he began to simmer down, some other harsh voice eased in on her mind through his fading presence. She was rising to consciousness.

Two of them. One of the voices, she recognised as the hero from earlier. The rest of the situation was easily inferred. Ugh, feck, holy shit, Abby thought as she realised she still had an open wound and they were nowhere near an agreement on the actual preservation of her life. Shit.I'm gonna die. Feck. I'm gonna...I gotta...

With a loud grunt she sought to cut in on the argument herself. Pushing herself up onto her elbows before a jolt surged through her nerves like a bolt of lightning, forcing her back into a recumbent position, applying pressure to the wound as well as she could manage. "Hnn...ngh, w-well if you're...s-so staunchly opposed, I don't s-suppose I could borrow...suture kit, if you have one?" While nowhere near the level of a medical professional, she'd picked up a few tricks befitting a combat medic with limited supplies in the war zone that was once Venezuela. It wouldn't be the first time. And even if she couldn't finish the job herself, the gesture would serve as both consent and a promise not to go ballistic the instant they began prodding her with any sharp objects.

@arquitenens:

As The Golden Archer propped herself up, the slight movement was enough to scare both Chance and Bethany, but it didn't take long for the vet to get the hint. "Go get my kit from my work bag" Chance immediately dashed into Bethany's room retrieving the kit and a bunch of pain killers that she wasn't quite sure would actually work.

"What's the fruit cup for?" Bethany asked beginning her work to mend Abby's wound. "It's for her, what everyone likes fruit cups," She said setting the cold cup down on the table.

Taking a step back to peer over Bethany's shoulder, she could only take a couple of minutes of spectating before she could feel her stomach getting uneasy again. "Still can't believe you brought her to our apartment. What happens if you were followed" Bethany grunted still in the middle of her impromptu stitching.

"I didn't know where else to go. We're here now Beth get over it. Besides if anyone shows up I'll deal with it" Chance reassured opening the lid on her own fruit cup. "So, I've been in Valor for a couple of months now. But I've never seen you here before, what brought you here in the first place?" She asked popping a squat on the stool at the island.

"Hopefully you stick around for a bit, Hawkeye over there could use some tip. Actually, she might need a full-blown cheat sheet" Bethany chimed in again cutting the ends off her stitches before considering it mission complete.

"Actually that's not a bad idea." Chance agreed dropping from the stool. "This would be a lot easier if I knew what to do. Can you help me? I mean of course when you're better"

Gliding through the air, the Silver Spider swung from whichever building was found by his telescopic tentacles.

He soared, flipped and twirled from angles thought impossible by those without the grace of superhuman acrobatics. James' eyes pierced through emerald lenses on his mask, and his gaze swept the streets of Valor below. It was a beautiful city. Every man was a ruby, and every woman a sapphire. Skyscrapers reached up to the heavens, and gleamed like pillars of gold and silver. Yet, not too long ago, Valor was a city by another name, a forgotten one. And from the ashes of metahuman devastation, Valor City rose like an eagle with a large target glimmering on it's back.

It had been attacked before. Now that it's name sat at the top of the social strata, there lay nay a doubt in James' mind. It would be attacked again, like Gothic City before it, and New York before both. It was what drew the Alpha-Omega agent to these streets. Defeating metahuman threats to civilization was his dominion, and as his telescopic tentacles lifted him from a rooftop edge, the Silver Spider crossed his arms over his chest as his gaze loomed over the streets below. "A pity", James shrugged, "Peace like this hardly lasts. Sooner or later the latest in a dynasty of madmen will come ready to burn down the blood city".

"Well", he paused, his posture nonchalant yet self-certain, "I suppose that's why I'm here in the colonies, so that such a thing doesn't happen".

"Time to build a base then".

@lebreau_liafador:

Abby felt a spark of annoyance at the discussion taking place before her. In particular, the friend of her recent companion, her apparent displeasure at the openness and assistance for which Abby herself was extremely grateful. I'm right bloody here, she thought, rolling her eye. What was she supposed to do, leave me to die? She opened her mouth to speak up, but thought better as the doctor weaved the needle through her abdomen. Instead, rolling up her bloody shirt, she shoved it into her mouth and bit down to help cope with the pain.

With the pause came a bit of clarity and Abby had to admit she couldn't entirely blame Bethany. There wasn't any need to get snappy already. She took some significant comfort also in the fact that the Scarlet Archer stood her ground in spite of her peer. Another positive quality in the profile Abigail'd been constructing in her mind since they'd met.

"Thanks so much," offered the Aensland heiress with a winsome smile when they'd finished, directing her attention mainly toward Bethany as she added, "I can offer compensation for your troubles. I of all people understand how difficult trust can be, especially in our line of work. That said," returning her attention to Chance, "I am exceptionally grateful that you were willing to open yourself up to me."

Then finished with expressions of gratitude, she opened herself to the inquiries posed to her. "I initially came to Valor to buy land. I've been the head of Ambrose Foods for quite a while now, and with Valor's ongoing struggles both since last year and with the recent influx from Gothic, a few shelters in the city sounded like a good idea. I was hoping that would be the extent of 'heroic' actions I'd be taking this time around." Still she omitted, for the moment, her intentions with the Fianna. They were off to a good start, but alone in their home field under God knows what circumstances, that was a big step to take when she still didn't know who exactly she was dealing with.

It'd have been dishonest of Abigail to suggest she hadn't been factoring her checklist of traits into a mental profile that included "suitability for training," but as always her fear of associations loomed not far behind. Despite the both conscious and unconscious utility of her power influencing probabilities, misfortune had a habit of not only following Abigail, but striking hardest at those unlucky enough to get close to her. Lifelong examples of "evidence" had built within her a superstitious fear of herself. And until the Mad Strix was dealt with, cause for fear was more than superstitious—it was certain.

Still, there was another voice in the back of her mind urging her on. She would later tell herself it was concern for the budding heroine (which itself wasn't untrue, but wasn't the whole truth either). Quiver had heart but had made a few rudimentary mistakes that could've easily gotten herself killed or worse. Ironic, I know, she hushed the spirit sharing her mind, glancing once more at the sutured wound in her body. As though feeling neglected, her shoulder and bruised rib throbbed and Abby tried hard not to wince as she moved to sit all the way up.

"A friend of mine used to say, 'Calculated risks are best taken by those who are good at math.' Clearly, I've still got a lot to learn about basic arithmetic." A self-deprecating smirk. "But I've gotten a good deal better." Crossing her arms gingerly, she scanned Chance from head to toe and back up again. "You have the intangibles. You're a fairly quick thinker under pressure, adaptable, and you've got the genuine spark of a real hero.I think there's nothing more important. But you're unrefined, raw, more than a little reckless. It might not get you killed, but it could. And even if it doesn't, maybe I could help out so you have an easier time of it than I did. Don't exactly fancy myself the 'mentor' type but I could offer...words of advice? Training? What–what exactly are you looking for?"

@arquitenens:

Her green eyes bounced over to Bethany, almost daring her to take the money. "No-Um, it's fine, consider this on the house" Bethany replied repelling Chance's glare with her own--neither of them trying to hide their opposing views. Bethany would eventually move toward her room, allowing the two some privacy.

Her mind immediately defaulted to the homeless man from earlier at the mention of shelters. Valor desperately needed them. With the influx of Gothic refugee's a lot of the shelters positioned around the city were at max capacity, not to mention there were plenty of citizens before the name change that was forgotten in the remodeling.

Valor was changing, for the worse. The destruction of Grimm did nothing to deter the former lawmakers from repeating disastrous mistakes, but the young heroine couldn't help like the rising political complications coupled with the opposing ideologies between Refugee and Organic Citizen weren't being intentionally steered down an explosive path. Noticing the lingering pain on Abby as she tried to sit up Chance quickly shuffled to the icebox, removing two Ice packs and bottled water.

"Here's a couple of Ice Packs for the shoulder. I got some Tylenol if you want. This is yours too." She said placing the fruit cup in front of her.

"Not really sure what I'm looking for. I suppose I need both?" She admitted whilst parking herself on the arm of the couch. (Something Bethany hated).

"Most situations I don't know when I'm in over my head until I'm in over my head. Most of my tech is kind of basic, I think the most advanced thing I have is my quiver and light armor. I don't know how to assess a situation, nor do I know when to take a prudent risk. I think my family, just made it look easy cause most of them were born with powers, but doing it from the ground up sucks. How'd you get your start?"

Yeah, I shouldn't have read this yet. That was a mistake! >_<

Be it more from pride or ever-present self-loathing manifested as the fear of being a burden, Abigail appreaed to visibily strain against herself before accepting the charity offered. But acept she did, with a polite smile, forced, that quickly faded with her consideration of Chance's reply. Brow furrowed, a pensive expression took hold of her as she mentally reconstructed her history. Abby was only twenty-five years old but she felt much older. She wore the physical scars of a combat veteran twice her age, so singularly dedicated to the pursuit of heroism, and mental scars far worse.

Still, "Ha!" She threw her head back, trying to appear more amused than she was. "If anyone wrote a book based on my experience, it would be called Shite for Brains: What NOT to do. But I guess there's a utility in that too. Although I have to admit I'm having a hard time taking myself seriously in that regard, considering how the day's unfolded and which one of us is injured."

She paused once more thoughtfully, and shen she resumed her voice had sunken.

"I guess, in a sense...I was always destined for this. Daddy made sure of that. He was in law, and mum was a genetic scientist. Both focused a lot on the X-gene. There were always issues but I was sheltered from it all until I was ten. It was my birthday and we were out, and some angry fanatic..."She trailed off. Even if she was ready to face that, it was too much too soon with a stranger.

"Fast forward eight years, at university my roommate and I saw a boy killed by his own friends because they'd learned he was a mutant. I dropped out almost immediately—not because I'm a mutant"—covering her bases—"I just couldn't be around that. Daddy dedicated his life to bridhing the gap between Homo sapiens and human mutants. I started out just aiming for that, but I couldn't not do more.

"Aside from that," she shrugged, "I've always been good with a bow," and as she said that her features shone with a genuine pride rarely shown upon them. "Shooting is the first memory I have of my childhood."

Then suddenly more flippant, "Anyway, this is still a lesson on why you don't do what I do. I could shoot but I had no combat experience, no hand-to-hand training at all, and not even the good sense to wear a mask – you're already a leg up on me there. I just thought, 'I wanna help people,' so I flew from London to New York basically on a super-powered whim. Honestly, I've suffered for it. More than most people would over several lifetimes. So I guess the first piece of advice I'd have is...decide how much you want this, and be sure. But you'll wanna decide before you make real enemies. Which means decide quickly because you'll make enemies quickly...Hopefully not starting in the deep end with the Charlemagnes and Ivanas and their like.

"And the truth is nobody knows, not with any real certainty. So if you figure that one out, be sure to share it with the rest of us. I've done this thousands of times, against far worse than what we faced. Should be a cakewalk, right?" Spreading her arms wide and motioning as to once more draw attention toward her injuries to emphasize her point. "Most times you're in over your head, you don't know til you're already in. The only alternative I've ever known is 'I'm in over my head, but let's do this.' I've been doing it that way since I was eighteen, so I really mean it when I say every day I'm alive is a gift from God. Point being, unless you're 'Thee Champion' or someone like that thwarting a home robbery, you really don't know."

Angling herself gingerly toward Chance, she sought her eyes deliberately with a gaze both piercing and compassionate, almost pleading the way out. "But it's not right for me to talk to you like this without saying...if you just want to help people, there are other ways to do that. I can use connections, find you opportunities, even with Ambrose if you'd like. Don't feel pressure, just because your family is one thing, that you have to be the same. Have you...talked to them about...this?" Abby wondered silently who they might be; it sounded like they might've been well-known, but in hesitation she assumed if her companion wished to make that information available she would've shared her real name or who they were already.

@arquitenens: I should have a post up tomorrow.

@lebreau_liafador: Can't wait!

@arquitenens:

Chance's mind replayed her partner's story with vivid imagery, she could see pretty much every detail, that is, of course until there was information left out; or purposely fast-forwarded for the sake of confidentiality (which she understood). It was once the story turned into a choice that anxiety subtly begins to build in Chance's bosom. Her worry came from the safety of the people around her, as opposed to herself. Though she and Bethany got into a brief spat about it, her roommate was right, If she was followed, then what?

Her partners mention of "Thee Champion" pulled her from wayward thoughts and deposited her back in the now. "We're not close. The ones I used to talk to aren't around anymore". Chance pushed herself from the couch, to pace around; she couldn't think and be stationary.

"Honestly, I might be the weakest one in terms of physical strength and courage. But I was never raised to be a hero. Heh, my mother made sure I went to college--and I did. But I found I had a sister, y' know poppa was a rolling stone; and at that point, I hadn't met him. I went to meet her and literally from that point on my life changed.

Chance took a small sip of her water before picking up her bow. "I hit a bit of a dark patch a couple of months ago. So bad that I thought about ending it. Hawkshade saved me, and I made a vow not to allow anyone to make me feel that way again. When I finally met my father he was on the run, claimed my sister was looking to kill him or whatever. I'm not sure if she did, but he spent months training me in hand to hand combat and how to use this." She said slapping her hand on a red decorative case containing her first bow.

"I want to help people. I can tell you for sure that's what I want to do. But I want to do it as both Quiver...and Chance" She said finally extending her hand to formally introduce herself.

@lebreau_liafador:

Abby listened, brow furrowed, concerned deepening in her features as Chance spoke. Instinct raised her hand, but in fear of reaching out too soon she clasped her fingers around her wrist instead. The trouble with family, alienation, not wanting to be alive...She'd been to all those places herself and still hadn't entirely gotten over much of it. That made it hard not to reach out, but Chance was surprisingly mature for her age. But maybe, thought Abigail, considering what she'd seen in the field, it was silly that she was even surprised at all.

"Abigail," she returned the gesture, "although I guess if you're seeing me like this and still feel like I might have something to teach, you might've already known who I am."In which case I must be doing a great job living up to the reputation, she thought sarcastically.

"Do not despise the day of small beginnings. We all start somewhere. And after what you've shown me today, I'll do everything I can to make sure you get where you wanna go. 'Love of glory can only create a great hero; contempt of glory creates a great person.' Charles Talleyrand, paraphrased.

"What you did earlier, taking care of the gas before the criminals...It was an important, but far less glamorous - even thankless - job. Lots of heroes I've seen and worked alongside would've completely passed on that just to get to the smashing. Lots of them, even more experienced than both of us put together, have fallen into traps that way. You not only accepted the task without complaint, but with enthusiasm. It shows a good heart, maybe even wisdom," she said, smirking. Though she intended to keep quiet for a while, it was the exact moment she'd made up her mind about encouraging Chance to further heroics beyond the initial engagement. "Ego is one of the quickest ways to get yourself and others killed. Take careful stock of yourself before you enter everysituation because that's a lesson you never want to have to learn personally. But Chance..."

Motioning to the spot next to her on the sofa, gentle earnestness once again settling in her person, "you are not lacking in courage. How could you be? To get out there like that with no powers, and tonight without even a bow. For what it's worth, I'm glad you're alive and we could meet. If there's ever anything you need to talk to about, even beyond 'Heroism 101,' consider me on call around the clock. Don't let me leave here without giving you my contact information."

I'll have a post up today

@lebreau_liafador: Feeling better?

@rosso: Not really, but I don’t wanna get too far behind

@catalina_liafador: Ah, well you know there's never any rush on my behalf. I know how life gets. [Plus I may not be in much anyway today/morrow, since my grandfather's coming into town and I only get to see him maybe once a year at most.]

✭✭ The Blue Eagle ✭✭

From the infernal days of the Brahma Bull to the present cruelty of Ada Guillaume, city after city had their streets smeared with the blood of the innocent, and their skies blackened by smoke. American resolve had been tested and threatened by enemies who promised to leave nothing of it to fight for. And yet, the cities most devastated stood in defiance. Gothic resisted, and Grimm became Valor. Not by the hand of government intervention, but the will of heroes - human and otherwise. And in the sky above, one such hero soared in the Blue Eagle.

He was a demigod forged from science and miracle.

Above the clouds where the Sun shone brightest, things seemed weightless, as though nothing truly mattered. Achilles could only wonder, what then did his father, Thee Champion, feel when racing through the cosmos? After all, what mattered to a god who defied the speed of light and collapsed stars with his bare hands? Little, Achilles imagined, staring out his ship's window for his gaze to sweep the streets below. Or perhaps, too much for most to comprehend. Perhaps that was why his father answered the deaths and resurrections of Gothic and Valor with indifference.

Cities, no matter how large, must be insignificant to one who could so easily snuff out the Sun, upon which all life on Earth was so dependent. Like anthills to a king. But to the American God, cities - people - were worth his heart and soul. "Between the Imperium invasion and Valor doing it's best Gothic City impression, we've got our hands full", Achilles sighed, soon answered by the airy cadence of the Blue Eagle's resident V.I. (Virtual Intelligence), ||-That is correct. But what of the condemnation from prominent public figures regarding your stance on their concerns over metahuman surveillance?-||.

"I don't even know who they are, V.I.", he shrugged, his amusement glinting, "But all things considered, I'll wipe my tears with the future their children'll have thanks to me. Anyway, that's a non-issue. Pinpoint a prime location in this city for a new HQ. This place's recently become a big target and was almost destroyed. But under my watch, it won't ever happen again".

@8th_wonder: You're making a mistake

@catalina_liafador: I'm correcting Ada's mistake.

You're interfering with forces beyond your comprehension.

@catalina_liafador:

Oop

The Ugly Truth

(If someone wants to jump in at any point they can. I'll write by myself until then)

I...don't know where it all went wrong. I know I made some bad decisions, but they were made with the right intentions. So, why doesn't anything make sense? Am I dreaming?

"Valor City. Divided. How the hell did this happen?" It's funny, it's funny how things change. Brian Newcastle sitting alone without security or his telepathic entourage was a sight to see. For once he wasn't dressed in a suit or that tattered police uniform. Instead he sat at his booth in a black leather jacket, white tee and a Valor City Vulcan's baseball cap. He was slouched over the table, both elbows pressed against the tablecloth as he read through articles on his Dominus International tablet.

"Baby boy, y'know exactly how this happened." Marissa stepped around from the pastry shop counter with a plate of freshly baked chocolate cupcakes. They were Brian's favorite nighttime snack whenever he was stressed. He'd sit at the same booth every Friday night like clockwork ever since he moved into the neighborhood. It didn't matter what was happening in the world. Marissa's Doughnut and Pastry Shop was his safe haven from everything and everyone.

"You went and told the whole goddamn world that we could be better if we worked harder, thought smarter and whatever crock of sh*t you were trying to sell." Marissa placed the plate of cupcakes at the side of Brian's right arm. She looked at his dumbfounded expression and could see he believed everything his company's board spouted. It was sad to see such a young man turn from such a rebellious spirit into someone so disconnected from reality.

"You don't know what you're talking about. This entire freaking city doesn't know what the hell I've done for them. What I've tried to do for them." Brian dropped his tablet on the table before shoving the plate of pastries on the floor, shattering at the feet of Marissa. She stumbled backwards in response to his behavior. She was taken aback by the aggravation in Brian's voice, but she'd seen this before. It was the same frustration that coursed through his veins when his mother abandoned him on the street all those years ago.

"Y'know they kicked me out?? My own company kicked me out. Now Samantha, Sabrina and even Alana won't speak to me." There he was. That same lonely boy she'd watch eat his feelings whenever he could scrap some cents together.

"I'm so sorry, Brian. I know this kind of sh*t hurts, but don't you dare take that anger out on me. Do you hear me?" Marissa stepped forward once again and slapped Brian upside the head.

"You know goddamn well how this city works. How it's always worked. It's either use or be used. You're not an idiot, Brian. Maybe you're an asshole, but I blame your step daddy for that." Marissa wasn't too fond of the way things worked around these parts, but she knew how things got done. She'd seen it firsthand with Brian's rise to power and subsequent fall.

"Now you know I close this shop every Friday night early, because you enjoy your alone time. You're family, Brian. You've always been good to me. It's the least I can do, but I won't accept this kind of disrespect." Brian got up from his seat and knelt down to pick up the shattered pieces of glass. As he got back to his feet, the Newcastle legacy shied away from looking Marissa in the eyes. His pride kept him from apologizing. He was far too stubborn to admit when he was wrong, but he did care about her opinion. She was the only honest soul he'd come to know in the neighborhood.

"You came back to the city to make a change. If you truly meant that, I don't care what you have to do or how you gotta do it. Just don't let no company or no person get in the way of your vision with their own. You understand me?" Brian nodded in agreement with a slight smile on his face. Her honesty was the kind of value he wanted his city to represent. A home that pushed it's people to be their truest selves.

"I get it, Marissa. I do. I mean that. I'll be better." Brian turned around for just a moment. He put the broken pieces of the plate on the table and returned his sight onto Marissa. This time, however, she stood frozen in fear as a red dot focused on her forehead. He wasn't sure what was happening, but he needed to act and he needed to act fast.

"BLAM!"

You wrote a whole post without mentioning me once!!!

@catalina_liafador:

but then I said "why give her free promotion?"

@americanvalor_:

@catalina_liafador:

@americanvalor_:

Valor was carved into specific zones, as promised by the Order the West belong to its Android population, under the rule of The Matriarch Zedora.

The Valor City Elite was able to escape into the East barricading themselves behind the newly christened Martial L.A.W. Backed by the Order, L.A.W would soon piece Valor City back together as a police state with the Order pulling the strings. After the eradication of the middle-class Valor's poorer classes were forced into overrun slums in the North and South. The Order's intel suggests several resistance groups were forming to launch strategic attacks against Martial L.A.W and the Androids but several attempts were subdued by mass punishment and executions.

Central Valor was No Man's land, both the Androids, L.A.W and the Resistance sought to capitalize on its capture. It was unique in it's positioning because it bordered all the factions, yet was comprised of meta-humans, and supers a territory where the risk was not worth the reward.

In the aftermath, East Valor was the most tamed part of the city; none of the elite would dare challenge The Order's L.A.W, compliance meant living. With her departure, Ada informed her lieutenants to be on the lookout for Brian Newcastle. The Poetic Assassin assigned him a task, one he'd yet to actually complete; so she radioed back to the Lonely Shepard Jameela Sircar. Jameela would instruct him on the importance of being earnest.

The first shot went soaring through the glass as a warning, to give the Valor City Visionary time to clear out. Her personal bodyguards moved in to intercept him, while also erasing the evidence that he was here.

The rocket-propelled grenade went flying into the building exploding on impact. "Capture Brian Newcastle, and his confidant"

Might get in on this.

@jameela_sircar: (couldn't log into valor at work for some reason)

The flames made the shattered glass look like stars scattered across the floor. Brian could see his reflection in the fractals, but he didn't feel present. He could feel himself disassociating as he looked over to the frantically crying Marissa. As an empath, Brian had this instinctive habit to consume the emotions of people around him. He could soothe victims by undertaking their trauma, but at the expense of his own sanity.

"Brian, Brian, what do we do!!?" He was numb on the left side of his face from the warning shot. A ringing noise he couldn't shake as blood slid down his ear. It took only a few moments to rush behind the counter and brace for impact. However, Brian wasn't prepared for the predicament he'd found himself in. Instead, he was startled by the magnitude of the Order's response to his silence.

"I don't know. I need you, I need you to be quiet. I need to focus." It wasn't on purpose, but the fallout from the city's division unlocked something inside Brian's mind. Without the pacifying guidance of the Legacy sisters, his telepathy had this way of overriding people's motor functions. Marissa stood still and placed his hands over her mouth, muffling her panicked cries.

"Think, think, think. What do I do?" L.A.W. enforcement would arrive on the scene within the next ten to fifteen minutes. Their use of Dominus International's Grid system would have alerted their network of the explosion the very moment the shop went boom. It was enough time for the assortment of armed assailants to handle their business. The amount of pressure was aggravating without any sort of assistance or weapons at his disposal.

"God, why can't I ever have a moment to myself?" Brian winced as he peered over the counter for a short second or two. The smokescreen that engulfed the room only made his situation worse. Sections of the ceiling were beginning to cave in as flames danced on the toppled over tables. A putrid smell of burning pastries was such a waste of food, he thought. The whole situation was just a mess and he wanted it over and done with. So, he figured he'd handle the problem as Marissa suggested. Not allowing anyone to get in the way of his vision.

"Leave through the kitchen. My car's parked. Get us the hell out of here. ASAP!!" Brian quickly dropped his keys on Marissa's lap before jumping over the counter and stepping onto the rubble. With his hands raised in the air, the Newcastle prodigy surrendered himself without question. As he walked forward, however, Brian accessed his own personal connection to the Grid. A holographic lens hovered over his eyes as the cameras surrounding the shop captured ever angle of the outside venue. He knew it would only be a matter of time before the corrupt element on his former corporation disconnected him from the server, but for now his eyes were everywhere.

"Hit the gas in reverse, Marissa." For one of the body guards heading to the back, if timed right, would be met by the anxiety ridden momentum of Marissa driving backwards in attempt to pull out of the parking lot. Brian hoped the impact would either concuss or stall her would be attacker. For the remainder of the girl gang, Brian would make a move he wasn't accustomed to. He would try to create a telepathic mirage of several Brian Newcastle's making a run for it in different directions. He hoped to splinter their attention while his true self mad a beeline for the corner of street. He approximated Marissa's arrival in about two to three minutes, give or take, with the intention on leaping inside once she flung the door open upon seeing him sprinting in her direction.

If the group of attackers weren't moved by his distraction, he'd be apprehended without question. The only saving grace would be Marissa's potential escape.

@alexander_west: noted >.>

@legacy_:

Probably not with Alex!

Maybe Tyler or Thomas

I hope she gets his ass. -__-

@rosso: or you could save me

@americanvalor_: I'm afraid to jinx it. The instant I enter an interaction is the instant you vanish.