Action, Adventure, Excitement, Part 9: Anime Chapter 2 Subject: AAE9A: Lethal Negotiations On Tue, 15 Feb 2005 08:57:22 -0500 SkyeFire Said As CAoL Message # 00012380 (And first, a great big block o' QUOTE, because I've been out of circulation for so long....) > Lotor snarls more unprintable comments, despite their being in >Galran (the native language of Planet Doom nee Galra). > "Shield of Darkness on-line," she then adds. > "I could kiss you. EXECUTE!" Lotor commands. > From the center shield, a pool of darkness forms, surface tension >quivering like black oil ready to fall, then bursts out in an ebon >hemisphere, throwing Dorothy into the air like a twig in a storm and >pressing with terrible force against Big O. The clamped fingers >quaver against the field, the gun arm thrust back, and the main torso >is forced to bend at the apex of the shield. The field of darkness slams against the silent Megadeus's chest and left arm, fighting against their deformative resistance to achieve its full hemispherical radius. The iron fingers enclosing Dark Voltron's left wrist spasm and become, if anything, even tighter as the conflicting forces hyperextend DV's sword arm. Any force sufficient to break that implacable hold is going to take DV's arm with it... Dorothy hits the surface of Tokyo Bay curled into a tight ball, hard enough to shatter an unprotected human into a dozen fragments. As it is, her tough construction holds out as she skips several times, but the sheer velocity of impact costs her most of her maid's outfit before she finally hits and begins to sink. She is considering the approach of the mucky bottom with impassive distaste and considering how long it will take her to walk home when the vaguely bat-shaped grappling hook comes squirting down through the water like a watermelon seed on amphetamines and wraps a thin but very strong line around her wrist several times. > Lotor begins to laugh, then, for some reason, stops, considering >his foe carefully. "I don't suppose you would show the good sense to >surrender," he says casually, as if he doesn't really care one way or >the other. Then again, why would he make the offer in the first >place...? The metallic groan of DV's tortured wrist changes pitch upwards slightly as the iron gauntlet tightens a tiny fraction even further... > The answer comes with the sound of massive engines roaring in the >distance. "LOTOR!" A deep, cruel voice rages. > Lotor's head whirls to look behind him. Though the MegaDeus' >visual sensors cannot penetrate the darkness to see the approaching >mech, its other sensors can easily model its massive frame. Built >with the same technology as the Dark Voltron, it is built to much >more "muscular" specifications, not dissimilar to Big O itself >(albeit not as forearm-heavy), with a barrel chest and steroidal arms >and legs. Three spines adorn each of its forearms and lower legs, and >its relatively small head bears huge ram horns, each of which is the >size of the head itself, spiraling to a point which juts slightly >forward, pointing straight out. An axe with as broad a head as >Voltron's chest swings casually from its right arm. The prince gapes >in fascinated horror. "...father?" > "YES! 'Father!'" King Zarkon roars hatefully. "You weak, pathetic, >unworthy half-human AFTERBIRTH! WHAT ARE YOU THINKING? Releasing >hostages to no good purpose, let alone the VOLTRON FORCE! Fighting >opponents face-on when you can stab them in the back or crush them >underfoot! Seven Hells, there's a whole CITY behind you to threaten!" The white glow of Big O's eyes spikes dangerously, but neither invader apparently has the wit to notice. > Lotor struggles against Big O, now desperate to free his sword arm >-- but to destroy the MegaDeus, or for some other reason? "Father, >I...I..." > "You," Zarkon hisses with utter contempt, "have allowed that >_woman_ to weaken you. You're trying to _impress_ her." The huge mech >lands several dozen yards away, the landing throwing steam into the >sky and shaking the earth below. "Still...I _did_ let your mother >influence you more than I should. This is your last indulgence, >however. You are going to hold on to that piece of pathetic human >construction until I can bury my axe in its back. Then you are going >back to that ridiculous mountain headquarters of Zoltar's and violate >your precious princess exactly as I command you. Otherwise, I will >bury this axe in YOUR back and get your replacement from Allura. MY >way." The iron mask of a MegaDeus cannot show expression. It really can't. Otherwise, Big O's face would look revolted, and maybe even a tad sympathetic. > Lotor's eyes bulge. "Human! If you care in the _least_ about the >humans you've come to rescue, release me!" It's clear he's talking to >Roger now. > Zarkon sighs, disappointed. "Suit yourself, Lotor." He hefts the >axe and starts forward. "I hoped you would be a stronger and more >ruthless monarch than even I. You had such potential...were it not >for that witch infecting you." The King of Doom's voice hardens. "I >should have done this long ago." > OOC: How's _that_ for a curveball? So what's the Negotiator >going to do now? OOC: Negotiate like Patton. It turns out my original plans were based on in incorrect recollection of Zarkon's actions (I blame the virus, the drugs, and the comic books). So I had to start over. And since you seem so *dead set* on getting Smith and Lotor to work together, well... Okay. I'll do it. But on MY terms. Smith is *not* going to go lightly on someone who just waltzed into *his* city, shooting up the joint and using hostages as shields, even if he *is* the lesser evil... "ReLeAsE YoU, LoToR? WhY?" The metallic double-layer effect is still present in Big O/Roger Smith's voice as their huge right-arm piston slams back into battery. With a shocking display of pure brute strength, the Megadeus twists its upper body to the left, carrying DV stumbling along with it, while taking a step to the right --- just enough to clear a firing lane to Ramtron, or whatever Zarkon calls his newest soon-to-be-scrap mecha. Big O's shockwave punch was intended as a close-combat weapon, and it is devastating in that role. But it has a surprising degree of tactical flexibility, as Zarkon discovers the hard way as a hollow column of seawater travelling at high Mach numbers strikes Zarkon's mech high in the chest with enough force to lift it clear of the water and send it flying out towards the mouth of the bay, flipping 1.5 complete revolutions before going into the drink headfirst hard enough to bury Ramtron shoulder-deep in the bottom muck, rather like an ostrich. The axe skitters away and sinks. OOC: BTW, is that axe double-bitted, or does it have like a spike on the "back" end? Without pausing, Big O takes advantage of Lotor's understandable moment of shock and *rotates* its left arm, forcing DV's right arm into what amounts to a one-handed elbow lock, and *bends,* driving the off-balance enemy mech to its knees. "YoU cOmE inTo MY citY," the hammered-iron voice grates, "holDinG HostaGes as sHields. You aTTack a CiVilian populatioN unDer MY protEction, withouT Cause. And yoU ask mE to *reLeasE* you? Why shouLd I?" The harnessed rage underlying that voice would make even Eric Lancer nod in (grudging) approval, as well as apparently boosting the MegaDeus's already-appalling strength. The eyeglow spikes again as Big O's left hand tightens, impossibly, even more, and Dark Voltron's wrist structure shrieks in metallic agony as it is brought right to the very precipice of its yield strength. (Meanwhile, Zarkon is finding that pulling one's head out of the mud is nearly as difficult as pulling his own head out of his @$$. Not that the simile would ever occur to *him*...) "I have the mEans and the wIll to destroy you *bOth,*" the merciless voice continues, even as the double-layer effect begins to smooth out. "And I am wIllIng to pAy the price, if need be." The MegaDeus leans closer to the Darkness Shield, somehow looking straight into DV's optics with that implacable iron mask. "But I am a nEgotiator, Lotor. So I will offEr you this onE chance -- what are you offering?" A half-thousand meters away, Ramtron stands up straight out of the bay, streaming much and seaweed from its horns as Zarkon roars incoherently. "DecIde quIckly," the MegaDeus adds tonelessly. Music Cue: Somewhere, there's a universe where Guns&Roses did the soundtrack to "Big O": "Take me down to that Paradigm City Where the mechs are huge and the androids pretty Take, won't you please, take me doowwwwwnnnn, oooooh..." Dorothy broke the surface of the water to find the other end of her ersatz lifeline running through a winch aboard what *looked* like a 1950s wood-hulled Chriscraft racing boat. At the controls was Norman, who gave her a gentlemanly, if unnecessary, hand over the gunwhale. If she was surprised, she didn't show it. "Ah, Miss Dorothy," the one-eyed butler began. "I *am* quite relieved to find you-- er..." Diverting his gaze, he quickly stripped off his long black coat and handed it back to Dorothy, who impassively accepted the gift and began addressing her rather advanced case of (ahem!) deshabille. She noted that, under his coat, Norman had been wearing a full-body bathing suit in horizontal red and white stripes. It went well with his dangling snorkle, forehead-residing facemask, and floppy black swim fins. "As I was saying, Miss Dorothy, I was quite relieved to find you intact. I was rather afraid that the force of impact might have, er..." "Disassembled me?" Dorothy inquired laconically. They watched as Big O knocked Ramtron tail-over-teakettle. "Roger Smith does not appear to share your concern." "He *is* just a bit otherwise occupied at the moment," Norman pointed out with just a hint of reproach. "And, if I may allowed to say so, while he does hold you in very high regard, that regard also includes a great confidence in your skills and strength." He hesitated a moment, then plunged on with rather un-butlerish haste: "And at the risk of exceeding the bounds of propriety, I dare say that Master Roger would be *quite* distressed if anything were to happen to you. Moreso even than myself, and *I* would be distressed most terribly." She turned her dark-eyed gaze on him. "Truthfully?" "Most truthfully indeed, Miss Dorothy," he assured her quite soberly. "During your sojourn with us, Master Roger and I both have become quite fond of you. In his case, perhaps more th--" His lips clamped shut. "More than what?" she inquired. "I am sorry, Miss Dorothy, but I have already spoken much too far out of turn." He shook his head worriedly. "I simply do *not* know what is *wrong* with me today." "I would not be concerned, Norman. Roger Smith is unlikely to hold anything against you." She turned back to the unfolding mecha-drama. "In any event, he must survive first." "Absolutely!" Norman said firmly, stiff upper lip competing with his perfect British diction. "And we must assist him!" "By the way, Norman," Dorothy interjected, holding up the vaguely bat-shaped grapple. "Where did this come from?" "I... am not certain, Miss Dorothy. I found it among various tools and sundries stored in the deep shelters below the manor. I fear it predates the Event. I have never found any records that might explain its presence, or... unusual... shape. It *does* come in quite handy, however." LOCATION: POWERED GEOSTATIONARY ORBIT ABOVE MID-PACIFIC TIME: ABOUT TEN MINUTES AGO "C'mon, pick up something we can go *shoot* at, already!" Kei thumped the main sensor display for the umpteenth time in umpteenth-minus-five minutes. Said display flickered and squealed in electronic protest. "You're going to break it," Yuri commented acerbically from the copilot's seat. "Well, if *you'd* stop doing your bloody nails and hair for the umpty-umpth frakkin' time and *help* me, maybe I wouldn't *have* to!" Yuri sighed and put away her compact. "I do my nails, you break things. We each deal with long waits our own way. Look, Kei, the radar, lidar, dradis, pokemeters, sub-etha-sen-so-matic, and fluglescopes have all been tweaked as tweakily as they can be -- even Mughi's plugged in, right Mughi?" The big coeurl growped agreement from the engineering station, where he was cyberjacked into the main computer. "You see? Roger just overhauled the whole setup last week, remember?" "And threatened to cut us off," the redhead growled resentfully. "Well, that's hardly MY fault," her brunette partner riposted primly. "Oh, yeah? *You're* the one that missed that last torpedo that gutted the instrument bay!" "Well, *I'm* not the one that tried to squeeze a twenty-meter wide ship through a fifteen-meter gap and stripped off all the empennage arrays!" The two Angels glared at each other murderously for a moment beforeturning away to their respective stations with a mutual "hmph!" Several minutes of uneasy silence passed before Kei cleared her throat. "I just... I just can't stand *waiting.* We should be down there, helping him..." "This is where he told us to wait," Yuri said sympathetically. "I know it's hard, but Poppa Roland agreed with him. After all, the Gamilons could show up, or the Invid, or just about anyone." "Hmph!" Kei repeated. "So where are those frakkin' good-for-nothing Starblazers, or the tanjing Robotech Defense Force, fer frak's sake? And besides," she added, her tone suddenly turning sad and a little hurt, "Poppa Roland just likes keeping us far away." She sniffled just a teeny bit. "That's not... entirely... true," Yuri objected, struggling with her innate honesty. "He loves us like his own daughters. He's just... uneasy... about having us near anything he doesn't want blown up." "Yeah, like *anything* withing ten parsecs of *him.*" Kei started to sob, little hicupping heartbreaking sobs. "He's *never* happy to see us. Mama Morgan at least *tries* to pretend..." Yuri rolled her eyes and reached over to pat her weeping partner on the back. It was good to be the emotionally stable member of the team -- when Kei got onto one of these self-pity jags, the only thing to do was ride it out. After all, Poppa Roland and Momma Morgan just needed time to get over all the bad publicity that the Angels had been unfairly stuck with. And they had plenty of time, now. A few centuries, maybe a couple grandkids... Yuri was confident they'd come around. (Somewhere in OOC-space, Roland grabbed Morgan in a deathgrip. "Don't Panic!" "I'm not panickin', boyo, I'm watching *ye* panic. 'tis much more entertainin'.") Eventually, Kei stopped crying, and accepted Yuri's silently proffered hanky. She dabbed her eyes, blew her nose, and tossed the wadded-up cloth into the nearest disposal chute (since Yuri would never accept them back, for some reason....) She set her chin on one fist and stared moodily out the cockpit clearsteel panels for a good minute before an idea struck her and she sat up, tugging at one of her long gloves. "Yuri, let's do it." "Do what?" Yuri looked at Kei, and realized what she was doing. "Um, Kei, not that I *mind,* you understand, but it's just not as much *fun* without Roger too. And besides, we're on duty, technically." "Huhwuzzat?" Kei mumbled, finally getting her glove off. "Hah! What are you-- oh, fer frakkin' out loud!" She held out her bare hand to her partner. "I didn't mean *that* that, I meant *this* that!" Yuri just gaped at her for several seconds as her mind attempted to perform the always-tricky Kei->reality translation, before her partner's intent finally sunk in. "OH! *That!*" Yuri yanked off her own glove and stretched her bare hand out to meet Kei's. -contact- anirontitanbattlinginkneedeepwater apalegirlwithhairthecolorofsmolderingembersordriedbloodscreaming aholocasutofbeamsbulletsmissilescrisscrossing aoneeyedmanwithahugegunfiringatsomethingenormous afireyprojectilecarvingawideswathofdevastationthroughacrowdeddowntown aburningaxeplungingthroughacopperbreastplateinasprayofmeltedmetalandbr ightredNONONONONOOOO! -discontinuity- The Angels jerked apart, chests heaving as if they had been drowning, which was not too far from the truth. Kei's fingers srabbled numbly at the controls even as her eyes attempted to make the journey back to here-and-now. "Kei," Yuri moaned, holding her head. "What are you *doing?*" "Getting to Roger," Kei panted, slapping buttons with hands that felt like hams. "He needs us." "That was part of him," Yuri half-agreed fuzzily, squinting at fragmentary vision-memories. "And he's in trouble. But we shouldn't leave--" "He NEEDS us!" Kei snapped. "And we're GOING!" She glared at Yuri through dangerously glistening eyes, anger a thin veneer over stark terror. "Now are you going to help me, or jump in the FRAKKIN' escape pod?!?" Yuri closed her eyes, picking at the fragments, trying to tease coherent details out of near-chaos. "Kei," she said gently, "it's already happening. We can't make it to him in time." Kei spun the Lovely Angel on all three axes and firewalled the throttles as the blue-white expanse of the Pacific filled the forward windscreens. "Roger built this ship for us," she half-babbled. "It won't let us down, nothing he built would *ever* let us down--" "Kei," Yuri interrupted, reaching for her. "We *can't*--" "We CAN! And we WILL!" Kei shrieked, slapping Yuri's hand away. "Now HELP ME OR GET OUT!" The two Angels stared at each other over the center console for a long moment before Yuri sighed. "All right," she said, reaching out to capture Kei's hand with her own. "I'll help. But you can't go off the deep end, Kei -- if we screw this up, we'll be *pieces.* And you *know* what Momma Morgan said she'd do last time. Your hair just *doesn't* work with my complexion. And if I had *your* waistline, I'd never fit into my armor." "Hey! Who are you calling FA--" Kei's voice cut off as she stared at Yuri in utter shock. A tiny snigger forced its way out of her throat. "*Damn* you for making me laugh." "You needed it," Yuri said gently. "Better now?" Kei took a deep shuddering breath. "...yeah. I'm okay. Thanks, Yuri." Yuri ducked her head, suddenly and uncharacteristically shy. "Hey, what are partners for? Anyhoo... atmospheric interface in two minutes. We have to plot a zero-stop trajectory for Tokyo that doesn't melt the ship or rip the wings off on the way down." "Right," Kei asserted, turning back to her own controls. "I think we can make a bank shot off that proto-typhoon cell over the Samoas..." "What?! The last time we did that, we got lightning-stroked so bad the static charge arced fifty meters to the tank farm when we tried to land!" "Oh, that was SO not our fault! If the spacefield managers hadn't cheapskated on the fire-supression gear for the fuel bunkerage...." TO BE CONTINUED. =========================== Subject: Re: AAE9: Onward On Thu, 17 Feb 2005 17:37:37 -0800 (PST) Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00012390 >Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00012377 > > A crimson military uniform flickers into existence, filled with a >figure of a man that seems impossible short of steroids. Steroids >would probably be less destructive, however, than the deep violet >WRONGNESS of an aura surrounding the new entrant. As he stumbles out of the remains of the futon, Rob shudders. [Ghidrah's sight. I hadn't even considered him...] He hurries out of the apartment, scattering various large bills as he goes. [I hope that covers the damage...] Once in the hallway, he takes the stairs, a flight at a time. > "Hey, Bison!" Piccolo roars. "Tell that runt I'll kill him as soon >as he kicks your @$$ and I kick theirs!" Turning to face Defender, >the Namekian bares his teeth. It isn't a smile. "No chibi-robot, >hero, and no chibi-fighter either, but _lots_ of meat sacs you're >just _dying_ to defend -- WHAT?!" > A miniature earthquake erupts beneath them, and before _anyone_ >can react, Defender and Piccolo are launched into the sky, the fiery >trail carrying them up shouting "Leeeeeeet's ROCKET!" Rob sees this as he bursts into the lobby of the apartment building. [Just what the doctor ordered. I didn't -really- want to find out how much time I had after the two minutes...] > [Blast,] Defender sighs mentally. /Don't hesitate to shout for >help if you have to,/ he adds to Rob through the link as he glares at >Piccolo, a sly, menacing smile forming on his face. /Same to you, D,/ Rob replies. >Reaching out dramatically, power crackles around his outstretched >hand and the chunk of ground glows as Astro releases his burden with >a perfectly timed stop-throw. That allows the android hero to fly up >and around to take a place just above and behind Defender's right >shoulder even as they continue to race upward to over a thousand feet >and climbing. "What's that you were saying?" the armored Champion >almost snarls. > Piccolo snarls back wordlessly. "Big deal." He takes a dramatic >posture to match Defender's and Astro's, one hand and arm held out in >front of him, the other pointing up behind him, index finger upraised >and glowing at the tip, ready to unleash his Beam Cannon. "The >crunchies would have just made killing you _easier._ You want to face >a Dragonball warrior? Then fight, Eternal, and let's _finish_ this!" Bison watches the three leave, then turns his attention to the force that attracted him here. "Where are you? You can't hide forever," he mutters under his breath. A somewhat battered jeans jacket drops to the sidewalk. "I'm not hiding. I just didn't want to trust the elevators." The two fighters square off, an apparent mismatch in the making. Bison is only a few inches taller, but he has roughly half again Rob's mass, and all of that is muscle. "So, there are other masters yet to destroy," Bison rumbles, slowly circling to the left. "If you wish to live, you will make your vow of servitude to me...now." Rob smiles. "Swear servitude to -you-? You aren't even a master of this cosm. You're a pawn of the High Lord, and it shows. You aren't important enough to bow to." "Impertinent fool!" Bison snaps, "I am Master Bison, valdritkar, general of the Mrigankan army, and lord of Shadoloo. Who will I be destroying today?" [Oh, look. He's trying to intimidate me with titles. Oh, and with death. Let's see if I can beat him on titles.] Rob smiles, brushes some dust from his shirt, and replies, "You face Robert Nishikawa, dritkar, member of the Callahanian army, squire of the Pattern, and paladin of Ghidorah. And you will not destroy me today, or any other day." The lord of Shadoloo snarls, and charges forward, sheathing his body in violet flame. [Predictable,] Rob thinks. A forward roll turns into a jump over Bison's attack, and the two square off again. "You're slow. Maybe you should take off those heavy shoulder pads." Bison charges again, and Rob dashes to meet him. The truth of the matter is, Bison is fast. Rob, however, is faster. This barely makes up for the fact that Bison is stronger, tougher, and knows forms that could break the journeyman fighter like balsa wood. But it's enough to land a half-dozen punches before Bison hits once. That one hit, however, sends the younger warrior flying into a street sign, which snaps off at the base. [i...felt that...which one is the real thing...] Rob closes his eyes, blocking out his double vision. Bison smiles. "In time, you might have challenged me. But now, you are mere fodder for my power." [His power...right!] Rob raises his hand, and concentrates. Red energy flows from his palm, then shifts down the spectrum to yellow. "You might do better with your eyes open," Bison taunts, quickly shifting to one side to avoid being targeted by his voice. "And you might do better if your power didn't stand out so much," Rob mutters. "HOWLING FURY!" In a cosm less tolerant of ki abilities, this attack is a high-decibel blast of sound. The blast slams the Mrigankan crimelord through a revolving door, leaving shattered glass and twisted metal in his wake. Both fighters stand slowly, Rob blinking his vision back to normal while Bison picks up his hat, barely taking notice of the crack in his right shoulder pad. [Ooooookaaayyy. Note to self: just a little more punch than I'm used to...] =========================== Subject: AAE9a: Showdown in the Stratosphere On Sat, 19 Feb 2005 01:05:11 -0800 Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00012392 >On Thu, 17 Feb 2005 17:37:37 -0800 (PST) >Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00012390 >>Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00012377 >> >> [Blast,] Defender sighs mentally. /Don't hesitate to shout for >>help if you have to,/ he adds to Rob through the link as he glares >>at Piccolo, a sly, menacing smile forming on his face. > > /Same to you, D,/ Rob replies. /Noted,/ Defender replies with a mental grin, /but _I_ have the anime Superman with me./ The Total Perspective Lens Link adds context, Astro being the first major anime character as well as _the_ "pure of heart" super-powered hero of his meta-reality. >> Piccolo snarls back wordlessly. "Big deal." He takes a dramatic >>posture to match Defender's and Astro's, one hand and arm held out >>in front of him, the other pointing up behind him, index finger >>upraised and glowing at the tip, ready to unleash his Beam Cannon. >>"The crunchies would have just made killing you _easier._ You want >>to face a Dragonball warrior? Then fight, Eternal, and let's >>_finish_ this!" "Namekian spigot, drowning me in boredom..." Defender quips, and his eyes flicker with a mischievous spark, both literally and figuratively. He "unlocks" the energy Piccolo's stored, setting off the Beam Cannon early. As it is neither controlled nor directed, this blows off Piccolo's finger and throws the deadly super-warrior straight towards the Champion. He stops halfway toward Defender, however, as the kinetic energy is reversed. Then again. Again. Again. The young Eternal is beginning to wonder if this is going to be easier than he thought, when Piccolo roars incoherently and gestures outward in all directions. He almost literally throws off the effect with strength far beyond even Defender's considerable might. "HNN!" Defender grunts, pushed back a few inches as he leaves grooves in front of his feet. The flying chunk of asphalt wobbles briefly in mid-air before stabilizing to rise once more. Piccolo grins evilly. "That the best you've got?" "Hardly." Defender grins back, almost as wickedly. A burst of azure force slams into the alien's face, flipping him end over end. "I've got _him._" 'Him' is, of course, the legendary Astro Boy, source of said burst. "Why are you doing this?" young Astro asks reasonably. "What did we ever do to _you?_" Piccolo laughs. "Zoltar had to bribe, threaten, pay off, scam and/or blackmail every other poor sucker in this invasion, boy. Me? I'm a Dragonball warrior. He offered me some good fights as long as I fought for keeps. He held up his end of the bargain." As Astro listens, horrified, Piccolo flexes his muscles and coils to spring. "You're just whetstones, kiddies, and I'm the sword." He leaps. The deadly martial artist is ready for the next kinetic reversal, combining ki and a palm strike to break it apart. Defender, however, expected him to counter a trick already used. So this time, he pushes _down._ Hard. This buries Piccolo in the road. "Swords break before whetstones, antenna-boy." Astro punctuates Defender's statement by landing on Piccolo's head fists-first. While not exactly in Dragonball weight-class, the mighty mite's power is more than enough to leave the alien battered and buried up to his shoulders. With a roar and a powerful flex of his arms, he explodes free of the flimsy prison, throwing Astro through the air and knocking Defender almost a foot back this time. "Whetstones don't tear the guts from their enemies, armor-boy," Piccolo snarls. "I do." Piccolo's within a few feet of hand-to-hand range this time, and they both see his opportunity. The alien barks a short laugh and charges. Defender falls into a slightly clumsy cat stance, knowing full well he's no match for Piccolo at close range. When they meet, Defender drives all his kinetic power into a punch to Piccolo's shoulder, while the Namekian drives a fist into Defender's chest. Even with the Eternal's defenses, this comes perilously close to imploding the hero's rib cage. Then Defender teleports, reappearing on the other side of the flying (and still rising) chunk of street. He wheezes heavily for a few seconds before his regeneration repairs the damage. Piccolo turns, pivoting easily on one foot. The blow to his shoulder heals as quickly as Defender's damage. "Useful trick." "I hate being pulverized," the Champion replies lightly. "Do you have any idea how much that _stings?_" At that moment, Astro flies up and stares into Piccolo's eyes. Which is when the robot's own eyes light up, becoming powerful searchlights. "GAH!" Piccolo cries, recoiling and firing his Beam Cannon wildly. Defender promptly curves the Beam around to hammer the alien's gut. "HKK--" Piccolo grunts, falling to his knees. Half-blind, enraged and wounded, he turns burning eyes on his foes. "You're _communicating_ somehow," he snarls, glaring hatefully at his opponents. #Blast,# Defender transmits, #he's on to us.# #We need to stop him fast,# Astro replies as the two circle the alien in opposite directions, Defender on foot and Astro in the air. #Can you beat him with your mind powers?# #It'd be like taking a pick-axe to a mountain,# the Eternal replies apologetically as their opponent watches the two like a lion eyeing a pair of wolves. #I think it's time to tag out. YIPE!# Defender doesn't quite dodge Piccolo's next charge, and most of his left shoulder goes away as the warrior's fist connects. He heals most of the damage, but his arm moves stiffly now. The alien laughs. #Huh?# #I'll distract, you attack. This time, I think we should go all out,# Defender suggests. #It will take perfect timing on your part, Astro.# #Don't worry, I'm ready!# Astro replies bravely. #All right then,# Defender says with a pulse of reassuring confidence, #ready...GO!# As Astro Boy rockets in and Piccolo pivots to attack again, Defender unleashes several powers at once. While his biokinetic powers are no match for Morgan's, he's skilled in all his abilities, and she's trained him further. He seals off Piccolo's lungs and shifts his muscles around. Simultaneously, he uses his primal energy manipulation to warp the alien's ki, thinning and warping it. Finally, at the same time, he randomly jolts half his opponent's nervous system and drains the other half entirely. While Piccolo could easily counter any one of the effects, dealing with all three at once leaves him badly disoriented. Inability to breathe is bad for any martial artist, and for a ki-wielder it is disastrous. The spasms are almost worse; control is paramount. Still, Piccolo is a deadly master of his arts, and sets about regaining control of his body. Which is when Defender does an ear clap with his telekinesis. At full power. If the Namekian had control of his vocal chords, he would scream in rage and pain. A fraction of a second later, the Eternal repeats Astro's light-flash stunt by focusing all the nearby radiance into Piccolo's eyes for an instant. With an act of supreme will (and prodigious ki expenditure), the godlike alien throws off most of the effects, healing his ears and regaining control of his lungs, vocal chords, and most of his muscles. Focusing further, he makes his eyes clear... ...and sees Astro right in front of him, Arm Cannon humming at full power and reared back to punch, while rocketing at full speed. [So _that's_ what that roaring sound is,] Piccolo manages to think. Then, with perfect mechanical timing, Astro's million-horsepower punch lands at the exact same instant his Arm Cannon goes off, both backed by the full force of his rockets. Piccolo, on the other hand, has just expended enormous reserves undoing Defender's multiple-front attack and still can't force his nervous system to obey. There is a blinding flash of blue light and power. Astro's forward momentum comes to a full stop from the reaction, and his feet reform at the ends of his legs, landing on their platform with a resonant metallic thud. Only their respective sensors allow them to follow Piccolo's arc before the light fades, as his limp form shoots away from them at nearly the speed of sound. "Is he..." Astro begins. "Out like a light," Defender replies. "Fantastic shot, Astro," he adds admiringly. "Aw...you helped," the robot with the heart of gold replies shyly, twisting one foot on the 'ground.' "Thanks, son." Defender starts to gesture outward, then looks at his visor's scanner and chuckles. "Light. You put him in L-E-O." "Low Earth Orbit?" Astro replies, a bit awed. "Gosh, will he be able to breathe?" "He fixed his own lungs before you flattened him, and Dragonball warriors can survive in space. He has enough air to last him until someone can get him down or this invasion goes home." With that, Defender salutes the little robot smartly. "It's been an honor, Astro. You're a true hero." "For me too, sir," Astro replies shyly, blushing faintly as he salutes back. Then, with a last wistful glance back, Defender races downward while Astro rockets toward another section of Tokyo. Grabbing his chunk of asphalt in a TK grip, he hauls his impromptu platform/weapon behind him as he falls toward Earth, looking for more enemies to take on. -- Defender & Astro Boy "Friends will cheer you You're our hero As you go go GO Astro Boy!" =========================== Subject: Re: AAE9: Onward On Thu, 24 Feb 2005 13:09:17 -0800 (PST) Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00012405 >Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00012390 . > The blast slams the Mrigankan crimelord through a revolving door, >leaving shattered glass and twisted metal in his wake. Both fighters >stand slowly, Rob blinking his vision back to normal while Bison >picks up his hat, barely taking notice of the crack in his right >shoulder pad. Bison studies this "Robert Nishikawa" with some respect. [His Ler is stronger than I would have thought.] As he moves through the shattered door, he watches his opponent move, taking more care this time. [He understands the value of patience,] he thinks, [and he's assessing me even as I am him. But he can't stand against me if I get in close...] Suiting action to thought, he jumps into the air, coming down with a two-footed stomp on Rob's crossed forearms. Using the force of the impact to jump even higher, Bison drops down again, this time with a flared fist that also gets blocked. "So you know that technique," Bison notes. "Perhaps this?" Throwing himself into a forward flip, the Mrigankan fighter slashes both feet down, knocking Rob off balance. Then he closes in, slipping behind the younger warrior to set the half-nelson. [Once I have the full nelson, I will drain his power, then break his neck.] Charles Fort would have found the next few seconds fascinating, if only because a phenomenon he had documented was not only observable, but completely controlled. Sadly, he died long before anybody found a way to control spontaneous human combustion. Bison, however, is somewhat less fascinated, since he is holding the person in question. Instead of breaking Rob's neck, he tosses his challenger away, and drops to the ground, rolling back and forth to douse the flames. *** As Rob picks himself up, he takes a quick inventory of the damage from the plate glass window he went through, and puts his Ler to a different use. A flash of green energy closes his wounds neatly, though his left arm still hangs oddly. [He's burned more of his resources than I have. Still - this is Bison. No point in taking chances...] He meets Bison's charge with a fist surrounded in purple, and a cry of, "Ion Charger!" There is a snapping sound as Rob blocks, then jumps away. "Running away? You won't-" Bison rumbles, before the lightning bolt hits. Real lightning, this time, frying Bison's cap and giving him a horrible case of bed-head. Rob reads his opponent once more. "I think it's time to end this," he says, shifting his stance slightly. "Do you want to forfeit, or take this to the end?" "To the end," Bison replies, "but yours, and not mine." He touches a stud on his collar, activating his link to the Psycho Drive. In Mriganka, the Psycho Drive comes to full power, tapping all the evil in its world and drawing off a fragment of each one's power, then feeding it to Bison through a link across the Maelstrom Bridge. The crack in his right shoulder plate sparks slightly, but nothing more, as Bison draws the energy into himself before any strain starts. Rob dashes forward, using his full speed for the first time in the fight. By the time Bison moves to block, Rob is already behind him, striking with a knife-hand. The cracked shoulder plate shatters, and Bison's link goes with it. "That's enough, -Master Bison-," Rob snarls, making Bison's name sound like a mortal insult. "You didn't think you could beat me without a little help? Fine. I'm through playing nice." Time is an absolute when measured on a clock; when measured by a human, it is not necessarily absolute. Two hours can feel like two minutes, or two minutes like two hours, depending on what is happening. Bison's next ten seconds seem to incorporate about five hours of pain. When his vision clears, he sees Rob's fist, charged with a blue aura. [Blue?] Bison thinks, [What does that do?] "GRIP OF WINTER!" ----- Fifteen minutes later, Rob returns to Champions' Island, re-locates his dislocated shoulder, and settles in for a nap. In Tokyo, Bison is being loaded into a police van. A sticky-note on his chest reads, "Crimelord, Mrigankan. - One (1). Will defrost in four hours at room temperature. Handle with care. Keep in locked cell until ready to deport." =========================== Subject: Re: AAE9A: Lethal Negotiations On Fri, 25 Feb 2005 17:07:14 -0800 Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00012407 >On Tue, 15 Feb 2005 08:57:22 -0500 >SkyeFire Said As CAoL Message # 00012380 > >> Lotor's eyes bulge. "Human! If you care in the _least_ about the >>humans you've come to rescue, release me!" It's clear he's talking >>to Roger now. >> Zarkon sighs, disappointed. "Suit yourself, Lotor." He hefts the >>axe and starts forward. "I hoped you would be a stronger and more >>ruthless monarch than even I. You had such potential...were it not >>for that witch infecting you." The King of Doom's voice hardens. "I >>should have done this long ago." ... > "ReLeAsE YoU, LoToR? WhY?" The metallic double-layer effect is >still present in Big O/Roger Smith's voice as their huge right-arm >piston slams back into battery. With a shocking display of pure brute >strength, the Megadeus twists its upper body to the left, carrying DV >stumbling along with it, while taking a step to the right --- just >enough to clear a firing lane to Ramtron, or whatever Zarkon calls >his newest soon-to-be-scrap mecha. > Big O's shockwave punch was intended as a close-combat weapon, and >it is devastating in that role. But it has a surprising degree of >tactical flexibility, as Zarkon discovers the hard way as a hollow >column of seawater travelling at high Mach numbers strikes Zarkon's >mech high in the chest with enough force to lift it clear of the >water and send it flying out towards the mouth of the bay, flipping >1.5 complete revolutions before going into the drink headfirst hard >enough to bury Ramtron shoulder-deep in the bottom muck, rather like >an ostrich. The axe skitters away and sinks. "Hrnn--" 'Ramtron' tries to right itself, legs falling to earth (and sea) as one hand searches blindly for the axe. Enormous amounts of dirt and water sear away as some terrible weapons activate from the monster's buried head. > Without pausing, Big O takes advantage of Lotor's understandable >moment of shock and *rotates* its left arm, forcing DV's right arm >into what amounts to a one-handed elbow lock, and *bends,* driving >the off-balance enemy mech to its knees. > "YoU cOmE inTo MY citY," the hammered-iron voice grates, "holDinG >HostaGes as sHields. You aTTack a CiVilian populatioN unDer MY >protEction, withouT Cause. And yoU ask mE to *reLeasE* you? Why >shouLd I?" Unlike Big O, Voltron (and thus, its counterpart) _can_ show expressions on their faces. This one's is stunned disbelief. > The harnessed rage underlying that voice would make even Eric >Lancer nod in (grudging) approval, as well as apparently boosting the >MegaDeus's already-appalling strength. The eyeglow spikes again as >Big O's left hand tightens, impossibly, even more, and Dark Voltron's >wrist structure shrieks in metallic agony as it is brought right to >the very precipice of its yield strength. "Maximum power to Shield," Lotor commands in a surprisingly calm voice. "Acknowledged," the computer's exquisite voice replies. Though in no condition to use its spinning attack (after being twisted at the hand -- literally -- of Big O, that trick won't be available again without several hours in a machine shop), the strain equalizes. > "I have the mEans and the wIll to destroy you *bOth,*" the >merciless voice continues, even as the double-layer effect begins to >smooth out. "And I am wIllIng to pAy the price, if need be." The >MegaDeus leans closer to the Darkness Shield, somehow looking >straight into DV's optics with that implacable iron mask. "But I am a >nEgotiator, Lotor. So I will offEr you this onE chance -- what are >you offering?" > A half-thousand meters away, Ramtron stands up straight out of the >bay, streaming much and seaweed from its horns as Zarkon roars >incoherently. > "DecIde quIckly," the MegaDeus adds tonelessly. Through Dark Voltron, Lotor spends a brief eternity staring at Big O. Ramtron is striding toward them, axe in hand, horns blazing with deadly power. "Help in defeating my father," Lotor says flatly, "and in restoring Allura to the Voltron Force. Take it or leave it." [You bloody lunatic.] "Traitor! DIE!" Ramtron roars. The two horns fire beams together at an angle, meeting several feet in front of the war machine's head. The resulting much-larger burst of power races towards Big O and Dark Voltron... -- The Doom Royal Family (Does Victor know about these guys? Sheesh. Maybe he oughta sue...) =========================== Subject: AAE9a: G-FORCE! On Wed, 16 Mar 2005 00:25:34 -0800 Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00012427 OOC: So the heroes from the High Lord's show^H^H^H^H reality have only made a cameo thus far. That's wrong, right? Right! Therefore, without further ado... G-1, Mark, commander of the elite fighting unit known as G-Force and greatest hero of his reality, sighed as the blonde with the ridiculously long ponytails leaned on him as she stood. [I hope Princess doesn't get the wrong idea,] the barely post-teen warrior thought, keeping his annoyance in check as the rescuee tried to regain her dubious balance. "Are you all right, miss?" The blonde nodded. "Thanks, I'm...I'm..." She looked at him for a long time. "...blue." Mark blinked. Princess...giggled. [Well, that's a good sign,] he decided, given that Princess could have done far worse. A glance at Jason told him that his second was still flirting with the raven-haired girl in the skimpy red outfit. "Miss?" "Fine! I mean fine!" the blonde blurted, blushing furiously. Then, looking up past the White Eagle, her eyes widened and she tried desperately to shove Mark aside, pointing a silly-looking pink wand with a heart-shaped hand guard beneath wing-quillons. It was as if someone had started making a sword for an absurd romantic but couldn't put a blade on it. "Look out! MOON SCEPTER ELIMINATION!" Mark, always vigilant no matter how absurd the situation may seem, turned to look at what had the girl so terrified, one wing rising defensively before her. Then his own eyes widened and he threw himself in front of the fragile child in front of him, interposing his body to (hopefully) block the massive guns on the incoming starship long enough to either pull her out of the way or take the shot himself. The wand flashed brightly. Incoming fire completely failed to materialize. Mark looked up in astonishment. Where a cigar-shaped forest green space ship had been was nothing but a gentle shower of silver glitter. G-1's jaw went slack. "Are you all right?" she asked him. _She_ asked _him._ Mark nodded. The girl swayed again. "SERENA!" the woman in red shouted, her previous annoyance completely gone, as she ran to the blonde's -- Serena's -- side. "Serena, you meatball," she said without rancor, brushing one ponytail aside. "What happened? Does she have to use her life energy to do -- do -- that?" Mark gestured upward. "Yeah," Jason replied. "Raye was just explaining it to me." Mark nodded. "You ladies have done enough. Get to a shelter." Raye glared at him. "Oh, is the big bad G-Force going to protect us poor defenseless girls?" she asked bitingly. "In your current condition," Mark replied as calmly as he could manage, "you are in no shape to go up against Spectra, and if I know Zoltar, he'll be sending his own forces in soon. You've done well, but your power clearly has limits." Serena nodded. "Raye...listen to him..." Raye shook her head bitterly, but lifted her friend in her arms (quite easily, Mark noted), and gestured with a sideways nod. The other three girls retreated with varying degrees of reluctance. "Thanks," a woman in white and blue (including blue hair -- not that Mark was in any position to judge, given Princess' on-again, off-again green dye job) said, touching his shoulder gently and smiling in weary gratitude. As the Scouts retreated, Princess walked up to her commander. "Mark, if people with powers like _theirs_ are being overwhelmed, what can we do?" "What we can," Mark replied simply, lifting his left wrist to just below his lips. "Tiny, pick us up." "Big ten," Tiny responded instantly, his voice faintly tinny. A moment later, the mighty Phoenix was hovering above the quartet, who shot to the top of the ship and onto a platform, which was immediately covered by a clear dome. The foursome descended as the Phoenix rocketed towards the bay. "What've we got, Princess?" Mark asked as they all took their positions. "Three mecha battling in Tokyo Bay," Princess replied calmly, poring over her scanners from the moment she sat down. "Two standard giant robots, plus that evil version of the 'Voltron' we were briefed on...except I can't tell which side it's on now." "So we blow up the one we know's a bad guy," Jason cut in, "and figure the rest out later." "Brrp -- hothead," Keyop quipped fondly. "We _are_ going to provide backup to the friendlies," Mark said insistently, "but I want everyone to keep an eye out for Spectran war machines. Zoltar's run us ragged with these...whatever they are, we haven't had time to coordinate our side, and he hasn't even thrown a giant robot bug at us yet." G-1 paused. "Where's Defender?" "Scanning..." Princess gasped. "He's fighting Tetsuo." Even Jason reacted, breathing in harshly as Keyop and Tiny gasped and Mark shuddered. "That must be a sight to see," the commander said. "Unfortunately, we don't have the time. Tiny, bring us around. Princess, see if you can raise--" Princess' console started beeping like mad. Mark shook his head, splaying fingers across the side of his helmet. "Don't tell me. Zoltar." "Hover Stars appearing all across the city, commander!" Princess' hands flew across the consoles as Jason set his controls to ready the Phoenix's missiles. "Dozens of them, all launching strangely shaped fighters!" "And I'll bet a week's supply of space burgers that they can dock together," Tiny added unamusedly. "Princess, find the head, I want to fly the Phoenix right down its throat as soon as it shows itself," Mark ordered. "Jason, I'm cutting you loose, if it's Spectran, I want it knocked out of the sky." Jason smiled, his eyes taking on a predatory gleam. "Tiny, take us over the bay, let's lure as many of those fighters away from the city as we can. Tokyo should be fully evacuated by now, but let's not take any chances." "G-Force!" All three replied, saluting. Jason immediately went to his task, bringing down fighters and Hover Stars alike. "Toot toot! What about -- fweep -- me?" Keyop asked mournfully. "Scan for Zoltar," Mark rumbled. "Maybe we can pick up his comm channel before he calls to gloat." "Mark, I've found the head!" Princess called. "Good work! Tiny, bring us--" Mark began. "But we don't want to fly at it head-on," she added, eyes wide. The commander grimaced. "Let's see it." At his command, Princess flipped a switch, activating a monitor above the viewport. An earthworm-like three sectioned mouth raced through the sky, sections of fighter linking up behind it as it passed. The front of the 'mouth' opened as a fighter fired missiles at it, and three sets of gigantic black grinding gear-blades unfolded, making a monstrous drill (OOC: think of the drill-torpedo from Tomorrow Never Dies). The missiles exploded harmlessly against it, the worm-mech almost literally eating the shards before chasing after the fighter. "It's going to catch that guy, Mark!" Jason warned. "I don't think so. FIRE!" Jason unleashed the Phoenix's arsenal on the flying worm, explosions rocking the massive robotic thing. When the smoke cleared... "No damage?!" Jason snarled. "I hate it when he does that," Mark sighed. "Tiny, evasive action!" "Ya don't have to tell _me_ twice!" the pilot replied, spinning the Phoenix expertly as the nearly indestructible worm-drill chased after them. "Keep it away from the robots," Mark ordered. "Jason, keep firing. Maybe it has vulnerable spots -- try the joints, especially from behind." "Big ten!" Jason said, not that he needed the encouragement. "Mark, another drill docked in the rear," Princess reported nervously. "It's invulnerable on both ends now!" "Then we'll have to split the difference," Mark said. "Tiny, how're we doing?" "It started to go after that big black one for a second," Tiny explained, working the controls for all he was worth, "but we've definitely got its attention now!" "Oh, joy," Jason quipped darkly. "The happiness boys from Spectra showing us the love again." "Our only chance is the Fiery Phoenix." Mark gazed at the oncoming monstrosity as if he could burn it with his glare alone. "We don't dare risk going head-to-head with it, but those sections...we'll have to come at it from behind." "But Mark, it has drills on both ends," Princess noted. "How will we stop the other half after we've used the Phoenix?" "Hopefully, one of our allies can take out the other half once we've removed its 'invulnerability.' Otherwise..." Mark stared at it grimly again. "Someone will have to board it to finish it off." "_After_ a Fiery Phoenix attack?" Jason roared even as he slipped a missile between plates, destroying a section. The creature split apart at that section, dropping the destroyed piece of mech and reuniting one length shorter. "Even _you_ won't be in any condition to take on the kind of army Zoltar stocks those things with after that!" "We have to try." Mark's eyes narrowed. "Too much is at stake." "I hate it when you do that," the second muttered. "Aw, great -- commander!" Tiny blurted. "Now what?" Mark asked, looking at the ceiling imploringly. "I think it's onto us! Look!" Tiny pointed at the screen. The worm had abandoned the chase; as incredibly fast as it was, the Spectran machine still couldn't keep up with the Phoenix. It was heading back towards the bay and the city, for easier prey. "Blast. Okay, this is it. Tiny, dive. Jason keep firing. Everyone, brace yourselves. We're going to have to go to the Fiery Phoenix sooner than expected." Mark gripped his armrest with one hand and the lever that would activate the team's most powerful weapon with the other. "Hold on..." As the team chased the deadly mecha-monster, Zoltar laughed... -- G-Force Always five, acting as one -- dedicated, inseparable, invincible! =========================== Subject: AAE9a: The bottom of the barrel On Wed, 16 Mar 2005 11:23:57 -0800 (PST) Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00012428 There are mighty heroes, teams in bright and shining colors. Heroes fighting for the survival of Tokyo with mighty weapons. The Special Duty Unit Shinesman is not one such team. But desperate times... "RED!" "GRAY!" "SEPIA!" "MOSS GREEN!" "SALMON PINK!" "Hiroya, these don't look like the usual invaders," Shinesman Salmon Pink tells Shinesman Red as she kicks one of Spectra's foot-soldiers down the street. "It's probably a cross-over, Riko!" Shinesman Gray yells, as he takes aim. "Business Card Cutter!" A trio of monomolecular-edged pieces of pasteboard fly out, slashing guns in half. Shinesman Sepia leaps out of a dogpile, landing on a streetlight. "Tie Clip Bomb!" The pile of Spectra's soldiers scatters. "Whatever it is, Shojo, there's too many of them!" "Then we need a plan," Shinesman Moss Green replies, "which means it's up to our fearless leader." "I'm - Cuff Beam! - working on it, Ryoichi! But their armor's too tough. We need-" "Better weapons," the team choruses. "It's time to test the newest Shinesman weapon. Everybody, together!" The members of the Special Duty Unit leap to a clear spot, and take their positions, with Red at the center, Sepia and Moss Green to his left, and Salmon Pink and Gray to his right. "Now...RED TAPE BLIZZARD!" A blinding storm of request forms, request form request forms, applications, tax forms, and expense vouchers buries the attacking forces, leaving them temporarily immobilized. "All right! Now, how about that plan?" "We run." The members of the Shinesman team start at their leader. "That's it? I could come up with-" Sepia stops as a bullet whines past him. "On second thought, running sounds good." The defenders of the Right Trading Company flee the scene, leaving a mass of foot soldiers to dig themselves out, suffering a dozen paper cuts for every inch gained. =========================== Subject: Re: AAE9a: The bottom of the barrel On Wed, 16 Mar 2005 14:23:00 -0600 Frank McCoy Said As CAoL Message # 00012429 >On Wed, 16 Mar 2005 11:23:57 -0800 (PST) >Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00012428 > > The defenders of the Right Trading Company flee the scene, leaving >a mass of foot soldiers to dig themselves out, suffering a dozen >paper cuts for every inch gained. A small, nondescript character rolling a wooden barrel appears from between two buildings, halfway up the block from the entangled mass of foot soldiers. Seeing the mess of "men", the person seems surprised; letting go of the barrel and heading for the opposite side of the street at self-preservation speed. The figure seems to more vanish by becoming part of the concrete and steel buildings than disappear into any of them. In seconds from start to finish, the person or whatever is gone. The barrel continues to roll towards the tied up group. Bullets and other assorted means of destruction hit the barrel before it's gone ten feet. No way *this* group is going to let what's probably explosives get into the middle of them. The barrel pretty much disintegrates without exploding or doing anything else spectacular except spilling a clear liquid that *looks* like water, or perhaps fine oil on the pavement. It's obviously *not* oil, because it doesn't catch fire in the sparks and other incendiary tossed at it. About 1/10 of the various munitions are aimed at the spot where the strange figure was last seen. Vainly, as that character/person/entity is now long gone; not even remaining to see the results of the barrel being broken open. Said person valuing it's hide far more than such information. What the liquid *does* do though, is surprising. At incredible speed it spreads curb-to-curb, and even up the side of the curbs, seemingly against gravity. At first there's a fear of the liquid being some kind of incredible acid that would eat even their tough armor. However, the pavement doesn't bubble or fume, or even seem to do anything at all except wet incredible amounts of pavement. If it doesn't hurt concrete or tarmac, the leader of the group figures it won't bother the rather robust armor of their strike-force. And ... It doesn't; or at least not apparently. Instead, it sweeps rapidly under the tied-up group, continues down the street at incredible speed, and a small ripple vanishes into a storm-drain two blocks away; somehow the barrel managing to wet over a block and a half of city street from one "tiny" barrel that couldn't have held more than thirty gallons. The person in front of the group lifts a foot to work his way further out of the entanglement ... and falls flat on his face; the liquid now coating half his body and the faceplate of his armor. At first the person inside the armor acted frightened; but nothing else happens. By this time others in the group discover the properties of the weird liquid, as soldier after soldier looses footing and ends up sprawled on the pavement. Luckily, the stuff has an equally strange effect on the masses red-tape and forms they've been battling; as the paper seems to slump strangely and form a soggy mess on the pavement. Still, it doesn't burn or seem to be hurt in any way. Neither do the troops; except that nobody seems able to regain their feet ... and the whole group, paper and all, seems to be slowly drifting down the street towards that same open storm-drain that mysteriously doesn't have a grating over it, and that appears large enough to swallow at least two of the soldiers at a time. Suddenly one of the men? starts to curse. The language is strange, but that it IS cursing is obvious. All of them have been shifting, trying to get up, and only managing to coat themselves in the mysterious liquid or oil or whatever it is with each struggle. If anybody was watching, they'd see one "person" after another suddenly lose piece after piece of armor ... not damaged; merely falling off; followed shortly by more and more, and even clothing soon following until over half the troop is more than half naked. Struggling mightily the "men" drift faster and faster towards the open storm-drain, which eventually leads to the harbor and sea. As men and weapons become even more coated, the weapons themselves seem to disintegrate. Not by vanishing like you might suspect an acid would do, but by screws falling out, parts falling off, and generally falling apart into component pieces. Up the street, the person who had been carrying the "barrel" giggles to himself. While not exactly a "weapon", a superfluid liquid having an almost zero coeficient of friction, can do nasty things when it meets high-tech things that aren't welded together or seamlessly made. *That* will tie that particular group up for some time. Now unarmed and unarmored, it will take likely half an hour or more before the normal salt and chemicals in the ocean neutralize enough of the "oil" so that the parties involved can even walk up a sandy beach. A good detergent would do the job in mere minutes; but it's unlikely they will find such on their trip down the sewers. A slight giggle, as the person hopes the soldiers can swim for long enough to let the "oil" dissipate. Not being a real fighter him/herself, and not having any family or friends directly threatened by the soldiers, he/she doesn't want to kill, just disable them as fighters. Another giggle, and the person once again fades and seems to become part of the brick and metalwork of the building it's standing next to. The figure is gone. Not *all* people who help win battles are super-heroes. =========================== Subject: Re: AAE9A: Lethal Negotiations On Fri, 18 Mar 2005 23:24:55 -0800 "David McMillan" Said As CAoL Message # 00012440 >On Fri, 25 Feb 2005 17:07:14 -0800 >Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00012407 > >> The harnessed rage underlying that voice would make even Eric >>Lancer nod in (grudging) approval, as well as apparently boosting >>the MegaDeus's already-appalling strength. The eyeglow spikes again >>as Big O's left hand tightens, impossibly, even more, and Dark >>Voltron's wrist structure shrieks in metallic agony as it is brought >>right to the very precipice of its yield strength. > > "Maximum power to Shield," Lotor commands in a surprisingly calm >voice. > "Acknowledged," the computer's exquisite voice replies. Though in >no condition to use its spinning attack (after being twisted at the >hand -- literally -- of Big O, that trick won't be available again >without several hours in a machine shop), the strain equalizes. OOC: Ohhh... I had a completely different concept of how the Sheild worked. >> A half-thousand meters away, Ramtron stands up straight out of >>the bay, streaming much and seaweed from its horns as Zarkon roars >>incoherently. >> "DecIde quIckly," the MegaDeus adds tonelessly. > > Through Dark Voltron, Lotor spends a brief eternity staring at Big >O. Ramtron is striding toward them, axe in hand, horns blazing with >deadly power. > > "Help in defeating my father," Lotor says flatly, "and in >restoring Allura to the Voltron Force. Take it or leave it." [You >bloody lunatic.] The appalling iron grip around DV's left wrist vanishes. "We Have Come To Terms," the MegaDeus states flatly, but it's already maneuvering to its right, bringing weapons to bear on Ramtron in a clear bid to give Lotor a chance to get to his feet. > "Traitor! DIE!" Ramtron roars. The two horns fire beams together >at an angle, meeting several feet in front of the war machine's head. >The resulting much-larger burst of power races towards Big O and Dark >Voltron... Big O counterfires with eye beams and another column of hypersonic water, trying to break up the beam instead of taking Ramtron under fire -- since Smith is the one who *put* Lotor in this vulnerable position, he has an implicit obligation to cover his new ally until Lotor is in a position to defend himself. [Restore Allura to the VF?] Smith thinks with what part of his intellect is not fully engaged with the current hostilities. [I thought I was going to have to free her from *Lotor* after this -- damn it, why can't people make their intentions *clear* when opening negotiations?] =========================== Subject: AAE9a: Collision Course On Thu, 24 Mar 2005 19:57:47 -0800 Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00012464 >On Fri, 18 Mar 2005 23:24:55 -0800 >"David McMillan" Said As CAoL Message # 00012440 > >>On Fri, 25 Feb 2005 17:07:14 -0800 >>Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00012407 >> >> "Traitor! DIE!" Ramtron roars. The two horns fire beams together >>at an angle, meeting several feet in front of the war machine's >>head. The resulting much-larger burst of power races towards Big O >>and Dark Voltron... > >Big O counterfires with eye beams and another column of hypersonic >water, trying to break up the beam instead of taking Ramtron under >fire -- since Smith is the one who *put* Lotor in this vulnerable >position, he has an implicit obligation to cover his new ally until >Lotor is in a position to defend himself. One thing about villains that last more than three episodes; they have _great_ survival instincts. Dark Voltron recovers with impressive speed, bringing the legendary blade to bear while he slides sideways above the water. At the same time, neither the eye beams nor the column of water alone would be enough to stop Ramtron's Horn Buster, but together they dissipate the blast to the point that the arm shields can block it. (If Big O _doesn't_ bring up the arm shields, the Megadeus will feel the blast, but won't exactly suffer terminal damage.) Within Dark Voltron, Lotor smiles grimly. "You chose strength and raw force over puissance and agility, father. That will cost you." "Blazing Sword at twenty percent power and falling," the Allura-like voice intoned. Lotor's curses literally peeled a bit of paint within the cockpit. "Reduce power to Sword by 50% and divert all power from Shield of Darkness." "Confirmed," the computer replies, and the light-devouring hemisphere protecting the mech vanishes. [For the first time,] Lotor mused as he fired a volley of Optic Incinerators at Ramtron's head, [I feel some sympathy for the Voltron Force. I wonder if allying with heroes is always this frustrating.] Still, the advantage appears to be theirs. Two against one, with Big O having suffered only moderate damage and DV both fully mobile and wielding the Blazing Sword. Ramtron, while enormously powerful, is obviously in serious trouble. {Zoltar! Help me!} Zarkon roars over the comm unit. {Why?} the High Lord's silky voice responds smoothly. {Wh-WHAT?!} {Lotor should prove more pliable, with Allura in my control,} Zoltar explains calmly, {and even the mighty Phoenix is no match for the Sword of Arus, however corrupted. What purpose can you serve now?} Zarkon bit back several threats. {Lotor has sworn an oath to help the human defeat me and rescue Allura. Honor is all my son has left now.} Zoltar sighs. {Really? How foolish. What a pity. Your son had such...potential.} Zarkon watches as the almost delicate form manipulates some controls off screen. {Your assistance should be inbound now. If you are fortunate enough to return alive, we shall discuss the foolishness of threatening those with the capacity and will to do something about it.} The screen goes dark. King Zarkon snarls. [You had better hope that your precious 'Luminous One' isn't in the market for a more forceful High Lord, Spectran,] he thinks ominously. Meanwhile: >On Wed, 16 Mar 2005 00:25:34 -0800 >Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00012427 > "I hate it when you try to get yourself killed," the second >muttered. > "Aw, great -- commander!" Tiny blurted. > "Now what?" Mark asked, looking at the ceiling imploringly. > "I think it's onto us! Look!" Tiny pointed at the screen. > The worm had abandoned the chase; as incredibly fast as it was, >the Spectran machine still couldn't keep up with the Phoenix. It was >heading back towards the bay and the city, for easier prey. > "Blast. Okay, this is it. Tiny, dive. Jason keep firing. Everyone, >brace yourselves. We're going to have to go to the Fiery Phoenix >sooner than expected." Mark gripped his armrest with one hand and the >lever that would activate the team's most powerful weapon with the >other. "Hold on..." > As the team chased the deadly mecha-monster, Zoltar laughed... As DV circles Ramtron, who slowly retreats in an attempt to keep either mech from flanking him, a gigantic flying -- snake? worm? -- with screaming tri-drill heads on each end drops towards Big O, slithering with fantastic agility. Fortunately, it isn't enough to evade the Fiery Phoenix. The legendary super-attack of the great craft tears through almost two-thirds of the mecha-worm, exploding section after sinuous section, finally ripping one head apart from behind. Moments later, it soars up, avoiding a collision with the bay at the last second. A few seconds after _that,_ what remains of the 'worm' is moving to encircle the black Megadeus, hover stars spitting new sections from above as it approaches. Its ugly, obscene head is aimed right for Big O's neck. G-Force watches in horror, at least as much as they are able, as they recover from the effects of the Fiery Phoenix. "commander..." Tiny groans. "I see it," Mark breathes unsteadily in response. "Bring us around. Jason? You still with us?" "...can i get back to you?" Jason groans. "No," the commander replies. "Then I'm still with you," his second says reluctantly. "Aim for the nearest Hover Stars," Mark orders, gesturing weakly at the viewport. "Princess?" He can't help a smile of relief at her wordless groan of reply. "Scan the remaining head. I have a feeling I'm going in." His smile vanishes at her responding distressed moan. Meanwhile, Lotor sighs. [I suppose I should do something,] he thinks, disgusted with himself for allowing his situation to come to helping a human 'hero.' DV falls back toward Big O, Blazing Sword swinging with expert precision to tear otherwise-resilient mecha sections out of the sky. {"As much as it galls me to ask this...now what?"} he transmits to Big O. Zarkon laughs. {Now?} the king replies. {Now you die, both of you.} The horns spiral open into almost dish-like shapes, while the chest plates swing outward to reveal a gigantic battery of energy projectors. The Phoenix wheels around quickly, if clumsily, while Dark Voltron braces itself for a fast dodge... -- G-Force Always five, acting as one -- dedicated, inseparable, invincible! (Oh, yeah, and that Lotor guy. ;^) =========================== Subject: AAE9a: Mind War On Wed, 06 Apr 2005 23:10:47 -0700 Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00012490 Roland heard a scream echo all around him as another wave of power threw him into the ground. The scream faded into a laugh, the mad psion Tetsuo floating down towards him as Defender rose to his feet. Again. [I know I could take him,] Roland thought, frustration burning inside him, [if I hadn't just gone twelve rounds with Random Dragonball Villain #3!] It wasn't terribly hard to twist the energy around before it did real damage to Defender himself, but his armor was cracked and broken in several places and he hadn't been able to penetrate Tetsuo's instinctive defenses for a few minutes now. [He should be getting tired, or confused, by now,] he wondered. "You're looking pretty fresh for someone who's been fighting me for ten minutes," he called up. "Maybe you should take a breather." Tetsuo laughed harder. "I'm doing just _fine,_ Mr. Big Shot. Sounds like _you_ could use a break. Not that I haven't given you plenty already!" More laughter. With half of Defender's helmet gone, his grimace and teeth-grinding were clearly visible. [I didn't want to do this,] Roland thought reluctantly, [but I have to start scanning him, at least, in case I _do_ have to use biokinesis on him.] A wave of subtle power washed out from the Eternal, reading the flows of life energy roaring through the boy. [...what?] There was some hypertech device implanted in the side of his neck. The rounded dark-green protrusion was covered by the bunched-up cloth around his neck from where he'd forced the material of his 'cape' to seal together. "Zoltar," Defender rumbled angrily. "Tetsuo, you have to listen to me--" "NO!" A blast of raw power flew out of the boy, so intense it threw even Roland back over a hundred feet. "I'm DONE listening to you people!" "But you listen to Zoltar, right?" Defender drawled back, brow raised over the one visible eye. "How smart does _that_ sound?" "Zoltar HELPED me!" Tetsuo fired another burst of power at Roland, who was able to deflect part and dodge the rest. "This thing was driving my crazy, it was KILLING me, it almost killed KAORI! He was the only one who --" A laser sprang into existence between them for a second, then vanished. Tetsuo turned, a mad smile on his face. "Ka-nayyyda." "Hey, Tetsuo," Kaneda drawled casually. "That green-haired kid get bored with you?" Sil yanked on the rocket car's controls, dragging them out of the way almost by force of will as Tetsuo screamed and made the world explode around the spot where they'd been a fraction of a second before. The young woman who'd been with them gazed placidly at the conflagration, eyes glowing faintly, and the reshaping of earth, asphalt and cement turned in on itself. "He..." Tetsuo looked confused for a moment, his attacks subsiding. [He looks...lost,] Roland thought, sympathy suddenly welling inside him. He hadn't gone through what Tetsuo was dealing with, but he remembered all too well what it was like to suddenly wield the powers of the cosmos with no training manual and all the rage in the world pooled inside him. "He vanished, took the pink cat that antenna-guy hurt with him," Tetsuo said slowly. "Said he was getting something ready for me." All at once, the rage returned, masking the hurt that had pulsed briefly behind his eyes. "He thinks I'm going away. You _all_ want me to go away." "Oh, great," Kaneda sighed. "Jerk," Sil and the other lady said in unison. "WELL I'M NOT GOING ANYWHERE!" Tetsuo screamed, and a ball of raw power formed around him. It began to spread -- -- then stopped, running into a blue sphere of power that had sprung up around it. "Thanks, guys," Defender said, hand outstretched and most of the damage healed. "Now, Tetsuo," he added slowly, "you've been a bad boy." Tetsuo's reply was unprintable. He focused the sphere's energy into a beam, which tore through Roland's sphere like tissue, but Defender wasn't bothering with it; by the time Tetsuo was even making a serious attempt at taking aim, Defender had teleported behind the insanely powerful teen. "This," he said evenly, hand clamped on the Spectran implant, "has done its job." With that, he pulled. Before he pulled, of course, he had already used his TK and Bio-K to harmlessly sever its connections to Tetsuo's body. He teleported the offending device a hundred meters above them as soon as it was clear. There, it exploded. Tetsuo looked up in goggle-eyed amazement. "He...it..." Defender nodded, the rest of the armor's damage gone. "That's Zoltar for you." "I...feel..." Tetsuo wrapped his arms around his own body. "Kaneda, I'm..." Kaneda stared at his friend. "Kay, what's happening? Sil, you said he'd be all right!" "He will be," Sil replied softly. "But he can't stay here any more." "I'll be okay, Kaneda," Tetsuo replied. "Thanks." He turned to look at Defender, looking slightly translucent. "You too. I, uh, have to say goodbye to Kaori." Defender simply smiled and nodded. Tetsuo touched Defender's helmet, restoring him to full health and power with a mere flicker of thought, then vanished. "Tetsuo..." Kaneda whispered. "It's for the best, Kaneda," the lady -- Kay -- whispered. "Sorry, kiddo," Sil added, then looked up with wide eyes. "Damn. INCOMING!" Again, the android yanked on the controls, throwing Kaneda and Kay into each other's arms, albeit in a way they really weren't in any condition to enjoy. A red-trimmed black suit of armor over eight feet tall raced past, a double-ended blade tearing at one side of the rocket car. http://cdecas.free.fr/robots/images/tekk-evil.jpg Then he turned and barrelled toward Defender, who blasted away only to find his attacks deflected by the rapidly spinning double-saber. When Defender relented briefly, the armored figure saluted him ironically. "My name is Cain," the ebon form drawled sadistically, "but rest assured I am _not_ here to help you." "Great, everyone's a comedian," Defender sighed in response. Both figures glowed, then struck... TBC =========================== Subject: Re: AAE9A: Collision Course On Thu, 07 Apr 2005 15:24:26 -0400 David McMillan Said As CAoL Message # 00012494 >Roland X wrote: >>Big O counterfires with eye beams and another column of hypersonic >>water, trying to break up the beam instead of taking Ramtron under >>fire -- since Smith is the one who *put* Lotor in this vulnerable >>position, he has an implicit obligation to cover his new ally until >>Lotor is in a position to defend himself. > > One thing about villains that last more than three episodes; they >have _great_ survival instincts. Dark Voltron recovers with >impressive speed, bringing the legendary blade to bear while he >slides sideways above the water. > At the same time, neither the eye beams nor the column of water >alone would be enough to stop Ramtron's Horn Buster, but together >they dissipate the blast to the point that the arm shields can block >it. (If Big O _doesn't_ bring up the arm shields, the Megadeus will >feel the blast, but won't exactly suffer terminal damage.) Water is one of the best energy-absorptive substances around, but it would take far more than what Big O's ram cylinder can contain to completely absorb *that* blast. Still, converting the water to steam eats up several gigajoules, and the resulting vapor helps break up the collimation of the remainder. Which means that what reaches the MegaDeus is still plenty hot, but far less *concentrated* than it\ should be. Big O interposes its right arm alone as the beam strikes, pivoting its left to keep the open wound in the forearm shield out of the beam path. The coverage is less than the two-arm ideal, but leaves the towering black mech with one arm and the outer edges of its torso glowing a dull cherry-red. But the head and the torso-mounted weapon systems are intact. OOC: BTW, "Horn Buster"? Oy... Smith's going to have to 'negotiate' with Zarkon over trademark infringement... > Within Dark Voltron, Lotor smiles grimly. "You chose strength and >raw force over puissance and agility, father. That will cost you." > "Blazing Sword at twenty percent power and falling," the >Allura-like voice intoned. > Lotor's curses literally peeled a bit of paint within the cockpit. >"Reduce power to Sword by 50% and divert all power from Shield of >Darkness." > "Confirmed," the computer replies, and the light-devouring >hemisphere protecting the mech vanishes. [For the first time,] Lotor >mused as he fired a volley of Optic Incinerators at Ramtron's head, >[I feel some sympathy for the Voltron Force. I wonder if allying with >heroes is always this frustrating.] OOC-Roger just sort of waves vaguely in OOC-Roland's direction with a "'nuff said" expression.... > Still, the advantage appears to be theirs. Two against one, with >Big O having suffered only moderate damage and DV both fully mobile >and wielding the Blazing Sword. Ramtron, while enormously powerful, >is obviously in serious trouble. Big O lunges into motion, circling Ramtron in the opposite direction of Dark Voltron. A couple chains go firing Ramtron's way, just to keep Zarkon busy (and cut off at Big O's end, just in case of any electrical attacks), as the cover panels of the MegaDeus's missile battery snap open. Six cells of three missiles apiece add up to a broadside of eighteen short-range missiles with heavy self-forging antiarmor warheads. All headed Ramtron's way, Roboteching picturesquely. None of the missiles manage a truly critical hit against Ramtron'sheavy armor, but they certainly rattle Zarkon around quite nicely, inflicting of lot of hopefully-exploitable armor damage in the process. > {Zoltar! Help me!} Zarkon roars over the comm unit. > {Why?} the High Lord's silky voice responds smoothly. > {Wh-WHAT?!} > {Lotor should prove more pliable, with Allura in my control,} >Zoltar explains calmly, {and even the mighty Phoenix is no match for >the Sword of Arus, however corrupted. What purpose can you serve >now?} Big O's right-arm gunpod deploys and rakes Ramtron mercilessly with an ammo-devouring hail of fire, along with more entangling chains. Roger Smith and the MegaDeus are still keeping their biggest guns in reserve, maneuvering rather than taking a solid firing stance for the Chrome Buster or the torso cannon array. With Dark Voltron and the surrounding cityscape, neither of Tokyo's defenders want to take anything less than a sure shot with weapons that could reach all the way to Fuji-San. > As DV circles Ramtron, who slowly retreats in an attempt to keep >either mech from flanking him, a gigantic flying -- snake? worm? >with screaming tri-drill heads on each end drops towards Big O, >slithering with fantastic agility. Distracted, Big O swivels partly away from the staggering, but still essentially intact, Ramtron. *This* target looks like a Chrome-Buster-or-nothing target-- > Fortunately, it isn't enough to evade the Fiery Phoenix. > The legendary super-attack of the great craft tears through almost >two-thirds of the mecha-worm, exploding section after sinuous >section, finally ripping one head apart from behind. Moments later, >it soars up, avoiding a collision with the bay at the last second. ...Or, maybe not. OOC: Man, that brings back memories. I was *awed* by the FP, back when I watched it when I was ~5yo or so. > A few seconds after _that,_ what remains of the 'worm' is moving >to encircle the black Megadeus, hover stars spitting new sections >from above as it approaches. Its ugly, obscene head is aimed right >for Big O's neck. Or, maybe *so.* Regenerative mecha, what a concept. Big O forces Ramtron to duck away from another water slug, and turns to face the new threat. "Lotor! He's all yours -- I'll keep the worm busy. Just remember we've got more work to do after this fight." The surface of the bay is rapidly becoming an unsafe place for any combatant below the several-hundred-tonnes weight class. Norman punches the throttles of the old-looking Chriscraft, which reveals it has quite a bit more than a Rolls-Royce Merlin under the bonnet. He and Dorothy steer away from the hot zone, circling towards the outer edges of the combat zone. > G-Force watches in horror, at least as much as they are able, as >they recover from the effects of the Fiery Phoenix. "commander..." >Tiny groans. > "I see it," Mark breathes unsteadily in response. "Bring us >around. Jason? You still with us?" > "...can i get back to you?" Jason groans. > "No," the commander replies. > "Then I'm still with you," his second says reluctantly. > "Aim for the nearest Hover Stars," Mark orders, gesturing weakly >at the viewport. "Princess?" He can't help a smile of relief at her >wordless groan of reply. "Scan the remaining head. I have a feeling >I'm going in." His smile vanishes at her responding distressed moan. In the skies *high* above Tokyo, a bright spark slowly kindles into sight, growing larger with a speed that would be frightening if anyone were paying attention. Tokyo's airspace has exchanged its Fiery Phoenix for a Burning Angel. The atmosphere howled and clawed at the hull like a berserk, vicious animal. Well, if said animal were armed with hypersonic shockwave claws and breathed raw plasma at temperatures that exceeded that of the surface of your average G-type star... Kei and Yuri were flying almost entirely by cyberlink now -- the bone-rattling vibration of their mad passage had become a screech like fingernails on a chalkboard that had rendered eyes and ears essentially useless, and hands nearly so. #Massive energy releases in the target zone, multiple signatures. It's a real bar fight down there.# For some reason, Yuri's cybernetic 'voice' sounded as if her teeth were chattering, even though her real mouth was locked tight against the vibration that would have shattered them otherwise. #Yeah. Controls are getting mushy... aero surfaces are starting to warp and I'm starting to get primary actuator warnings all over the place.# #So much for the paint job. We've got sonoluminescent boiloff in the main fuel tank -- I'm venting through the skin poors for cooling. We won't need it an--* BAM! The burning Angel lurched drunkenly as the vibrato roar of their passage took on a new, shrieking note. #DAMMIT! We almost lost it -- a tumble at this speed would *shred* us! What the HELL happened?!?# #Warhead in Missile Two cooked off at just 17% over temp redline Roger'll be pissed. The blowout panels did their job, but now the cells are exposed. I'm jettisoning, hang on--# The Lovely Angel bucked and writhed like a living thing under Kei's hands as jettisoned ordnance entered their shockwave sheath and disturbed the ship's already-chaotic aerodynamic profile. #FRACK me! Is that all of it? What have we got left?# #That's all the ordnance. I don't think any of the beam weapons are safe to fire -- I think most of the emission ports are slagged. Active sensors are *gone,* the active arrays that aren't totally carbonized can't emit a slagging thing through this plasma sheath. Passive sensors are going -- I can only detect the biggest guns ahead. If someone's locking us up for a shot, we'll never see it coming.# #...well, *felgercarb.# You know what that means.# #Yeah. We've always got one last weapon left...# #That's what makes us the Angels. Mhugi, time to go -- bobble up and get gone.# #Growf!# #Don't argue with me furball! Someone has to live through this, and you're it. Now GO!# #Growwwwf...# A perfectly reflective spherical spacetime shear surface snapped into being around the couerl. A short-range teleporter energized and popped the bobble and its contents to a point about five hundred meters directly astern of the Angel. #...okay, he's gone. Anything else?# #Update our wills?# #...YOU have a WILL?!?# #Well...# #Yuri, I am SO disappointed with you. WE don't make out wills, we make OTHER people make out THEIRS.# #Well, I just had some loose ends I wanted to tie up, just in case...# GENOM-Paradigm HQ Arcology: "You see? As I predicted, your Negotiator is checkmated and will be soon cease to present us with any difficulty." "Hmph. So *you* say -- *I* still say you're underestimating his resourcefulness. And his damnable luck. And what about *your* Knight Sabers?" John Douglas Quincy, President of G-P, snorted in his trademark big-diesel voice. "They are hardly *my* Knight Sabers. And unlike *your* Negotiator, my dear Alex, the Knight Sabers have never been anything more than a source of amusement, and an occasionally useful tool. A handful of my forces are already keeping them occupied." Alex Rosewater, G-P CEO, scowled at the sprawling vista of Tokyo visible through the enormous wraparound armorglass cylinder that made up the entire perimeter of the top of the G-P's circular-ziggurat-like HQ arcology, rather than look at his nominal co-head of the corporation. A handful of floating holographic displays screened sensor-fusion enhanced views of the battle in the bay, which was by this point becoming obscured from normal sight by smoke, steam, and various coruscating energies. "Your overconfidence is going to be your downfall before long, Quincy, and I hope I'm there to see it. Enemies are obstacles to be crushed, not toys to play with." "Ah, but Alex," Quincy sighed condescendingly. "Wherever *else* would I find such *fascinating* entertainment? Once Zoltar is victorious, I'll need to cultivate my little crop of heroines carefully -- if they realize the true magnitude of the odds against them, they'll give up. And where would the fun be in *that?*" Whatever scathing retort Rosewater might have made was lost as a great flaming *something* streaked directly over the arcology a paltry few hundred meter above their heads at high Mach numbers. Even through the massive construction sheltering them, the shockwave was enough to knock both executives off their feet, craze the armorglass with a spiderweb of cracks, and leave their ears numbed and ringing. They'd barely a chance to begin realizing that something had happened when the featureless mirrored sphere plowed through the southeast quarter of the amphitheater-size office at just under Mach 1, caromed off the armored floor, and shot out through the cracked armorglass on the northwest side of the building at about 2/3 its original speed, heading in the general direction of Nerima. Once he was confident that the world had stopped screaming, exploding, crashing, turning upside-down, and other such improper things, Alex Rosewater stood up, slowly and carefully brushing dull-edged shards of armorglass off his clothes. He could feel a dozen small wounds in his exposed skin left unprotected by the soft armor of his business suit, but did not touch them. He looked down at Quincy, who still appeared to be rather shell-shocked. Rosewater longed to rub salt into Quincy's own assorted wounds, but since the other executive's ears were probably still ringing as badly as his own, he was forced to settle for a disgusted "I told you so" expression. Quincy just blinked at him dumbly. The wrinkled, wizened old woman was in the middle of her usual routine of flinging scalding-hot bowls of ramen noodles across the resteraunt when she suddenly froze in mid-toss. The resulting botched throw got away from her great-granddaughter (who was caught leaning the wrong way) and nearly resulted in the first "McDonald's Coffee" lawsuit in Japan. Ignoring the outburst of noise from her customers, the old woman tilted her head in a "listening" pose for another second... then hopped atop the main service counter and began bellowing in a voice that her lungs should not have been able to support. "OUT! EVERYONE OUT NOW!!! GET ACROSS THE STREET AND INTO ANOTHER BUILDING!" It said something about daily life in Nerima that not one customer so much as blinked before obeying her. It said something more that they managed a mass exodus through the doors and windows in a chaotic fashion that still managed to be just orderly enough to avoid any pileups. A tall young man with very long black hair and coke-bottle glasses stumbled out of the kitchen, peering about him owlishly (the glasses being perched atop his forehead). "What are you yelling about now, old ghoul?" he asked the nearest potted fern. WHACK! The old woman's gnarled walking stick struck him over the head with a sound like hitting solid concrete. "Are your ears as defective as your eyes, Mr Part-time? GET OUT OF THE BUILDING!" Following her own advice, she pogoed out the front door on the heels of the last customers with surprising speed. Behind her, Shampoo debated internally for a moment before sighing and grabbing Mousse's and dragging him along in Cologne's wake. After all, she could always kill him later... Mousse, higher brain functions terminated by the touch of her hand, bobbed along behind her like a lead balloon blitzed on happy-juice. Outside, across the street, and sheltering behind a handy truck, Cologne was joined by her heir and her heir's obsessed stalker -- er, paramour. "Great-Grandmother? What is? Yak-boy? Rouge? Lost Boy finally lose it?" "None of the above, Shampoo. Remind me to tell you about Stalingrad and the Luftwaffe Stukas sometime." "...what?" It was at about this point that the mirror ball dropped out of the sky into the middle of the Cat Cafe with the force of about five kilograms of TNT. "...Aiyaaaaah," Shampoo breathed as the dust cleared enough to see the extent of the damage. "Does our insurance cover extraterrestrial bombardment?" Mousse, who had finally seated his glasses properly, inquired. Cologne just shook her head ruefully. "This has something to do with that negotiator boy, I just know it. Perhaps I shouldn't've brushed him off so quickly...." #Engines gone, primary and backup power down, no sensors at all... how are *flying* us?# #Pure gorram talent, that's how!# #(pure ego, you mean...)# #WHAT?# #Nothing. Hey, Kei, I just realized something.# #...what?# #Absolutely nothing's happened this time that's our fault!# #Yuri, it's *never* our fault. Well, okay, almost never.# #Yeah, but this time no one can even *blame* us for anything!# #...you've got a point. But you know those fragging "investigative" journalists -- they'll find *some* way to pin it on us.# #Oh. Poo.# > Meanwhile, Lotor sighs. [I suppose I should do something,] he >thinks, disgusted with himself for allowing his situation to come to >helping a human 'hero.' DV falls back toward Big O, Blazing Sword >swinging with expert precision to tear otherwise-resilient mecha >sections out of the sky. {"As much as it galls me to ask this...now >what?"} he transmits to Big O. "Okay, now we--" > Zarkon laughs. {Now?} the king replies. {Now you die, both of >you.} The horns spiral open into almost dish-like shapes, while the >chest plates swing outward to reveal a gigantic battery of energy >projectors. [Dammit, we have *got* to stop using an open channel,] Roger Smith grouses to himself... just before a cold chill runs down his spine. "HIT THE DECK!" There's one link of the great mecha-worm passing directly between Ramtron and Big O. Acting without conscious thought, the MegaDeus/Domineus pair drive a shockwave punch against the outer shell, with enough force to split a long, narrow crack in the outer casing -- a crack just big enough for powerful iron fingers to attack, grip, clamp... and HEAVE. #Well, this is it. Bye, Yuri.# #Bye, Kei. Love you.# #Love you too, Y--# > The Phoenix wheels around quickly, if clumsily, while Dark Voltron >braces itself for a fast dodge... For just a moment, as Ramtron fires, Big O brings the entire mecha-worm to a dead stop, huge feet digging calf-deep into the bay's bottom muck. The link gripped in the MegaDeus's great iron hands is lifted out of the water, directly between Big O and Ramtron as Zarkon's mech fires-- --and a screaming, burning angel strikes the worm's remaining head like something straight out of the Old Testament. =========================== Subject: Re: AAE9A: Collision Course On Tue, 12 Apr 2005 00:21:40 -0700 Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00012500 >On Thu, 07 Apr 2005 15:24:26 -0400 >David McMillan Said As CAoL Message # 00012494 > >>Roland X wrote (As CAoL Message # 00012464): >> >> Still, the advantage appears to be theirs. Two against one, with >>Big O having suffered only moderate damage and DV both fully mobile >>and wielding the Blazing Sword. Ramtron, while enormously powerful, >>is obviously in serious trouble. > > Big O lunges into motion, circling Ramtron in the opposite >direction of Dark Voltron. A couple chains go firing Ramtron's way, >just to keep Zarkon busy (and cut off at Big O's end, just in case of >any electrical attacks), as the cover panels of the MegaDeus's >missile battery snap open. At the same time, Dark Voltron's eyes blaze into deadly life, tearing at Ramtron's form. Ramtron's primary tactic seems to be staying out of DV's sword range, as evidenced by the withering point-defense fire he cuts loose with. The chains are abused, but only one of them breaks. > Six cells of three missiles apiece add up to a broadside of >eighteen short-range missiles with heavy self-forging antiarmor >warheads. All headed Ramtron's way, Roboteching picturesquely. OOC-Rachel & Liam: "Ooo, look, Rog'r made a new word!" >> Fortunately, it isn't enough to evade the Fiery Phoenix. >> The legendary super-attack of the great craft tears through >>almost two-thirds of the mecha-worm, exploding section after sinuous >>section, finally ripping one head apart from behind. Moments later, >>it soars up, avoiding a collision with the bay at the last second. > > ...Or, maybe not. > > OOC: Man, that brings back memories. I was *awed* by the FP, back >when I watched it when I was ~5yo or so. OOC: Yeah. I wanted to be Mark when I grew up (unlike 90% of the _rest_ of the male BotP-watching population, who apparently wanted to be Jason). Come to think of it, I still do. It occurred to me recently that Roland's spiritual ancestry shows a lot of BotP influence... >> A few seconds after _that,_ what remains of the 'worm' is moving >>to encircle the black Megadeus, hover stars spitting new sections >>from above as it approaches. Its ugly, obscene head is aimed right >>for Big O's neck. > > Or, maybe *so.* Regenerative mecha, what a concept. Big O forces >Ramtron to duck away from another water slug, and turns to face the >new threat. "Lotor! He's all yours -- I'll keep the worm busy. Just >remember we've got more work to do after this fight." "Agreed," Lotor replies, turning to face his father. Ramtron's faceplate is as unmoving as Big O's, but watchers could _swear_ they see it smirk all the same. "Fool boy. Too much of your mother in you," Zarkon laughs. Then he throws the axe at Dark Voltron. It spins at helicopter-blade speeds as it hurtles toward the mimic-mech. Lotor brings up the Blazing Sword, parrying the deadly weapon, but it comes around for another pass. Zarkon laughs again as Lotor spits out yet more invectives. > Whatever scathing retort Rosewater might have made was lost as a >great flaming *something* streaked directly over the arcology a >paltry few hundred meter above their heads at high Mach numbers. Even >through the massive construction sheltering them, the shockwave was >enough to knock both executives off their feet, craze the armorglass >with a spiderweb of cracks, and leave their ears numbed and ringing. Downtown Tokyo Arcology (an annex of the city proper). A small Boomer war is going on, with police models and those mil-spec units not suborned by Spectra are battling a distressingly large number of high-end experimental combat models with serious firepower. Leon McNichol and Dan Dastun stand shoulder to shoulder and fire their primitive (albeit powerful) slugthrowers into the marauding Boomers to little effect. Dan glances at the giant figures battling in the bay and sighs. "Figures. Where are you when I need you?" Four figures in decidedly feminine hardsuits, one on a massive motorcycle, appear just as... > Once he was confident that the world had stopped screaming, >exploding, crashing, turning upside-down, and other such improper >things, Alex Rosewater stood up, slowly and carefully brushing >dull-edged shards of armorglass off his clothes. He could feel a >dozen small wounds in his exposed skin left unprotected by the soft >armor of his business suit, but did not touch them. He looked down at >Quincy, who still appeared to be rather shell-shocked. Rosewater >longed to rub salt into Quincy's own assorted wounds, but since the >other executive's ears were probably still ringing as badly as his >own, he was forced to settle for a disgusted "I told you so" >expression. > Quincy just blinked at him dumbly. The woman wearing the flight pack looks up and grins beneath her face plate at the sight. "Right on time. Open fire!" She orders. The motorcycle beneath the deadliest-looking of the women unfolds and takes form around her. It draws what looks like a machine pistol scaled to its size and starts firing, tearing Boomers apart. {Don't tell me you were _expecting_ that, Sylia!} the woman in the motorcycle snaps at the one in the flight-pack armor. {As you wish, Priscilla,} Sylia replies enigmatically. {We must deal with these Boomers quickly and advance to GENOM-Paradigm before Quincy or Rosewater recover.} {Roger!} the other two women reply, the one with glowing 'ribbons' trailing from her helmet wading in to fight hand-to-hand while the other hangs back, seeming to do nothing. Yet her 'nothing' may be having the most effect as enemy Boomers go haywire, attacking their own... "Hey, McNichols?" Dan asks. "Yeah?" "Do those suits of armor have high heels?" Leon chuckles. "Gotta love 'em." OOC note: These Knight Sabers are using the late 2033 designs from the end of the 1st BGC series. You can find the characters at: http://www.anime-int.com/works/bubblegum/crisis/char.html Mouse over the links for 'English' names. The armor designs at the very bottom of each lady's file are the current suits, except for Priss, whose new armor seems to be in the upper-right quadrant of her armor graphics section. > [Dammit, we have *got* to stop using an open channel,] Roger Smith >grouses to himself... just before a cold chill runs down his spine. > "HIT THE DECK!" > There's one link of the great mecha-worm passing directly between >Ramtron and Big O. Acting without conscious thought, the >MegaDeus/Domineus pair drive a shockwave punch against the outer >shell, with enough force to split a long, narrow crack in the outer >casing -- a crack just big enough for powerful iron fingers to >attack, grip, clamp... and HEAVE. Lotor considers his options. He truly does not want to abandon his erstwhile partner -- honor is all he has left. Except for Allura, and that is the deciding factor. Well, that and the Shield of Darkness is all but dead. He takes to the air, flying straight up with fantastic speed for a giant humanoid vehicle. Even then, a distressing amount of firepower hammers the faux Voltron as Ramtron spews insane amounts of death in a massive cone. Somehow, the Prince of Doom manages to parry the flying, murderous axe again while this is happening. Elsewhere. Under other circumstances, even the towering armored figure wouldn't stand a chance against what it faces. Teknoman Saber wields vast firepower, nigh-invincible armor, and a legendary blade, yet Saber faces Defender, a singular master of physical and mental energy. Unfortunately, Defender has just gone several rounds with Piccolo and Tetsuo, and those are just the prize fights. He's having a bad day. Saber makes it worse with a full energy-blast barrage. Cain laughs. "This is the great Defender? _You_ are the exemplar of puissance on this pitiful world?" "...can't have everything, pissant," Defender spits back. He forces himself to concentrate, and even in his badly battered state, Roland manages to turn most of the fire back on his attacker; alas, Cain is from the _competent_ end of Anime Villainy, and somehow reacts in time to deflect the counterattack with an unlikely high-speed spin of his saber. [Well. This is bad,] Roland thinks with an uncharacteristically prosaic attitude. {Now what do I...] His ESP goes off. Five alarms. Someone is about to die. People close to him. Family. [No. They. Are. Not.] An explosion of flame erupts around the hero in the shape of a phoenix. Cain takes the hint and backs off. Roland vanishes. > #Well, this is it. Bye, Yuri.# > #Bye, Kei. Love you.# > #Love you too, Y--# "Sorry, Angels, no time to explain," Roland rattles off with lightning speed, scooping up both women in his forcefield and vanishing as quickly as he arrived. >> The Phoenix wheels around quickly, if clumsily, while Dark >>Voltron braces itself for a fast dodge... > > For just a moment, as Ramtron fires, Big O brings the entire >mecha-worm to a dead stop, huge feet digging calf-deep into the bay's >bottom muck. The link gripped in the MegaDeus's great iron hands is >lifted out of the water, directly between Big O and Ramtron as >Zarkon's mech fires-- > --and a screaming, burning angel strikes the worm's remaining head >like something straight out of the Old Testament. When the conflagration subsides, Zarkon laughs. Briefly. "Three heroes with a single blow. I must commend ZoltARGH!" The Blazing Sword has just carved a massive L-shaped rent in Ramtron's chest. Dark Voltron lands several dozen yards away in a crouched coil, ready to spring again. He turns just as Ramtron catches the axe. "I am going to cut out what remains of your heart, boy, and eat it raw." Amazingly, Lotor _laughs._ "What is it that Earth prince said to _his_ king in this situation? Ah, yes... 'Come, Father. Let us embrace at last.'" A familiar crater near Tokyo Bay. Defender resolves back into existence, two women cradled in shimmering blue energy. Both are rather the worse for wear after re-entry, but still breathing. Roland breathes a sigh of relief himself. "You two may be more trouble than an army of cats, but you're my daughters-in-law -- I guess -- and I've lost all the family I'm going to in this war." Gently, he lowers them to the ground, brushing a stray lock of hair from Yuri's face with surprising gentleness. In spite of himself, he smiles. "I wonder how Ms. Waynewright is going to react to you two? And vice-versa, for that matter?" "What am I, chopped liver?" a mischievous voice calls from above. Roland looks up...and his jaw drops. A stunning, lithe blonde is gazing down at him with a self-satisfied grin. She also has impressive wings sprouting from her back. Roland tries to say something, but no words come out. "So, these are Roger's other two angels, eh?" Roland, reminded of an unintended quip of his own much earlier, groans in disbelief. [He even has the full set -- blonde, brunette and redhead.] The black armor reappears. "Are you finished running, Defender?" Cain laughs. "That does it," the Eternal snarls. While he knows this is probably not the wisest choice he has ever made, Defender has had enough -- Angel's jaw drops this time as he plows headlong into Teknoman Saber, fist connecting with bone-rattling satisfaction against Saber's face plate. -- Defender With apologies to Benjamin J. Grimm...It's Clobberin' Time! ===========================