March 25, 2015:

A day in the Centennial park in Metropolis goes south after some do-gooders help a lady regain her purse. Spoiler: Lunair gets yoinked.

Centennial Park - Metropolis

Established in 1860, the spanse known as Centennial Park is positioned in
the center of the New Troy island, the city's largest recreation area which
spans from Midtown all the way to Downtown and skirts the Suicide Slums.

Around the outskirts paths wind their way into the light mottling of trees
and flower beds, where the serenity and tranquility from the hustle and
bustle of the city can be left behind and slowly blocked from eyes and ears.
Open spaces allow for different activities with families as well as golfing,
small vendors set up booths to sell wares, snacks and every so often a stage
will go up to cater to a larger event that cuts through some of the

In another area there is a hedge maze, once extremely difficult, over the
years it has been sized down because of complaints of people getting lost in
its paths for days, if not more.

Cutting through the middle of the park is a twenty-eight million gallon
reservoir populated by forty-six thousand species of fish and open to
boating, while on the west side of the canal a few wooded acres are set
aside to cater to more privacy from the rest, also having trails for things
such as hiking and horseback riding.

Though, what tends to bring the visitors and sight seers to the brink of
this large park is the large monolithic statue of Superman, who oversees the
city of Metropolis as a whole and now calls it home.


NPCs: RAVAGE (Good robodoggy) , One exploded Night Creeper (currently pining for the fjords)


Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

Lunair is enjoying a wintery-spring afternoon, as the icy season slowly relinquishes its grasp on the world. She'd probably go nuts being cooped up in a safe house or spaceship at all times, really. So for now, Lunair is deciding to explore. Besides, it's Metropolis. The city so shiny that underpants on the outside is okay.

Lunair is deciding to check out some of the plants and that nifty cool hedge maze. But then, there's fishes there and a trail… Lunair has a backpack with her, and is wide-eyed, exploring. People are coming and going, nothing seems out of sorts. Even birds engage in rap battles as they are wont to do. Better stay away from my nest, homes. Why wait? Let's mate! The first few insects are peeking out shyly and life is coming back.

Back when he was a 17 year old partial meatbag prematurely taking college courses in engineering, Mike Drakos was pulled aside by his father one day, and given two pieces of advice. First, don't let work consume you, no matter what it is. Always keep at least one day in the week as the Sabbath, and use it as such. Second, don't wait until your firstborn is 16 to have your second child, because the firstborn will wear you OUT.

So Mike's been so busy — with legitimate things needing powers — that he missed three Sabbaths. Working Sundays. Tsk. And that means he took them all together. Today, he's in Metropolis, because he has relatively little business here to distract him, and he's wandering a hedge maze, with his GPS turned off.

Having a day mostly to himself for once, with Lian busy with her peeps, Roy was all too willing to do a little exploring. With forty-six thousand species of -fish-, Roy was entirely too willing to poke around at the sheer variety of it in the reservoir.

Which is how he ends up haggling with a boat rental place (What do you mean, no FISHING?! Can't I at least look at them with a net…? How do I even get to look at them…? That man over there's got a FISHING ROD…! Where're the boats with the clear bottom…?) and a consideration that maybe he -should- just ask Kori to come look at fishes next time…

Open spaces, not remote places. Lunair is known in HYDRA's databases, an old asset. One that should have been destroyed, at least says the red stamp on her digital file. Some things with HYDRA lately have caused distaste and a loss of interest, but one foothold of power can be sacrificed for another if all the pieces of the game of chess are laid right. Like the Black Queen.

Among those in the park enjoying the scenery of life stands a woman in a suit dress, a black pencil skirt hugging the curvature from just below the knees to the middle of her waist where it is cinched by red latticework laces along the sides, a blouse of black remains tucked in to show of the pristine and modified attire, obviously customized in the fit as well as the opening that forms a deep V over the heave of chest. A wide brimmed sun hat rests atop her head, no hair falling from beneath, neatly coiffed in place, the only thing showing is the flash of glasses in the sunlight as she stands near a fountain just brought back to life, a large purse hanging over one shoulder and resting just over the curvature of her hip.

Vintage in model, but it goes no further then clothing deep.

Enjoying the fresh air, a newness to it, a cleanliness, her chin tilts up and her pale facade basks in sunlight while eyes close - and then is when a man approaching slowly at first picks up the pace, a beanie crumpled on his head pulled down to mask his face before a casual pace tuened into a racing one as he grabs her purse and brandishes a gun, pivoting and pointing it at her before he tries to make retreat.

"My purse!" A shriek as netted gloved hands flail and point the armed and retreating mans way.

Lunair is a total meatbag. But she's fond of her metal friends. And this hedge maze is totally rad.

"Man, people used to get lost in here for DAYS?" She puts a hand to her forehead to shelter her eyes from the sun. She doesn't seem aware of Roy just yet. But her path takes her towards Mike, and everything seems pretty happy. She even takes a sip from her water bottle, peering here and there.

"Aw, that one's pretty."

Lunair would rather not be destroyed, if it's all the same to people. But then she hears a woman screaming and decides to bolt out of the hedge maze and see if she can stop or tackle the armed and retreating man. Where even IS he?

Ping: 0x58 41 52 4d 52 59 RU?

Mike looks up. There's a near-field signal within 500 yards that is coming from an X-Men communicator. (Yes, near-field is only supposed to work within 10 cm, but some robots have better radio reception than that.)

"Lunair?" Mike says to himself, looking up from the foliage he's been examining. And, yes, that seems to be her, trying to find a fast way out of the maze. It's in the direction she's running, so Mike decides to follow. Full-human emulation is running, so to follow he has to stand up, grab his pack, and run after her.

Playback: isolate, triangulate to identify location of female probable theft victim. Store sense information for police report, Mike says to his computer brain, which creates another copy of him to do that task. It takes about a third of a second.

Shaking his head and throwing his hands up at the notion that a) no fishing, b) no glass bottom boats, and c) feeding the fish was being regulated to prevent fat fishes and dirty reservoirs, Roy turns back, just in time to hear the shriek.

Thought becomes action, as Roy moves in position, the thief's path about to cross his. "Hey, you…!" And rather than wait for the thief to come to him, Roy will go to the thief and make a move to tackle him.

There are certain things that draw out heroes or good samaritans. This is one of them, and the finale should be the hat and suit adorned woman throwing her arm over her forehead and fainting at seeing a gun, but no, instead she is in heels and trying to go after the man, one hand atop her hat to keep the flopping brim in place. Talent is: Running in those ankle booted stiletto's.

The man is slowing and looking up and around, as others begin to close in and action is stirring amongst the denizens (some packing up and leaving), some staring, and the few giving him the look of debate while they puff up and back away. This pause is all it takes for Roy to meet him head on and tackle him, the purse whipping up and out of grip as his feet lift off the ground and his back becomes planted upon the parks earthen floor.

The woman is there, lowering to a crouch to reach gloved hand for her purse and look inside like she is hunting for any missing objects.

Lunair looks to Mike. "Hi Mike!" Wavewave. "I gotta see if that lady needs help-" Point and run.

To be fair, that is a pretty incredible talent. Lunair's ankles are screaming, pointing and clutching their pearls. Lunair jogs along, not quite as fast or close as Roy. "Wow, that was awesome. Are you okay, ma'am?" She looks to the woman now.

Mike is catching up — he was a bit more than a hundred yards away, after all — but he's also not running any faster than a normal human person could, so he's probably a good twenty-five yards away as Lunair reaches the woman. He diverts to run over to Roy, not expecting anything unusual.

Sabbath. A lovely concept. Resting. Not doing extraordinary things, though, frankly, not going so far as to not do ordinary things, because that becomes fetishizing the practice, which takes away from the whole 'honor God' thing, muses the otherwise unoccupied Mike-self that was spawned seconds ago.

"Do you need help? I have zip-ties. I can call the police…"

Flipping the thief to lie against the ground so that he can put his knee on the back, Roy nods at Mike. "Hey, yeah… a ziptie? Definitely." One hand reaches up, the other to secure his prisoner. "While you're at it, whose purse was this…?"

His head shifts just a bit, keeping an eye on the ground, as he looks for the woman whose purse had been taken…

The brim of the hat covers the womans face as she is looking down and perusing through her purse, one hand lifting with a low hiss to bring a fnger to her vitae huen lips, capturing the fabric between teeth and tugging the article of clothing from her hand, but what mesh his is slowly revealed…

A glove, mechanized, joints of steel and kevlar network over her own bone structure, claws enwrap the tips of fingers and in that metal networking of bone, laces veins running with a milky diluted blood hue towards those claws. Roy is front and center to this slow display, the hat rising with the upturning of her head, lips, nose, glasses framing sub-arctic blue eyes… That clawed hand comes up to place a single digit over those lips of anything but vestility.


The other hand that was in the rather large Gucci bag finalizes it's duty with a click and then a charge that sounds like the power up of an electrical accelerator. Which is /exactly/ what it is. The sleek black and silver prototype bearing the red effigy of a cobra head upon the muzzle. A glimpse before it is pointed at Lunair and Mike, the blue shocks centered around a glowing globe. The voice that comes forth is that of Russian accent. "I would like to thank you my heroes. But I have a need for only one of you."

And with that the man that is in threat of being zip tied is going from a snivelling theif to a formation that snaps his body into an obvious stance of training. Night Creeper tactics at their finest.

Lunair looks to Mike. And there's a Roy. She smiles at the two. There's a moment of quiet. That seemed easy enough.

And being in a good mood means she's totally off guard as the lady in an adorable outfit suddenly rolls out like an autobot or something. Waitaminute. She doubletakes, noticing only in time enough to see that there's a lady with a very cobra themed weapon (gotta give her points for sticking to theme, really). The world goes in slow motion for a moment, as her brain desperately tries to figure out wtf just happened since the thief is now a freaking ninja. "…" Her mouth opens, then closes. "Ummm… thankyoubutnothankyou." Armor up.

And the downside of Sabbath. Being as close to human as is reasonably possible, Mike's not carrying even his lightweight troubleshooting kit. He's never seen the Cobra (tm) Zap-venom (tm) gun before, so he's not sure how to neutralize or even defend against it without taking the time to scan it or see it in action.

"Why do you need any of us?" Mike demands.

Meanwhile, in the glowing virtual space that is his mind, second Mike begins digging through a file box that holds a rather large number of "themed weapon" images; the cobra in question is clearly identified as not HYDRA therefore it may be one of the four other known, extant serpent-themed vil-group insignia. Now is it COBRA, as in the mercenary team, or KOBRA, the genetic-engineering-fanatic cult that operates out of someplace near Afghanistan? Or the Serpent Society? Or Cobra Kai, that excessively rude martial arts chain that teaches bad habits to bullies?

"Well, you don't need to thank me…" Roy begins, before the finger moving to a shushing gesture stops him. Eyes shift towards the sub-arctic blue eyes, followed by a "Baroness…!"

The surprise is enough to get him to lose track of the thief, as the thief moves to a well-trained posture.

And trying to react quickly, Roy brings a fist forward to try and knock the Night Creeper back into the ground, leaving the Baroness to the others…

The masked man is at home in this, and his escape is all he needs to step away from Roy's attempt and close the distance in a swift snap that also is a response in kind of a side swept and open handed strike of the side of his hand into Roy's neck if he doesn't move. Right into a place where if the nerve is pinched, half his body will momentrily fall asleep…And not wake up.

Baroness smiles, Roy's dawn of realization and the sudden snap to of Mike and Lunair. The Prototype particle beam hand cannon now makes a sound that signifies the charge has leveled, and while that noise reaches its end Baroness is rising to a full stand. "It is called Debutante. That is how." She responds to Lunair a little late, but when she does that smile fades only on one half, leaving that smirk a lingering thing that narrows the eye staring over the barrel of the hand cannon.

"I hated those classes." She says and pulls the trigger of that weapon once her sight widens upon Lunair, not hesitating in doing such to then step back and strafe into a stance that that shift in posture, the clawed hand removing the hat and tossing it at Mike's face like a frisbee, hoping for a momentary veiling of his vision before she is strafing towards him in a manner that twists her upper body to back the blow of a clawed upper cut.

Lunair is now armored, at least. And Roy calling a name causes confusion.

"Wait, we're not going to get in trouble for hitting nobility?" Lunair is going to step back and away. That thing is charged. "Oh."

There's some sympathy, and now she's got to figure out what the hell to do without shooting one of her friends. For her part, shooting is going to be tricky. Shooting into melee is tough. But she's being shot at, and Lunair hasto throw herself to the side, to avoid the beam. BEAM.

Maybe a chain whip to grab at the weapon. But she's so bad at melee combat. SO BAD.

Hat Tricks? Frisbee hat tricks. Mike would applaud but there is no way he's going to let that hat hit him.

"Not my size, thanks." He is half-cartwheeling, half-rolling to the side and spinning back onto his feet, and Baroness' claw-hand uppercut lands on his throat as intended. It doesn't penetrate far. The flesh underneath the dermis is superficially human-like, but much denser and more solid than human, being a composite of carbon fiber, various metals, and water-silicate slurry. The apparent vulnerable throat and under-chin area is actually armored. As it lands, he's almost casually (it looks casual, it's just FAST) moving his right hand forward to feint a face-strike while actually intending to do a bagua throw, with a palm placed to the back of her head that will let him turn on one foot and toss her to the ground against the direction she has braced for her blow. Of course, there are counters, but they require giving up any grip on Mike's throat.

"Debutante? Classes? Aren't you old enough to be done with the traumas of your intro to society?" He's actually wondering where that came from. She isn't going to explain why she wants one of them, or which one, but … uh oh. Where is that GUN pointed?

Trying to move in, it takes Roy a second to realize that the side-sweep is intended to give the Night Creeper room to move for a strike. Unable to move quickly enough, Roy instead twists, bringing his shoulder up to try and deflect the blow enough that…

Wincing, Roy pulls back quickly, shaking his arm as though it was going dead. No way. No… damn way.

Screw it. He wasn't going to play fair, and if he kept it really close…

Going in for another punch, Roy shortens it, switching to moving his tingling arm in close and keeping his good arm free for an elbow to the head as hard as possible. Out of the corner of his eyes…

"Lunair…! Wide -array- gun of… SOMETHING!"

Taskmaster in Metropolis? Yes. He has been meaning to reconnect with the Baroness and public would be the best choice, though, a simple chit chat that could result in questioned loyalties and bloodshed is generally ill advised, especially in public. Perhaps not the best laid plan one could conjure up. As such he is of course geared. And from afar (other side of the park) he is watching the engagement through the optical lenses of his mask.

"Well shit." A metallic inflected voice curses. "I was misinformed. That weasel-faced Monev… " Taskmaster will watch while he keys in to the Cobra communication bands; he is still in the system and hasn't openly been declared a traitor yet? Maybe.

The Creeper against Roy is deliberate in his movements. One blow landed and he is not trying to back off, nowhere near out of arms reach. That would ruin the flow and momentum that he picks up once Roy is feeling the numbness set in on one blow, now his other hand rises to do the same to Roy's opposing side, a leg kicking up to snap into abdomen but with the way Roy maneuvered the knee lands upon his suffering limb, blocking the attempt to take his breath away..

Lunair's dodge does not make Baroness relent, the extension of chain whip that twines around her wrist also does not make for hesitation, jerking inward to drag Lunair closer she fires again, and that particle beam aims for the chain and rips upward back towards Lunair, seeking to follow the lead to the handler.

All Baroness wanted was that swift blow on Mike, with the chains jerk back she is also parrying, ripping those claws free and extending one chain laden hand, the other clawed hand to the side as if bowing to an audience for an audition and applause, that coiffed hair spilling down around her facade smiling in a shark like manner.

The landing of the upper cut upon Mike has those claws tipped in openings much like a serpents fangs releasing a test virus. The CC-CV1, though how much it does to Mike is unknown due to his physiology, but he can feel that release of nanites pulse from the venomous veins, dwindling a typical humans strength, as well as mental will. what thousands of machines due and relay to a machine… We shall find out.

Taskmaster's hailing call beeps through though and her face controrts in a rage and then settles into a placidity that resembles a calm before a storm.

It's a universal truth, it seems. No matter what one's faction is, calls always happen at the most awkward possible times. Lunair is - now being pulled in, which really shouldn't shock her. This woman is totally badass with a capital B. She'd have more time to be impressed if she weren't getting jerked to get dragged closer. She's worried about her friends, but she has to set it aside to fight. And she is a formidable fighter for her age, but dealing with an enemy who has truckloads more experience and also has her pal in an uppercut, well.

Shooting is tricky. Roy's words make her look confused, but not long. Her chain has a beam tear through it and Lunair lands on her backside. At least she's not taking Baroness' beam to the face. No one likes beams to the face. Maybe the dubstep gun then. Dance!

And this is why Mike is not fighting "properly" — the chains. They make it messy. Well, that, and his processor is spending many more cycles making him move and appear "human" than he normally bothers with. This had him reduced to a single aux-self process. But when his blood (which consists of nanites of his own design) reports the presence of a significant dose of a weaponized nanite swarm capable of damaging humans, the suppress turns off as his body sequesters and isolates the newcomers, each getting its own Faraday-cage-prison and nano-frog-march into a holding tank elsewhere in his body. He can examine it later when he isn't dealing with someone who is clearly better than his teacher was. Then again, he himself is better than his teacher was, now that his reflexes are coded not trained. But his teacher would be very, very annoyed at him anyway.

Meanwhile, his neck looks messy, with fake blood dripping, but that's because the integument is a passive process. Alarming, annoying to clean up, but it will slowly but visibly heal even if he doesn't pay attention.

"Fine," Mike says. Her parry gives him something to strike against, and he does, with five strikes aimed at limb-deadening pressure points, two of which are leg-points. Parrying them will hurt, dodging them will work, interposing Lunair will make the robot mad.

Communication device detected. Recommend hijack… WARNING: Neurosonic weapon activating proximate. Neural randomizers engaged.

And, Mike takes a 20 percent hit to his speed/precision, bringing him down from impossible to blinding. Because he doesn't want to dance.

Ugh… that sucked. The numbness was going to get worse if he didn't take control of the situation. Pushing back, Roy tries to change up the equation, foot going to the purse, and flipping it up into the air. If she'd left it unzipped enough, then he could turn something into a weapon… namely by jumping up and kicking whatever was the most available inside that purse into the Night Creeper.

"Why not." Taskmaster talks to himself while a deflex-reflex profile composite bow is drawn, aimed and in a traditional Chinese thumb draw style he lets loose an arrow. That same arrow whistles through the air with enough impact to punch through a car door. It's target: Drakos. Fortunately it's aimed center mass and a little high. Above heart but below throat. The skull-masked merc isn' there to kill and really unaware of what the X-Man is capable of or not. A normal human being would definitely be incapacitating and painful. Someone like Mike? Well, that has yet to be seen.
"Kanteki? No… at least Toteki." A game. Perhaps only one he would understand himself. He can smell pork dumplings and hear a song about Superman. Odd memory connects but it makes the Photographic Reflex gift synchronize more seamlessly.

Close quarters is generally not the Baroness' schtick but she's got some talent. The man can give her that much, her Samozashchita Bez Oruzhiya her best in regards to that particular arena.

The first arrow loosed and the Taskmaster is already drawing another. Lunair? That one has a price on her head? One thing at a time. Roy boy should appreciate the archery display at the very least. Even if it is going to be aimed at him very soon.

Roy's kick of the purse gets him a compact. Yes, the one you powder your nose with, but this one sticks to the Creeper and begins to suddenly flash. The expensive looking cosmetic suddenly flickering and beeping from slow to irratic. The Creeper knows this much. Checkmate. But he also knows the stance Mike carries and his position on Baroness, lunging himself between her and him, shoving her aside, accepting the paralytic blows in a kamikaze fashion because well… "Baroness!"

*BOOM!* The Creeper explodes and the visceral remains scatter (what is not vaped), even lifting bits of the parks sod to litter the area with, and concussively sending out a wave of EMP.

The shove sent Baroness back and the explosion contained to a 10 foot radius blows her back further, her body rolling to stop with that clawed hand pushing against the ground, langing upon the massive paw that makes her own metallic weapon appear petite. RAVAGE stood there, the response to her whistle having the mechanical beast now lowering into a stalking position over her fallen figure, that barbed tail lashing back and forth opening like a flytrap of reinforced alloy curling like a scorpions over the mounted gauss canon that fires in response to Lunair's DUBstep firing. A mechanical howl ripping from the razored jaws of the canine while its head whips back and forth to capture and zero in on the face of each person present.

Wubs for all! It's like Oprah, but with more twerking. Or something. Lunair is massively terrible at melee combat. And she might have a comment on a Creeper exploding, but the world is spinning as she gets knocked back. "Metal!" She calls out to her robofriend. Then, there's a freaking gauss cannon. She's just going to scamper and hunker down. "Save yourself! I'll run-" It seems the smart thing to do. She doesn't want to see either of them hurt further. Not really. But now is the time for scampering. Though, if either of them need help escaping, Lunair is hardly one to abandon a companion.

And by scampering, we mean flopping Magikarp style.

Back in the virtual head-space, while Primary Mike is concentrating on moving and targeting and trying to get to where he can protect Lunaire, Secondary Mike has just finished processing "Baroness" through his database. It will take more than five minutes for the wireless link search to come back with the Interpol records, but Mike is now cognizant that the name is in the list of Interpol persons of interest as of last index sync. Hooray for computer minds, still limited by the speed of servers!

Tertiary Mike, the part that is no longer spending so much of his cycle time making every tiny movement look perfectly human, is now trying to examine these new and interesting nanomachines that the Baroness gifted him with.

Primary Mike is about to strike when … KABOOM! He's EMP screened, of course, but it knocks his radio off-lline, which annoys the heck out of Secondary Mike. He rolls to his feet and … Someone has gifted him with metal! Fast-moving metal, oh, that's an attack! That would be really inconvenient if it were made of something other than metal. Taskmaster's arrow strikes! And (with a visible ripple-bloop) it melts into his body, leaving him moving at completely normal-human speeds for 50 milliseconds while he takes it apart. His focus is now on the mechanical canine. It's training sensors on him; he objects to that. Inside his body, Tertiary Mike pulls together the 'hostile takeover' defense - a nanite and hardware device made of some of his internal spares, that he can deploy using, oh, that arrow he was just given as raw materials.

The trouble is, it takes four point six seconds to construct it. Plenty of time for Baroness to, say, engage a teleport device or something. Still, he flings the small sphere and it sticks to the RAVAGE machine.

"Kanteki? Jackass metahuman ruined the game." Taskmaster continues with the thumb draw then pauses, the explosion destroys his visual in a blue on white concussive pulse to boom. Colorful but it looks like Mike Drakos is fixated on RAVAGE now. That beasty is enough to tangle with just about anything but this is an undocumented superhuman and not something the Baroness anticipated no doubt or she would have counter-measures in play. She is supposed to be an Intelligence / Spy style Bond villainess in a world that is beyond the scope of 007's wildest dreams.

Thumb-draw switched to three finger to keep a steadier aim on the heavier projectile, insult to injury, a wounded Arsenal is no use to the Taskmaster and the Lady Snake has to be enacting some devious plan. More brainwashing people? Could be. Whatever. A flat-headed arrow is notched, blunted and special just for Mr.Harper.
"Nighty nite, Red." Fingers lift and off sails the flying hammer. It's not exactly fast and it requires some angling to make sure it hits it's mark but Taskmaster has watched some of the best trick-shotting marksmen in the world.

Less than a second later Roy Harper faceplants with a square impacted into the side of his head. Not mortal, not even brain-damaging, but man will he have a serious headache when he wakes up.

"This is Taskmaster, I suggest you do what you're doing and get out. We don't fight supers unless we know what they are capable of… you're breaking your own rules, Baroness, you miss me that much that you'd get sloppy?" A jab. He's feeling spry and satisfied with the Red Archer X.x'd out. Very satisfied.
"I do suggest a retreat. Post-haste."

Oh she did not expect this, but Baroness is not surprised either. That clawed hand reaches up and grips RAVAGES undercarriage, the beasts body rolling and rotating, the gauss rifle snapping underneath as she is rolled onto its back. Scrolling over the lenses of her glasses, digitalized data alerts her of the attempted hijacking as well as that of the Taskmaster's transmission.

"Poshel na khuy, Task." A curse in Russian through venomous teeth stained pink from the landing and swelling lip.

Data for RAVAGE is rolled back, a default program of what they had once done before uploaded while the rest shuts down to stop any infiltration and override because it is all locked now into a separate database of uploaded content non-running save to inject a purpose and be gone. RAVAGE's eyes cross-hair on the backpedalling and flopping Lunair, and as he had once done to Domino he charges her with Baroness on his back this time, though Baroness now reaches down and detaches the mounting saddle, sliding to ride literally on the opposing side of Ravage, manually aiming the gauss rifle on the other side and firing it at Mike in passing, if not hitting him with the blasts it is punching large holes into the park that send large bits of earth and stone like shrapnel.

When RAVAGE reaches Lunair it attempts to scoop her up in its large mechanized jaws, unlike its prior prey this one bore metal skin and instead of sinking debilitating fangs into her to paralyze her from struggle, like a great metal puppy it shakes it head fiercely. Shaking the hell out of the meat in a can.

Lunair's eyes go wide. Did Roy just get owned by an arrow? Is that ironic or unfortunate? Both? At least she's not the one faceplanting into mother earth due to a Taskmaster related projectile. This time, at any rate. "Metal! Look ou—- NICE DOGGY." Uh oh.

Unfortunately, for better or worse, Lunair has the proportionate strength, speed and agility of a well trained teenage girl of the human variety. Do robodoggies respond to commands? She's not sure. She just about gets to her feet and gets grabbed by doggy jaw. Then she gets shaken like a paint can or a Polaroid. Shakeshakeshake, CLONK. It's enough to bonk her head and send her into dreamland. Well, at least it wasn't a shield this time. She's limp like overdone noodles.

Crafty Baroness! The small metal sphere latched onto the RAVAGE nicely and invaded quickly, nanites doing their link tricks, but before he can engage his technomantic power to move his presence into the thing for a proper takeover, she activates internal shifty things that make it stop being compliant, and shoots him … with many extremely fast-moving pieces of metal that require him to keep his mind firmly in his own chassis. Dammit! Stupid gauss guns!

Mind, all that metal being shot at him from short enough range that he can't dodge cleanly (lest he endanger others) does indeed knock him back because he's not actually in one of his combat chassis. It's rather splashy, like the way that the liquid-metal terminator goes SPLUT when it gets shot. And it flows back into human shape moments later, taking the little metal rods with it, in very similar style.

"LUNA! NO!" Mike yells, as she goes limp, but he's still impaled and not recovered yet… but fine. Three of the little metal rods float into the air from his body in a way reminiscent of Magneto when he's become annoyed with paparazzi, and laser-dot targeting sensors start marking Baroness. Kid Gloves Mode set to OFF.

New game initiated - run away from the unknown meta (Mike Drakos) and pause long enough before retreat to heckle Roy Harper. Shit. How do you taunt someone who is slobbering in to Centennial Park concrete dreaming of Baymaxs and Vocaloids (or whatever, Taskmaster is out of touch)? Waking up to that meat tenderizer of an arrow laying next to him should be more than enough of a jeer. It's also not like Taskmaster announced his presence so Arsenal probably didn't even see it coming.

"I guess I'll save the fun stuff for April Fools." The bow has proven to be useless against Drakos and the Baroness is already retreating atop the robot monster-dog/cat with package in hand. The woman? Why? The money shouldn't be a concern for Ana. Oh right, wasn't there some personal drama there and the Snake Lady is a vindictive bitch? Maybe that is it.

"Shoot more or… " The Taskmaster weighs his options and watches as Mike projects some sort of drones? "Fuck it. We shoot more."

Half-humming and half-singing to himself Contingency T takes aim and fires a volley of explosive arrows at Drakos and his metal expelling self.
"Brass monkey, that funky monkey, brass monkey junkie, that funky… "


Suppressing Fire. Covering Fire. It's a blanket of snap-crackling-explosive arrows. Hopefully Mike realizes these could be dangerous to the fallen Roy Harper and takes the correct actions. It's what heroes do right? Otherwise Roy won't live to wake up and suffer the Taskmaster's dastardly ridicule.

Primary Mike (the one who controls the "metal-bending" powers) is preparing to knock out the dog — those targeting lasers are distractions to get Baroness worried about her own skin — while Tertiary Mike (the one running body systems) is using what remains of tech-bend and his nanosystems to repair his body. This leaves Secondary Mike (the one running the fancy sensors, of which this body has far fewer than in his usual 'carry') to notice. That arrow came from someone. That means Baroness has backup and … oops. The fighty guy with the red hair is down. There's an arrow with a truly clumsy arrowhead on it, next to his hopefully unconscious self. And there is a smaller version of the arrow-rain from House of Flying Daggers coming in and each of them pings as having something BAD on board. Secondary Mike yells internally.

INTERRUPT — Incoming catastrophe!

Primary Mike flings the rods at the Baroness, but not with anything even close to his potential force. They're probably no harder than a fast ball. He tells Secondary Mike, "tag that bot" and then turns his attention to that wave of incoming.

Signal received, the small blob of invading nano in RAVAGE moves itself around, spreading out to hide in various places. In five hours, it will pull itself together again and construct into a beacon that gives off a signal Mike (and other technomancers) can find, but few others would be able to detect.

The missiles, arrows, flechettes, etc., all redirect in midair, and Mike attempts to consume as many as he can … he won't get all of them, but he can absorb most of the kabooms. But he can't save Lunair, this time. And he has to explain that to Scott and to Berto.

Taskmaster makes sure the Baroness is evac'd herself and then as quickly as he had Ninja'd in, he Ninja's back out. No smoke bombs necessary as the Metal Bender is occupied playing PacMan with his eArrows.

Today the bad guys get away with it.

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