Gods Among Us (IC|Superhero|Open)

[Union Princes]

William Brookes

Noticing that no one seemed interested in his whisky, William refilled his cup but took its time savoring it, slowly drinking it as he examined the group that gathered around his table. Imogen was definitely the most normal out of them, even if her magic was clearly particular to her, something that got his interest. Very few times he met someone with a particularity like that, and most of the times, it was a huge sign of trouble.

"Nothing special about my magic. But... I do appreciate not having to explain every thing I do or every spell I cast to the ones around me. And I am very curious by your perspective, Imogen. Next thing you'll say is that somewhere in another universe we formed a magical wonder team? Won't say it is impossible, but... well, let us all focus in what is around us now.

So, how did you gents and lady joined TIAMA?"

Holiday

---

Maria looked up from her plate of Mcdonalds and fries in reaction to his question. She quickly downed a bottle of whiskey in such ferocity that both her fathers would look on disgust that she was drinking American alcohol. The smears on her cheek and the belch were very unbecoming of her professionalism.

"Ello, William!," Maria called over as she waved from where she was sitting, "I heard about your question. I joined TIAMA since my adoptive father wanted me to stop living in his hospital. He said I was too young to share the workspace with him."

[Cybernetic Socialist Republics]

John Farrow/Emma Greenwood

John smiled he was happy to see Matthew again. John helped himself to more drinks and food. While eating he couldn’t help but overhear a conversation which was something about teaming up and getting to know other members of TIAMA. This conversation got him interested so he pulled up a chair and got a bit closer to the conversation. “Hey, Sorry for interrupting, but may i join? I’m John. John Farrow. I’m also known as the Zookeeper courtesy of Matthew coming up with the alias. Nice to meet you all.”

Amalure noticed John making his way towards the group, with Vemon, who had been with him, peeling off in the direction of the bathroom. Then he pulled up a chair and asked about joining the conversation.

“Sure, nice to see you again.” said Amalure, quickly making sure not to interrupt the conversation

"Well... yes," Rachel began, trying to find the words that she wanted to say. "I'd tentatively agree with that... however, we should acknowledge that there's some here who are in disagreement in regards to the way in which people go about being a hero. And I think that's one of the more dangerous things, if we can't agree on methodology, we won't be very coherent, like Amalure said." Rachel took a breath, before going on. "Right now, TIAMA has little infrastructure in place in terms of rules of engagement or codes of conduct. I don't think I can even recall anyone ever getting disciplined or talked to. That'd be fine if we were all agreed on how to go about things, but we don't. Some are fine with killing villains, and some are even fine with civilian casualties. I even know that TIAMA has a number of vigilante associates... and trust me, having come from that life, things can get a lot messier there than with a team of metahumans."

Amalure appreciated that Silver Surfer went into more details regarding what she meant about rules of engagement. It Was true, some heroes had no issues with killing and others outright refused to. Some avoided civilian casualties at all costs, while others would willing allow them in the name of saving more. The issue was that these were type of decisions that could be rationally codified to some extent, for example, killing a villain known to be a killer might be acceptable if only in the name of the security of the heroes facing them. In a no-win scenario in which civilian casualties are inevitable, actively causing some to save a greater total of lives is well within the realm of morality, exemplified in the popular trolley problem. As it stood, however. Those types of decisions were more or less purely a matter of personal preference rather than rationality.

"What Amalure's suggesting is that we find smaller teams to work in, which might be something we could do. But I don't think that we have to resort to that quite yet - I feel as if that could be ultimately reserved for if we ultimately can't find a way to have all of us work together in the same capacities and codes of conduct. Jack, what I'm most concerned about is the gap between everybody's ideas in terms of fighting villains, and the extents that people are willing to go to in order to ensure victory."

Rachel swallowed, adjusting herself in the chair slightly, leaning closer to the trio of heroes who were in the conversation. "Honestly, a good example would be the Patriot. He sort of creeps me out, to be honest. I'd be willing to wager good money on the fact that he would be more than willing to kill civilians, let alone a villain, if they got in the way of his mission. That's the exact sort of thing that I'd find reprehensible and to be avoided at all costs - if he starts to do something like that on a mission, well, it's possible that someone from TIAMA would try and stop him, and even if that doesn't devolve into a hero-on-hero fight right there, it'd make us look bad to the public and give the villain the potential to get away. I don't want that and I don't think anyone else would, right?"

Amalure didn't exactly mean that they needed to completely break off into smaller teams, but the reality is, in any given area, only so many heroes could manage to function alongside each other. It was important to know before hand who worked best alongside who, the last you wanted is to heros unable to use the extent of their powers due to them interfering with another's. But that was too minor to bother interrupting with.

Jack Dredd

Patriot... the name didn't click with him, but he wasn't exactly a scholar of heroes. If he was willing to kill civilians, probably not the nicest dude, but then, heroes weren't always nice. Probably.

"Oh, yeah, maybe keep normal people out of the line of fire, if we can. Yeah, we should probably set some, like, boundaries, of some sort. I mean, if we can get everyone to listen. If their willing to kill, I doubt there's much we can say to stop them."

"There's actually a lot we can do about heroes that refuse to follow along the boundaries we agree upon. At the mildest end, we can simply refuse to coordinate with them or aid them on missions if they refuse to act within said boundaries." said Amalure. On the harsher end, Amalure thought, with some measure of glee, delivering them a good ass kicking to keep them in line, might prove healthy as well.

"Then of course there's always the additional tactic of similarly punishing those who refuse to go along with punishing boundary breakers. We're powerful heroes, surely we can find creative ways of keeping each other within acceptable boundaries.

[Europa Undivided]

The Insurgent

Nicholas and Marcus both stopped right in front of the Lucky Strike establishment, looking at its neon lights and the clear glass that betrayed the presence of unconventionally dressed heroes of TIAMA. Nicholas, who quite literally towered over Marcus, winked. "So who will foot the bill?"

Marcus sighed. "Ugh. It's always me right? I owe you this one."

Nicholas smiled at Marcus and patted his head, much to the other's chagrin. "That will be one game for every time I save your ass from destruction."

The shorter man sighed yet again and pulled out his wallet (in public, no less). "I'll see how much I have in here... if I don't, I'll have to withdraw from the bank." He proceeded to open his wallet even though Nicholas stared daggers at him for doing that in a public space.

"Hey, what did I tell you about-"

"Oh look.", Marcus smirked as he pulled out no less than $50 from his fat wallet. "I've got 50 bucks.", he said as he audaciously flapped the stack of cash that he held in his hand.

Unfortunately for him, a young man wearing a grey hoodie snatched the money that he was holding up so proudly; he was quick like an eagle. By the time Marcus realized that his dollar bills were gone, the snatcher was already running towards the alleyways and was already too far to be chased down by running.

Marcus shouted in frustration as he found his money yet again in mortal danger. "COME ON!"

"Rich people problems.", Nicholas said as he put on his shades. He then spoke to his AI assistant, A.I.D.A.. "AIDA, we have a snatcher on the loose.". he said as he put his hands into his pockets. "Get Batski and Robyev to enact nonlethal interception."

"Okay boss.", the AI answered as the rush of quadcopter blades filled the air. The snatcher, who had been looking back quite a lot to see if he was being chased, didn't really see what was coming: a 2 feet long and 1 feet wide flying drone with a steel hull hard enough to incapacitate a person that was running towards it in full speed. As such, he hit his face on the drone that positioned itself to intercept, throwing him backwards on the hard pavement. He was dazed, but not dead.

"You should've asked nicely.", Marcus said as he leaned over the stunned snatcher. "I would've given you double the amount you just snatched."

"Or maybe look for a damn job.", Nicholas snorted as the two drones floated behind him before flying off to who knows where. "So you were saying?"

Marcus scratched his head. "You know that one hero that wears the stripes of red, white, and blue?"

"You mean the one with America's ass?"

"Uh... yeah...? Well, that one is my favorite... well, other than you, of course."

"Sweet.", the Insurgent nodded. "So how about we go in now before another snatcher grabs your money?"

---

The Insurgent
Lucky Strike Premises

"Hey guys.", the Insurgent said to no one in particular as he entered Lucky Strike along with Marcus. "You with TIAMA? Because my friend here is a huge fan..."

[Remnants of Exilvania]

New York City
Lucky Strike Manhattan
Hans

His hand felt pretty numb by the time Hans found and removed the last mirror shard from it. But that was what happened if you kept pouring cold water over a hand for way over 5 minutes. But hey, it helped to numb the pain and washed away all the damned blood that kept pouring out of the cuts he had suffered from his ill thought out mirror punching. Throwing the last shard into the trash bin and turning off the running water, Hans was faced with the problem that he was still bleeding like crazy. Looking around he found that there wasn't really much to stem the bleeding with...except paper towels...

By the time Hans had managed to create a tight gauntlet out of the paper towels it was already half soaked and made his hand look like a bowling ball itself. Not to mention that he had practically used up all of those damned paper towels now. Perhaps it was time for that healing blood? He could approach the doctor and ask her to fix his hand again real quick, maybe get to talk with her and...uh...clear some problems that could arise before they would become problems.

He looked again at the shattered mirror, contemplating. Didn't a broken mirror mean bad luck or something? Had he already gotten his bad luck, with his hand bleeding like a pig? Or was it yet to come, perhaps if he was to approach the german girl? Ah, no, surely whatever bad could've happened had happened rightaway. As if to support that thought, he tried moving the fingers of his bandaged bowling ball of a hand, only to find that it was quite impossible to do so. Yes, he most certainly had everything bad that could've happened happen to him. It was time to go and get that hand fixed again.

As he exited the lavatory again he noticed two things. One being that apparently he had spent so much time in there trying to get his hand fixed up again that the bowling center had already closed, the other customers having already left. The other that right where he came out, there was still a lone man sitting and tapping away with his phone. Now, anyone with a few braincells left probably would've counted 1 and 1 together and surmised that this person was potentially, possibly up to no good. Or you could be Hans and assume this was another TIAMA hero. Just one of the shy sort who liked to check out his colleagues from afar before or rather than fraternizing with them.

Which of course meant that Hans needed to come up behind him and pat him on the back, introducing himself with:

"Hi there, I'm Hans! Do you need someone to bowl with?"

[Cybernetic Socialist Republics]

As Amalure participated in the conversation, she realized that the time in which the other customers had to leave the lucky strike had come and went. Now, she could put on her costume without worrying about being swarmed by civillians asking for a selfie or gawking. If she was going to get to know her fellow heroes, they also had to be able to immediatrly recognize her in her costume and there were quite of few heroes she was conversing with that had yet to see her in it,

"Excuse me, I'll be back soon." Amalure said to the group she was speaking to.

She got up from her chair and headed off to grab her gym bag, which contained her costume and her sword, before heading off to find a change room.

[Central Crew]

Matthew Octave

William Brookes

"Nothing special about my magic. But... I do appreciate not having to explain every thing I do or every spell I cast to the ones around me. And I am very curious by your perspective, Imogen. Next thing you'll say is that somewhere in another universe we formed a magical wonder team? Won't say it is impossible, but... well, let us all focus in what is around us now.

So, how did you gents and lady joined TIAMA?"

"Funny how you say that. Why yes, we do form an incredible magical wonder team in an infinite number of universes after all!" Matthew scratched his chin. "I wonder if we'll find ourselves someday. That would be quite the interesting experience."

"And well, me joining TIAMA is a loooong story. The basics is that they gave me a place to stay in return from me helping them catch villains internationally. Lately they had me stay here in the US. I guess that my assistance is more important here."

Matthew sat down and opened The Book looking at the group. "I think that It's the famous 'story time'. What do you wish to hear? Me and TIAMA or alt-universe us. Both are very exiting in their own right I must say. So if you could do me the pleasure of choosing one... because I'm dying to tell a good story."

[Lessoni]

Jack Dredd

As Amalure walked away, Jack turned to Rachel, suddenly acutely aware he was alone at a table with a pretty girl. He quickly reminded himself that odds were she could kill him 9 different ways before he could even blink. That was a nice glass of water to the face in terms of his awkwardness.

"So, uh... what kinda powers you got? I teleport b-but it's not really... the normal way. It's like- it's hard to explain, honestly. Long story short, I teleport."

He thought treating her like a coworker would help avoid his usual awkwardness with pretty much everyone. Apparently, it did not.

[Dyelli Beybi]

Matthew Octave

William Brookes

"Nothing special about my magic. But... I do appreciate not having to explain every thing I do or every spell I cast to the ones around me. And I am very curious by your perspective, Imogen. Next thing you'll say is that somewhere in another universe we formed a magical wonder team? Won't say it is impossible, but... well, let us all focus in what is around us now.

So, how did you gents and lady joined TIAMA?"

"Funny how you say that. Why yes, we do form an incredible magical wonder team in an infinite number of universes after all!" Matthew scratched his chin. "I wonder if we'll find ourselves someday. That would be quite the interesting experience."

"And well, me joining TIAMA is a loooong story. The basics is that they gave me a place to stay in return from me helping them catch villains internationally. Lately they had me stay here in the US. I guess that my assistance is more important here."

Matthew sat down and opened The Book looking at the group. "I think that It's the famous 'story time'. What do you wish to hear? Me and TIAMA or alt-universe us. Both are very exiting in their own right I must say. So if you could do me the pleasure of choosing one... because I'm dying to tell a good story."

"And yet sadly I don't remember them," the comment drew a very slight smirk from Imogen. She didn't deign to explain what she meant though, instead skipping straight to the second part of Brooke's question, "How did I join TIAMA? Well I ended up with powers, much to my chagrin, and I figured I should probably do something responsible with them. I decided the most responsible thing to do was to use them to try to keep people safe, so I figured getting a sponsorship from TIAMA would allow me to do that with the added bonus of not ending up in prison. I never anticipated getting pulled into anything like that Federal Reserve job.; stopping muggers is much more my style."

"Having said that, I get the impression from our last mission though that my aspirational goals might be in a minority. I have the sneaking suspicion this might be an outlet for some people to pursue my unsavoury hobbies while remaining above the law they pretend to protect," she shrugged as if that were a minor inconvenience, "If it turns out I was wrong about TIAMA, well... we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, but for now I am with the team."

[Cybernetic Socialist Republics]

Unfortunately, the lucky strike didn't have a change room, so she had to change in the washroom instead. What was lucky, (though Amalure was no means insecure, this was more on behalf of anyone who walked in on her.) was that she was able to change into her costume alone, without interruption.

She stood in front of the woman's room mirror. First she put on her bright red specially made laced combat boots and red-blue stripped pleated skirt. Next she put on her skin tight white top with red and blue linings, then came her blue cape, covered in the 50 white stars of the american flag. She did her hair in a basic bun at the back of her head. Penultimately, she put on her red weighted combat gloves. After she did, she sniffed the knuckles on both, one by one. After registering a very faint smell of blood on both, she gave a small, closed mouth smile in the mirror.

Lastly, she took out her A.I. sword of alien origin, Aethelind, from her gym bag and sheathed it.

Ophiuchia, having successfully changed into her costume, made her way out of the washroom back to where she had been having her conversation with the other group of heroes.

[Transoxthraxia]

Jack Dredd

As Amalure walked away, Jack turned to Rachel, suddenly acutely aware he was alone at a table with a pretty girl. He quickly reminded himself that odds were she could kill him 9 different ways before he could even blink. That was a nice glass of water to the face in terms of his awkwardness.

"So, uh... what kinda powers you got? I teleport b-but it's not really... the normal way. It's like- it's hard to explain, honestly. Long story short, I teleport."

He thought treating her like a coworker would help avoid his usual awkwardness with pretty much everyone. Apparently, it did not.

Watching Amalure walk away, Rachel couldn't help but notice her sheer size. Amazed, she was distracted from what Jack was saying.

"Hrm?" She asked, absent-mindedly. "Oh, uh, that's cool. I don't really know much about teleportation. So, I mean, to me, whatever you do is probably the 'normal way'". She smiled and chuckled a little bit. "I'm, ah..." She had to think - no one had really ever asked her to describe her powers before. At least, not unofficially. She was used to all of the TIAMA probes into her background and abilities, but it was always scientific jumbo. "It's a little hard to say, I suppose. I'm fast, but not like Synapse. Nimble, claws and stuff. You could probably punch me, like, a hundred times in my face and I wouldn't feel it. But -" she said, jokingly gesturing Jack to stop before he moved, "only when my suit's on. I guess if we ever go on some mission together you'll see it!" She said encouragingly.

"How'd you find yourself a part of TIAMA?" She then asked.

[Endem]

Chris Digel

"What boundaries are you talking about, because if you'll try to force me to switching to rubber bullets or not shooting the villain I'll be packing my bags" Chris commented on what he heard so far, true, he may have wondered off halfway through to get a slice of pizza, but the thing about boundaries really concerned him, as he mostly joined TIAMA because they offered the chance to shoot the bad guys legally, and get paid at that, if that suddenly changed Chris would have no second thoughts about quitting the job and going vigilante again.

Then Opiuchia came back, now wearing her suit, a little over the top perhaps, the cape really reminded him of Patriot, and anything that reminded him of that a*hole was already felt more sour than before, "I didn't think it was a formal party" he commented, as he took yet another sip of Heineken.

[Anowa]

The fact that he happened to go out on a bowl with Shannon on the axact same alley and time as half of the local TIAMA chapter was such an ungodly coincidence, one James Washington could hardly believe it. he'd spent maybe the last 10 to 20 minutes relaying info to both Shannon and Alexander, descriptions of those present, powers being discussed, it was a fucking goldmine. Alexander had masqueraded as an Intern and he managed to get some info, but he could only get so much, no addresses, or personal stuff like names or relatives. To say what the folks here were doing was moronic would be a slight understatement. Especially since one of them seemed to come straight out of the 'Loose lips sink ships' period.

"Hi there, I'm Hans! Do you need someone to bowl with?"

Washington's thumb immediately tapped 66 into a message and sent it to Shannon, before turning off.

Now was the issue at hand. There was no way he'd be able to reliably take the group of heroes on in a protracted engagement. And as much as he utterly despised some of them, namely the more lethally oriented, he wasn't to kill them. TIAMA had proven to be a more useful tool, and if Osteo's plan to shift the US back to a land of liberty and freedom, having them dead would be... troublesome. Although while Osteo absolutely refused to kill anyone, period, Revenant subscribed to no such niceties, if push came to shove, he'd be more than willing to slam a few bullets into someone's skull.

Washington stood, hood flopping off his head, as a Glock 19 was pressed into Hans' sternum. The man's face was... grisly, to say the least. His left eye had been rendered down to a hollow and grown over socket, skin on that whole side of his face clinging to the bone and muscle like fleshy saran wrap. The other eye had only scant remains of eyelid. One of his cheeks and a portion of his lips were missing, baring his teeth for all to see. The rest of him was burn scars, wiping away whatever pigment had been there before, although based from his hands, he was African in descent.

The bowling bag in his left hand was notably heavy, and with the zipper open, the standard bowling equipment was there, as was a plastic wrapped play-doh looking substance, some coiled up wiring, and two green blocks with raised green lettering: FRONT TOWARDS ENEMY.

The man spoke in a strung out voice that had either smoked a pack a day for 30 years, or had spent at least half of his life screaming, his lack of lips on a portion of his mouth drawing out his s's, "Let'sh go for a walk."

[Sudbrazil]

Situationally unaware
Manhattan, New York - Past midnight

---

“Money and status, rather than honour and duty, bind people to TIAMA, the Army, the police” muttered Charles in a half-hearted reply to Vaughan “What a shame.”

He leaned back onto his chair, and took a sip of whiskey. He glanced around. Something felt strange, the air was filled with heat in a cold corner. Movement caught his eye. In his confidence and foolishness he had naturally assumed that in a room filled with people whose job is to fight and watch, someone would cover their backs. He did not account for the fact that they were either newbies, drunk, or generally incompetent and uncaring. He did not see not feel the warm stranger with his warm phone in the now cold corner of the hall, and because of this that stranger was suspiciously close to a comrade of his. Charles slipped his hand under his jacket’s shoulder, carefully unbuttoning the flap that held his Browning in place. The checkered grip of the wonder nine felt good in his hand.

As he motioned his companions discreetly with his head towards the other end of the bowling alley, Charles regretted leaving his ballistic vest at home.

[Cybernetic Socialist Republics]

As Ophiuchia left the washroom and reentered the alleyway, she caught notice of a Hans that seemed to be standing incredibly still, mostly obscured by another individual standing in front of him, one Ophiuchia didn't recognize as having participated in the party.

As she kept walking, at some distance, but her view of Hans mostly obscured at said person's back, she noticed that this mysterious individual appeared have a gun pressed up to Hans's chest.

Judging by the context, and well, the action it's self was incredibly unlikely that the person mean't no harm, the issue still remained as to whether or not the individual in question was part of a larger plot to target the heroes or simply a mentally disturbed or desperate person who thought they we're holding someone up for some cash.

Ophiuchia aired on the latter, as even if she were wrong, the course of action she intended to take would be unlikely to harm the situation. But if she say, assumed that this hostile actor was someone with intentions of killing every last one of them, and she say, charged to run her sword through him, then it turned out he was just a kid with issues, it'd be an incredibly bad look for her.


So Ophiuchia would opt for a less-than lethal option. Earlier in the day, when she had tried her hand at bowling, she used some hastily made by Aethelind, custom bowling glasses and shoes with light shield projectors that could guide bowling balls towards a strike on command. Now, with her sword at her side, she had the full shield projection capabilities of Aethelind at her disposal.

Ophiuchia casually strode forward until she was at a comfortable angle, a line of sight that still behind, but at an angle to the individual. She used her augmented reality eye contacts to target the pistol, careful to aim for the body of the gun, to minimize any injuries to the armed individual and sent a pre-configured brain signal to Aethelind to send up a quick, non-lethal concussive shield prong at the gun, which if successful, would knock the gun out of the individual's hand and across and past, Hans's chest creating a bright flash of red at the area the projected shield impacted with the gun. It might also knock Hans back, which wouldn't be all that bad as it'd well within the non-lethal for non-meta's range.

[Lessoni]

"How'd you find yourself a part of TIAMA?" She then asked.

Jack Dredd

Jack pondered for a second on her powers. He knew that some heroes used suits, but he hadn’t heard of any with claws. He almost shrugged, but caught himself, realizing it would probably look weird to shrug at his own internal monologue.

“Oh, I ended up here when I got tired of... I had a whole monologue prepared about how I was tired of cops trying to arrest me for vigilantism, but I seem to have forgotten it. Really, I just realized how scary it is getting shot at on your own. Like, what if someone put a bullet in me and dumped my body somewhere? My parents would never know what happened... I guess I wanted someone to watch my back, is what I’m saying. What about you?”, he asked.

[Mandicoria]

NYC, Lucky Strike Bowling Alley
Armored Truck Containing Patriot, Gauss, and Tesla
Almost an hour later...

The truck screeched outside the bowling alley, its back doors opening to reveal the trio inside. Patriot gesturing for the others to follow as they disembarked their little transport. With Tesla and Gauss following him out. Patriot actually having a bit more of a cheerful demeanor about him despite what was shown earlier. "You know, I'd totally be in casual if it wasn't for the fact we're in the city. Can never trust being here." He remarked to the others. "Suit's not really a hindrance, but it's good to at least breathe."

"Mhm. I didn't take you for a bowling fan, Kurt." Tesla responded, following Patriot through the front doors.

"I mean it's not bad, it's just that bowling alleys always have pretty good concessions... And some alright beer I guess." Patriot shrugged to Tesla, then looked back to Gauss. Gesturing for them to follow. "Hey c'mon, the other TIAMA guys oughta already be here."

[Remnants of Exilvania]

New York City
Lucky Strike Manhattan
Hans

Hans' eyes went wide as Washington's hood slid off his face, revealing the grisly landscape that used to be a face. Mutilation didn't faze Hans anymore but he could guess that people in general reacted quite differently and that this poor man's life had been ruined and most social interactions been a thing of the past. No wonder he was shy. Shy and defensive. Defensive enough to press a gun against his chest as Hans noted when he looked down at what was exerting that pressure on his chest.

A small glance past the gun and he saw the open bowling bag, filled with the usual bowling equipment and what looked like explosives. A few more things clicked in place in Hans' mind.

Leaning slightly forward, not enough to trigger any feelings of threat or the like that could potentially make this mentally unstable and highly defensive person pull the trigger on him, Hans lowered his voice and said conspiratorically:

"I'm sure they won't bite, maybe that Doktor girl can even fix that face of yours. But sure, if you want to get to know me on a walk, we can do that. I could use some fresher air after being cooped up here for so long."

He glanced down at the gun again.

"Though you should probably put that away then. I don't think open carry is permitted in New York and I'd rather not have the police or some passerby coming to get us. Also, can I hold that Glock 18 for a moment later? Maybe we can even visit a shooting range to shoot a bit with it? I always wanted one but my funds only permitted me to get a measly old 1911.

And hey, just so you know, there's nothing wrong with you. I am sure behind that face you are a wonderful human! I guess many people don't see things like that and judge you based on your face but don't worry, I have seen worse. We could be best of friends!"

And then Hans just turned around and marched in the direction of the exit, turning his head around again after the first two steps, trying to see if Washington was following him:

"Hey, we could start with exchanging names! I already told you that mine is Hans. What is yours? Explosionno? Nah, real people don't have names like that but I am sure your superhero name has something to do with it, given what you seem to be bringing."

[Anowa]

-snip-

One would find that patronizing someone typically wasn't received well.

Revenant's aim shifted downwards to Hans' gut, in an attempt to fire a non lethal shot into his stomach, a wound that, in the grand arrangement of where else the man could be shot, was largely superficial. Although a snag was immediately struck.

A sudden and unexpected force to the gun swung it left as the trigger was being depressed. Resulting in a 9mm round slamming into Hans' forearm instead of his bellybutton. The gun carried on out of Revenant's hand, skittering across one of the lanes before ending up in a gutter. A bright flash of red blinding Revenant for an instant. He didn't skip a beat however, slipping the bag's strap over his shoulder as he ducked behind the lane's bench. Grabbing the Walther strapped to his ankle, he popped back up and immediately fired 3 rounds at Ophiuchia's midriff. His other hand diging around in the bag for... something.

---

-snip-

Given an hour or so of just, shooting the shit about the day to day, Gauss earnestly didn't feel too put off about Patriot. She generalized it as simply reading about him rather than actually experiencing him firsthand, same could be said for Tesla. Bowling however was something she was, a bit excited about, she hadn't been to an alley since she was 12, and was a bit eager to see if she was still as good as she remembered. "Haven't been bolwing in a while, should be-"

Gunshots, 4 in total, pistol caliber, "Motherfucker."

[Europa Undivided]

The bowling pins tumbled as one as a bowling ball crashed unto them, sending them down the place from whence they came. Nicholas snipped from his cup of orange juice as Marcus stood up in turn to roll the ball down the alley. "You are such a sore loser.", Nick commented as Marcus rolled his own ball with much less luck than himself; he didn't even knock half of the pins.

Marcus snorted. "You're the most unsupportive guy with superpowers that I have ever met.", he answered as he sat down to let Nicholas have his own turn.

"That is true.", Insurgent answered. "That reminds me, I haven't told you how they work, no?"

Marcus scratched his head. "You're sure you want to tell me that? After all, I could be spying on you..."

Insurgent shook his head. "Nah, I trust you. Basically, I can take command of any machine within a few meters."

"Uh huh.", Marcus nodded. "Anything else?"

"I... uhh, how do I say this, hack computers without pressing a single button?"

"That sure comes in handy-"

Four shots. All pistol caliber, from within the bowling alley.

"Great.", Marcus sighed as he rushed towards cover along with the Insurgent. "A break in, a snatcher, and now an active shooter. This day can't get any more better!"

"This place is full of superheroes.", Insurgent replied. "But that's besides the point.", he said as he peered over just to see a suspicious character digging in his bag for something while another man looks like he had been knocked back. There was the heroine known as Ophiuchia, whose status seemed unclear.

"Alright AIDA.", Insurgent said as he put his sunglasses on. "We have a situation. Put the drones on standby nearby."

"Okay boss."

Marcus frowned. "Where are those drones anyway?"

"In a trash box in the alleyway.", Nicholas answered with s sly smirk.

[Cybernetic Socialist Republics]

Small arms fire was usually not much of a concern for Ophiuchia. Particularly small arms fire she could see coming, particularly small arms fire coming from a single direction, one after another, assuming that it wasn't sustained for too long, at which point shield depletion would occur faster than it could be made up for.

The moment Ophiuchia fired off her first blast from her variable forcefield, the shield begun shifting it's self into combat configuration, namely focusing it's efforts in blocking a path to her vital organs, with a bias towards guarding in front of her.

So when the first bullet from the attacker's gun was fired, it did not penetrate her shield, and the next two shots did worse as Aethelind had pulled aditional mass from non vital areas to reinforce the area being aimed at. To save energy, the shield did not attempt to cancel out all of the momentum of the shots, so Ophiuchia was knocked a couple steps back, with the shield reddening at the region of impact.

This was also the moment that she recognized the grisly visage of the person firing at her, no doubt they were dealing with a metahuman. At this point this might have been Ophiuchia's signal to charge and begin pummeling this meta, but the nature of his burned facial structure lead her to believe that chances are, she was dealing with someone that was rather durable.

Additionally, seeing him reaching for his bag had her worry that he might be carrying explosives within it. Since this guy was in the process of trying to take on an entire party of meta-heroes, it wasn't impossible they were dealing with someone willing to die for his cause. So getting closer to potential explosives would be a big mistake. She could endure (though not painlessly) a grenade size explosion even without her shield and her shield would drastically aide survivability, but if there were explosives in there, she couldn't be sure of their power.

There was also the issue of Hans being shot in the forearm. Regardless of the nature of the attack, there were going to be injuries, so it was of outmost importance that their medic be secured. Aethelind was signaled to begin operating in flight mode and Ophiuchia hovered of the floor. Ophiuchia's next order of business was making it over to Holiday, though as she did, she'd make sure to remain facing the attacker, to keep her eye on him and orient the focus of her shielding in his direction, Ophiuchia wasn't about to be hit in the back.

Recognizing that the concussive blast had temporaily disoriented the attacker, on her way, she'd grab a bowling ball, throw it at the attacker's head and light it up with another concussive blast as a distraction, while she would pass by Hans and ask him if he wanted her to bring him to Maria and her cooler for some "healing potions" before heading on her way. The additional benefit of redeploying by Holiday was that Ophiuchia would be with the rest of the group, which would provide a more united point of attack and also cut down on potential friendly fire.

[Endem]

Chris Digel

Hearing gunshots he turned nearly on a whim to see what was happening, and he managed to see someone taking Hans hostage, Opiuchia trying to rescue Hans, Hans getting shot... A lot of things happened to Hans, anyway, their day off was just ruined because some f*cker decided it was a good idea to take a hero host age.

"Alright f*cker, you wanna ruin our day off, I'll ruin your day" he then drew his two signature SiG's ( did I forget to say he had them? ) and pointed them at the fellow, who just shot another couple of shots at Opiuchia, this situation just refused to not get more heated, didn't it, ah well, at least it'll be interesting.

[Remnants of Exilvania]

New York City
Lucky Strike Manhattan
Hans

To say that Hans had expected to be shot would be an overstatement. To say that Hans was surprised about getting shot was an overstatement as well though. Saying that he had very much considered the possibilit but believed in a different outcome was more likely, he did afterall believe that he was dealing with a potentially mentally damaged hero like himself. A belief that was strengthened when the Revenant aimed lower, Hans believing that he was actually lowering his weapon to put it away and already about to spin around and skip away happily.

A belief that was somewhat shattered when the half-expected outcome of still getting shot became a reality as Hans heard a gunshot and felt a piercing pain in his left forearm...his good forearm. Fuck.

With a pained yelp he jumped over one of the couches, diving for cover on its other side. He really didn't want to risk any further gunshot wounds as scarface was letting it all out. Normally he'd try to prevent that and harm to anyone else by trying to grab a hold of the gun and wrestling around with the suspect but with his arm hurting like hell whenever he tried to move it and his other hand still being wrapped in enough paper towels to look like a grey, round ball, he had wisely opted against trying to engage.

Talking about that wound...it fucking hurt like a bitch. Not as bad as it could have but fuck, it still did. Oh, it was nothing compared to the pain in the lab but fuck, just because he had suffered worse before didn't mean that he was suddenly immune to lesser pain.

Meanwhile his carefully constructed illusion was shattered ever more as Revenant fired more rounds, this time at Ophiuchia, who had the foresight to create a shield before her, it turning red in part under the impact of the bullets. Perhaps this was not actually a hero? Had they accidentally stumbled on some criminal prick? Or had it been the other way around? No, Hans ruled out those possibilities. Given what he had seen in that bag, which was something nobody sane would be bringing to a place he didn't intend to do bad things in, it was quite clear that this villainous bad guy was probably here on purpose. Maybe to blow them all up?!?

He barely heard Ophiuchia when she asked him wether she should bring him over to Maria, as the crazy doctor girl was called. At this point Hans knew that he probably couldn't avoid meeting her but he still shook his head wildly at Ophiuchia, saying:

"Either take him out now or get the others out. He's got plastic explosives of some sort with him I believe."

He pressed his ball of a hand onto the bleeding wound on his arm, soaking up the blood with the paper towels as well as he could, not intending to really move from where he was.

[Cybernetic Socialist Republics]

When she reached Hans and asked him about pulling him back towards the rest of the group, he stubbornly refused to do so. As Ophiuchia also ducked behind the couch, her invisible shield recalibrating itself to make use of the couch's additional, however minor, stopping power, she quickly looked back at the hero group to see Chris Digel, who was clearly aiming at the attacker, though not yet firing, presumably waiting for her and Hans to get clear. She turned back to Hans one more time.


"You see that guy's face? He's gotta be really durable, so taking him out won't be that easy, and even if we do, what if he has a dead man's switch on him? The safest thing to do is regroup further back, attack him from afar, then move from there. Chris Digel is back there waiting for us to get back before he opens fire, for fucks sake." Ophiuchia told Hans through the chaos, speaking at his ear.


Ophiuchia wanted Hans to come back with her, but if he refused, she'd quickly just keep heading back towards Holiday, informing Chris Digel and telling him to fire if he wanted to along the way. Hans was a Metahuman, not a civilian, he could put himself in harm's way unnecessarily if he insisted.

Additionally signaled to Aethelind to prep the shielding in front of her eyes for an explosive blast, not particulary intrested in even temporary blindness should an explosion go off while she was looking in this attacker's direction.

[Union Princes]

Holiday

---

The sound of the initial gunshot bounced off the walls in the bowling alley shook Maria out of her drunken stupor from her hamburger banquet. Rejuvenated from the excessive eating, the German quickly evacuated her chair before collapsing on the floor all while laughing manically for being self-conscious of the ridiculous state she was in. However, upon hearing three more gunshots inside the building, Maria slowly got up with her hands steadily gripping the edge of her table. Her laughter went mild before her hands grabbed two more bottles of alcohol for Maria to drink. The doctor was taken over by bloodlust when she popped open the two bottles before drinking its contents simultaneously. Maria slurped and consumed with great gusto, never minding the beer spilling on her white shirt. Once she was done, Maria left one bottle at the table while breaking the other to form a makeshift weapon. With her free hand, the blondie grabbed the dull butter knife before proceeding to the last known location where she had heard the gunshots.

With her slasher smile becoming permanent, Maria came across comrade Hans, Chris, and Ophiucha. Despite the pleasantry written all over her face, Maria's sapphire eyes betrayed her inner thoughts saw soon as she saw the wound on Han's arm. Like a metal slinky stretched thin, something inside her mind reacted snapped angrily. Maria muttered something indiscernible in German before raising her voice for her friends. Her next words came out dripping molten steel. "Hans, my dear, who hurt you?"

[Endem]

Chris Digel

Thanks for getting him outta the way, Chris thought to himself when he saw Opiuchia getting Hans out of the way, he then began charging onto the would be hostage-taker, opening fire along the way, soon 4 bullets flown from each SiG P226, thus giving about 8 If 9 mm. Bullets now racing through the air towards the party crasher.

He of course very much expected the guy to attack back, but at the same time, even if little inebriated his reflexes should be enough to dodge most bullets and whatever punch that guy could try to get Chris with, for now the best he could do was to keep charging forward, hoping that his precognition could soon hit in.