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Post by Avery on Sept 13, 2016 16:10:08 GMT -5
bzzzz "Crap." The young girl, hunched over her desk in the very back of the stuffy classroom, fumbled for the 'mute' button on her phone. "Crap, crap, crap..." "Ms. Sinclair?" intoned the tall, slender woman who stood at the head of the space. The habit the teacher wore to cover her hair did nothing to conceal the look of utmost annoyance on her face; of all the teachers at the girl's school, Sister Angelica-- who, aptly, taught the parochial academy's theology lessons-- was by far her least favourite. For this reason, usually the girl wouldn't have dared work on her stories during the nun's class... but during pre-algebra the period before, the inspiration had just come to her-- washed over her, whoosh, like a wave, a wave of words and lament-- and she hadn't thought Sister Angelica would notice, not if she just took a quick peek at her WoogleDocs app and furiously thumbed in a paragraph or two-- "Anything you wish to share with us?" said the nun. "Mm, nope." Sister Angelica scowled, dark eyes narrowed into knowing slits. "This is your first and last warning for the day, Ms. Sinclair. If I see that cell phone again, you're getting detention." "Yes, Sister." The nun turned back to the whiteboard. ... The girl sat dutifully still for a moment, phone out of sight. Hands clapsed on her desk. Attention feigned. Listening as the dry erase marker squeaked against the board (Sister Angelica was writing out a very long verse from the Book of John). ... It was going to take her a long time to write out that verse, wasn't it? She was only a sentence in... Cautiously, carefully, the girl peeked at the alert that had caused the phone to buzz in the first place. A text message. From-- great. Her dad. Of course it would be her dad. Most parents trusted their nearly twelve-year-olds (yes, nearly twelve!) enough not to be always sending them check-ins, and reminders, and needling encouragements... but not her dad. Nope. Gosh, sometimes he acted like she was still eight. Or six! Not an almost-teenager who was almost-in-middle school! (If she'd gone to public school, she'd have already been in middle school; but leave it to St. Ann's Academy to condescend sixth graders to elementary. ... But when she'd tried to argue this with her dad, of course it hadn't ended well.) The girl reflected for a moment. Deliberated. Then-- still cautiously, she began to tap out her reply... Meet 11-year-old Moriah Sinclair. She is very good at being a good student.
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Post by Reiqua on Sept 13, 2016 18:13:00 GMT -5
Miss Marković frowned at footpath as she made her way back to the school. She wondered if it would be possible to reschedule their library session to the afternoon, or if she'd have to – ooft! She was rudely interrupted from her musings as something very solid collided with her. Set off kilter by the force of the impact, she tottered precariously for a moment, bracing herself for an collision with the icy concrete, until suddenly a hand closed itself around her wrist and pulled her upright again. With nothing injured except her dignity, Miss Marković felt her cheeks grow warm and turned to look reprovingly her attacker and rescuer. She was taken by surprise, though by his familiar appearance. Her first wild thought was that this was Bill Sinclair, host of Hero City, but even a split second's thought put the lie to this theory. He was much too young. The man seemed somewhat embarrassed as he mumbled an apology. She quickly assured him the she was fine and not to worry about it before turning to the far more pressing matter on her mind. “I'm sure you get asked this all the time,” she started almost apologetically, “but are you by any chance related to Bill Sinclair at all?” Upon almost getting knocked to the ground by Sinclair's doppelgänger ( Shinko), Miss Marković's most pressing question is who on earth this mysterious fellow is.
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Post by Tiger on Sept 13, 2016 18:51:09 GMT -5
Iskender didn’t stay in the lobby very long; there were things he needed to get done, and of course, the longer he was here, the greater the chance someone would come bother him with minor inconveniences. If they were going to bother Iskender about anything, they would need to do at least enough work to go to his office. The contractor had laughed when she’d been told she was building an office for a cat. Iskender had taken it upon himself to personally inform her of the punishment for this insolence – either a substantial decrease in her pay for the job, or a free, one-way trip to the diving board of the shark tank. She had built quite a nice office, in the end. The door itself had a catflap, and otherwise only opened from the inside. The office’s back wall immediately caught visitors’ attention – and usually made them draw back a pace. The aforementioned shark tank had one glass wall on Iskender’s side. The rest of the room was sparsely-furnished, but nicely so; a large desk, a comfy, plush chair behind it, (black, of course, and covered in white fur), a minifridge in one corner, a scratching post in the other, all the usual trimmings of an office. After retrieving and opening a can of tuna from one of the desk drawers, Iskender pawed his computer mouse to wake it from sleep. An unfriendly chirrup made of downscaling notes in a minor key announced that the voice-recognition system was activated. Typing was somewhat difficult when one lacked opposable thumbs. Halfway into the tuna and almost an hour into reading up on the latest news regarding villains, heroes, his various stocks, and of course, listening idly to the Hero City Network channel in the background and occasionally checking Chitter, there was a knock at his door. Iskender sighed, paused the voice detector, and uttered a terse, “Come in,” as he slapped a button on the edge of the desk. The latch on the door clicked and the handle turned. “GOOD MORNING,” Screaming Scimitar said with a respectful nod of his head. “DID YOU HAVE ANY MISSIONS FOR US?” “Not just yet. I’m still analyzing the political climate. That doesn’t mean you have to hole up here, of course.” Iskender turned the screen slightly so the blade-wielding, loud-mouthed villain could see the news report and the various social media responses. “Nightshadow is getting up to mischief on the train tracks. I’m sure you could find something productive to do.” “I HATE THE FIRST DAY OF THE NEW SEASON,” Screaming Scimitar declared morosely. “WHY DO ALL THE ROSTER CHANGES HAVE TO HAPPEN AT THE SAME TIME?” “Because if heroes left early,” Iskender scoffed, turning his screen back, “they wouldn’t have a chance at the prize money. The start of a season is when the reevaluate if it’s worth it to keep ‘saving the day’.” “YOU’RE VERY CYNICAL.” “I’m a cat.” “I JUST…I CAN’T BELIEVE EYESCREAM MAN LEFT. SOME OF MY GREATEST FIGHTS WERE WITH HIM.” Screaming Scimitar’s trademark weapon – oddly silent, especially compared to its owner – was made of some substance that could repel the now-former hero’s eyebeams, resulting in battles that had frequently involved Eyescream Man having to find ways to convolutedly bounce his eyebeams around the room to actually strike his target. “WE WEREN’T ARCHENEMIES OR ANYTHING, BUT ONE MORE BATTLE WOULD’VE BEEN NICE.” Iskender, his attention more on the gifs of the traintracks situation already being uploaded to Rollr, said dismissively, “Go hold up his ice cream shop once he builds it, then. Do I have to walk you through everything?” When Screaming Scimitar affirmed he did not need such guidance, Iskender flicked his tail and added, “I don’t see why you care so much. Clearly his heart wasn’t in the fight, or he wouldn’t trade it for his precious intact features and ice cream.” “HE’S PROBALY GOING TO GIVE ALL THE FLAVORS PUNS FOR NAMES.” “I don’t doubt it.” The cat looked haughtily at Screaming Scimitar. “Did you have an actual purpose here, or did you just come to blather about old superheroes?” “…I’LL LET YOU GET BACK TO WORK.” “Do,” Iskender advised. When the villain had gone, Iskender shook his head and turned back to the computer. “Mute the feed, computer. …Now – bring up file scans-underscore-hh-underscore-nine.” He had scans of a certain, somewhat hypnotized hero to review. Tiger got bored and made a largely-pointless Iskender post Iskender does some business, chats with Screaming Scimitar, and then gets ready to take a look at some scans of some kind from hypnotized Tim ( Dju). Scans of what? I dunno 8D
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Post by Rabbit ♠ on Sept 13, 2016 20:00:32 GMT -5
Mandy Evans ran down the streets of Heraclia, knowing that Felicita was waiting for her at the Electric Bass. She didn't mean to be late. It wasn't her fault that her bike needed new tires. Then again, it was probably a bad idea to attach lights onto the wheels. The rubber, melt-able wheels. Her snakes, Strobe and Flash, got into another fight. And there was a lot of work to do for Hero City that needed to be done today. Today was just not a good day for her. Not that she didn't face this sort of rush to work before. As one half of the Serpentine Sisters, being Salamandy, the leader of the two, she has faced being late to a number of gatherings. It wasn't anything new. She had grown so accustomed to this she became really good at making up excuses. That had saved her tail from trouble a few times. As Mandy was running, she heard a beep from her phone. She knew it was a text from Felicita. She checked her best friend back right away. And then Mandy ran into a stop sign. It would be some help if she looked where she was going. She should really focus on one thing at a time. Mandy burst into the Electric Bass the moment she arrived. She followed the sound of keyboard music to find Felicita playing some of her favorite tunes. Mandy smiled, and even ended up dancing to the tune. Mandy politely waited for Felicita Pixie to finish her tune before setting up some equipment.
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Post by ♥ Azzie on Sept 13, 2016 23:59:34 GMT -5
"And... stop." Karo Sullivan, speeding along the running track just seconds before, stopped a few steps past the mark on the floor with a little hop. "Thanks, Al. What's my time?" They took a nearby towel and wiped the sweat from their forehead. Al held up his stopwatch. "37.8. Great job." He smiled at Karo's pleased expression. "Just doing my best," they nodded. "Is it time?" "Just about. Sam said you were working this afternoon?" "Not til tomorrow. She still around?" Al tilted his head in thought. "I haven't seen her in a bit. She might still be here, though. Need her for anything?" Karo shook their head. "Nah. Just checking on the suit. Have a good afternoon." They waved and gave Al a small smile as they headed into the changeroom. Half an hour and a shower later, Karo climbed onto the bullet train. Their hair was a bit fluffier since being freed from sweat, and they brushed it out of their eyes while they watched the scenery whiz by. No matter how often they came up here, Karo could never get past how beautiful the city was. It always looked best from here, where the sunlight could gleam off the rails and surround Heraclia in a kind of glow. It was really just an optical illusion, but Karo always felt like it looked more like itself that way. It shone with a brilliance Karo had never seen in any other place. It was home, and Karo couldn't wait for the world to see it and its heroes again. Karo Sullivan finishes a session at the gym, and takes the train home, marvelling at how pretty Heraclia looks from the train and how happy they are that Hero City is starting up again.
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Post by Coaster on Sept 14, 2016 0:52:39 GMT -5
“I'll have a standard gyro and a lemonade,” Gordan told the person at the counter, taking some money from out of his pocket. “And I'll have it to go.”"Yes, certainly! Here's your change, and your order will be ready in just a moment!" Kaysha replied cheerily, pressed a few buttons on the till and retrieved the lemonade; within a couple minutes, Cooke had produced the gyro and passed it on via Kaysha to the customer in a paper bag. A rather self-important hero (they always came out of the woodwork at this time of year, really) arrived around the same time, sidestepped the line, and started harassing the first customer in the line--one who was polite enough to address her by the name on her nametag (which had thankfully been corrected before she got on this shift)--but the latter seemed mostly silent (albeit displaying visible discomfort), and Kaysha took his order with the usual amount of pep, prepared the next lemonade, and offered an apology for the busy-ness and for some of the rowdy customers under her breath. (Sadly, superheroes and other less savory super-powered folk, no matter what the ego, were free to strike up conversation with customers as long as it didn't break any other laws.) While the chicken gyro combo with rice was being prepared in the back, she ran the gift card through, and with a nod to the group of the next customers, she rang them through, offered them cups for their drinks, and when it was ready, offered the previous customer his food and some cheerful wishes for a happy day; then, the group that arrived after were looking out at the direction of the heroes that had just left. “Fireflyman.”
“Whatever, dude.”As Kaysha got their order from the back (Cooke was looking a bit flustered at the volume of customers, especially without his break, and Randy likewise seemed to be getting slightly... out of it, as he handled customer after customer at the fly-thru), she shouted some motivational platitudes after them ("You can do it! Our only line of defence against the hangry-ness is our fantastic service!") and deposited the containers of concentrated delicious freshness into a bag, offering it to the customers and wishing them a great afternoon. And then the next customer arrived, and the next, and the whole cycle repeated itself with few variations. Kaysha was surprised that her shift was going this well--Mom had always talked about how exhausting it was to get used to a food service jobs at the start, whether with billing issues, trying to figure out what to key in for special orders, or customers demanding all your time and keeping dozens of hungry people waiting. I mean, sure, the latter is kind of still happening but either Kaysha was an absolute natural, or really lucky, or technology must have come a fairly long way since then in order to make dealing with most of the rest almost thoughtlessly. Really, Kaysha's best work was making customers' days with her dazzling and slightly buck-toothed smile and overall cheerful demeanor, and that was probably a big part of the reason she was hired in the first place. At least, that's what it seemed like in her interview with Miss... how would you even spell that? Cithara? Cythera?...Her thoughts were put aside as the next customer came to the counter and she greeted them in the usual cheery manner. Kaysha retroactively responds to the orders of everyone who's gotten orders and otherwise doesn't do much character-related stuff. (I mean, she's working the counter at lunch rush, what do you expect? s(-_-)z )
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Post by Shinko on Sept 14, 2016 5:16:27 GMT -5
The young man laughed softly, his breath puffing in the chill of the late autumn air. "Guilty as charged. My name is Oswald- Oswald Sinclair. Bill's my dad." He extended a hand to the woman. "I take after him a lot, neh? He kept me out of the spotlight most of the time growing up. Partially because he was still keeping his identity covert when I was small, and also so I could have as reasonably normal a childhood as possible. I still like to stay out of the camera's way when I can, so I don't blame you for not knowing who I am." In a turn of events ya'll probably saw coming a mile away, our mystery man is one Oswald Sinclair, Bill's grown up son and sweet Moriah's much older brother. He introduces himself to Reiqua. I'll address the texts from Moriah in my next post, I just wanna give Tabitha and Dossier Dame a chance to go before Sinclair does anything again.
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Post by Reiqua on Sept 14, 2016 15:14:39 GMT -5
“Well, it's lovely to meet you Oswald,” said Miss Marković somewhat self-consciously as she shook the hand of the young man who had almost knocked her over, “my name's Andrea.” Half a moment ago, she would hardly have expected to be extending such a warm greeting to anyone who made her already dismal day even more unpleasant, but any good-looking young gentlemen who is polite – and the son of a well-known reality TV host to boot – can generally be sure of a good reception, regardless of untoward circumstances. She smiled as he explained his reasons for keeping out of the spotlight as much as possible. “Yes,” she laughed softly, “not everyone is made for the spotlight! And maybe it's best that way. My life is probably far too dull for anyone to want to watch me on TV! But really, I much prefer it that way.” She was aware that she really did have to get back to the school and sort out her lessons for the afternoon, but surely she could spare a few more moments in chatting to a pleasant young man such as Oswald. “So what do you do with yourself?” she asked, in possibly one of the most unoriginal introductory questions ever posed. As soon as the words had left her lips she was mentally kicking herself and resolving to make her follow up question more interesting, like 'What colour is your toothbrush?' or some such. Just posting something quickly cos I'll be out for the rest of the day... Miss Marković (whose first name is Andrea) introduces herself to Oswald Sinclair ( Shinko)
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Post by Ginz ❤ on Sept 14, 2016 17:03:40 GMT -5
DeeDee chuckled appreciatively at Miss Kingsley’s remark about beating her record. "We'll see about that!" She wouldn’t say it aloud, but she actually hoped she WOULD. She could see similarities between Tabitha and her younger self, and she had good hopes for her. And that was just what Heraclia needed, people committed to making it better. "You got me, Bill. I always try to time myself to arrive just at the right time," she smiled at him. She gave Sinclair a mild look of concern as he rubbed his shoulder, and quickly agreed. “It IS far too cold. Is it just me, or does every year seem colder than the last? Maybe I’m just getting old!” she said in a joking tone. “I keep meaning to get a new hero suit made out of thermal materials, but last time I visited my dear costume designer, she said my suit was out of date and insisted on modernizing it. Nonesense, I say! Why fix something that isn't broken?” “Yes, let’s go inside, then,” she said and started leading the way to the HCN building. Her interest had been piqued. They had all been told about the new roster this year, but any extra information Sinclar had for them would sure be interesting. Collecting information was Dossier’s Dame thing, she could never have too much of it. Inside would be a much better place to carry on the conversation. Dossier Dame is both quietly fond of Tabitha ( Celestial), and slightly concerned for Sinclair. ( Shinko) She agrees with him to move the conversation inside and heads to the HCN building.
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Post by Liou on Sept 14, 2016 18:12:38 GMT -5
That was a very nice pose. Zenith privately admitted that Nyx still had a knack for proper use of the wind and optimal billowing. "You simply brought two fans here for me to pick them up. Charming. Is that how they arrange meetups on your planet?" They strained their ears, listening out for anything lurking in the vicinity. The distinct absence of noises from trains was disturbing. This could not be all that Nyx had planned. Zenith knew her only too well. Not only did her style tend to be more bombastic, but she had also demonstrated little concern for casualties in the past. Zenith caught sight of Tim, who had taken position. That was a relief; at least he could prevent a catastrophe in a worst-case scenario. It occurred to them that they could simply stop the train. It would be spectacular. It would blow Nyx's mind and shut her up for good. It would go down as one of the show's highlights for many years... Of course not; they were being ridiculous. Zenith could not possibly attempt something so reckless when lives were in danger. And it would be something for the show finale, not the premiere. (That thought sounded curiously similar to Mr. Sinclair's voice.) Their legs tensed. "By the way, that train of yours seems to be late, are you sure you checked the correct timetable? Wouldn't be the first time-" Their arm shot out mid-sentence like a whip and a brilliant bolt of light shot towards Nyx. The second blast was fired backwards, under Zenith's legs, pushing back against the rock as they took off again and swerved around Nyx. Zenith only had an instant to charge into Nyx's ground while she shielded herself against the bolt. They could not land between Nyx and the hostages, but they dropped right on the other side of the pair, sinking into a crouch. It was one of Zenith's practiced poses, a fake three-point-landing - slightly less cool on the eyes, but much easier on the knees. The pale yellow light still glowed around their body, pooling around their clenched fist. "I don't see anything stopping me," they said in a low growl. From that angle, they could not see Tim anymore. He did have all the time in the world to hide from Nyx - that is, if he thought of it. Zenith is worried about what Thorn is really planning. They keep their cool, keep looking cool, and make a daring move to get into her personal space, ready to fight. (I hope that's ok! will edit if necessary, of course) They didn't give away Dju 's position, altough Nyx is probably facing in his direction by now.
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Post by Shinko on Sept 14, 2016 18:50:59 GMT -5
As Sinclair strode towards the building, he tapped the button on his earphone and muttered, "Compose text message: Moriah." Once he'd sent a reminder to her about her mother's overtime at the hospital- he'd meant to bring it up that morning but it slipped his mind- he returned his attention to the matter at hand. Entering the building, and again being directed around the metal detectors, he addressed Tabitha and Dossier Dame. "Contrary to what the hysterics on the news are mewling, I have managed to recruit some new talent for the new season. It took a bit of doing but I think the newbies show some decent promise." He sighed, adding, "Provided the drama of life under a magnifying glass doesn't send them mewling home after a single season. But I-" He cut himself off as his earphone beeped- a text message. Frowning slightly, he pushed the button on the side to display it and saw that it was a reply- from Moriah. "Are you serious? Just a minute," he turned away from the women, tapping out a scathing reply. At first there was no response, but after a few tries he got a row of smilies that only incensed him further. "Sorry about that," he muttered, turning back to Tabitha and Dossier Dame. "My daughter- she has only a very loose concept of 'when is the appropriate time to be sending text messages.' Namely, 'not during class.' Anyway, where was I?" He ran a hand distractedly through his hair as he stepped into the elevator at the end of the lobby, waiting for the two women to follow him before he swiped his security passcard to access the upper floors. "Ah, right, I remember. The new heroes. I'm going to need to train them up in the simulators for a bit before I'll trust them taking any legitimate missions, so at least for the first few weeks of the season there will be a bit heavier a workload than usual. Keep your signal apps open in your phones at all times and be sure to check for any new alerts." The elevator gave a soft ding! as it reached the floor where the heroes conducted business, and Sinclair lead the way out of it. "They greenhorns are in makeup and costuming right now; make sure you both head there yourselves in good time to get the usual touching up before the big premier. You know how those spotlights make you look like a corpse if you're not wearing sufficient cosme-" He broke off as his earphone beeped again. Scowling openly now, he brought up the message- and swore. "I am going to kill her, I told her I didn't have time for this today, I told her not to do this, why today of all days!" * * * "Pleased to meet you, Ms. Andrea," Oswald replied with a chipper grin. "And I don't avoid spotlight entirely, I just prefer not to make a spectacle of my face- I'm a voice actor. Not a big name one, of course, nobody hires nineteen year olds for important roles, but I've done a few incidental characters on Rebeca Rabbit, and I play the recurring minor character Stormy in Birds Eye on Science." He coughed into his hand, then adopted a harsh, gravelly squawk as he said, "Nobody knows the winds and the water like Stormy the Storm Petrel, no-sirree. C'mon kids, I'll take you on a special journey into the heart of a hurricane, and we can see together how it works!" Sinclair chatters show business at Tabitha ( Celestial) and Dossier Dame ( Ginz ❤) but is cut off when his daughter Moriah ( Avery) gets in trouble at school. He's not thrilled, to say the least. =D Meanwhile, Oswald is apparently a voice actor on children's cartoons on PBS. He loves his job. Reiqua
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Post by The Scrac that Smiles Back on Sept 14, 2016 23:46:23 GMT -5
Laima Verma, the not-secret identity of Mattress Comet, posed for the camera, shouting out the lines for an advertisement her father had probably come up with himself. "Every year mattresses save lives! Make sure your mattress is sturdy and soft, and replaced every eight years! Don't jump out of a window into something old and flat! Come on down to the Mattress Comet and save your life today!" She did a high kick and her father yelled cut. He reviewed the tape and nodded before going to his computer to edit the video. "Good, good!" She sighed, eternally regretting letting her father pick her super hero name. But it seemed like the only way to get his blessing to become a super hero at the time. At it wasn't something like The Leprechaun or Munchkin, terrible names that focussed on her size rather than what she could do. She looked around the Mattress Comet, the real business she shared a name with. No one in just yet. Across the street her other main sponsor, Patel Cars, had picked up the pace of people. Her father glanced up and followed her gaze. He frowned and went back to work. Patel Cars was operated by Laima's mother, her father's ex-wife. "Hey dad, how about we go out to eat? There's a great shawarma place I've heard about." He glanced up again. "Not Gyro City?" "Nah, not on a day like this. Too crazy!" Mattress Comet is shooting an ad for the company she shares her hero name with, which is one of her biggest sponsors and was her first. Her dad is the owner. After the video they go for some shawarma.
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Post by Lizica on Sept 15, 2016 0:55:28 GMT -5
The street cart was a blinding swath of eye-catching colors and busy product displays. Blinking and rubbing her bloodshot eyes, Officer Tricia Roberts stared at this apparition blearily. Usually, in most cases, especially after a long shift, she wouldn't even have noticed the cart at all. But Officer Tricia was the first person off of the bullet train and onto the platform of Konnarka Station, and she had almost been run over by it. It was dazzling and confusing and overwhelming and possessed an extremely compact array of far too many objects: t-shirts, plush toys, figurines, small boxes, bubble gum packages, rolled up posters, and more. The cart was also supported by a hefty bicycle. And the bicycle was in turn supporting a slightly pudgy woman in a red apron, who leaped off of the contraption and did not apologize whatsoever to Officer Tricia for nearly running her off the platform. "Tonight is the premiere of the newest season of Hero City, and do you know what you need?" the woman demanded. "What?" said Officer Tricia--less as an actual response to the woman's inquiry and more as a general confused statement. "You need to be prepared!" the woman in the apron announced. "And fortunately, I have you covered for all your Hero City needs! I've got some very huggable plush toys that are perfect for clasping during a tense moment, ranging from DUDE BRO to some Nyx Nightshadow dolls from last season!" "I'm not really in the market for that," said Officer Tricia. "Oh, then perhaps you're more in the market for a Nikki Notdaysilhouette plush toy? They're much cheaper." "Not really--" "I also have some Glitch wristwatches that keep excellent time, very good for setting an alarm for the first episode; they play the theme song. Or some Zenith oven mitts? Have you heard of the new trading cards they've released? I opened a pack myself just last week, and if you can believe it, I found my very own special edition holographic Fireflyman card! Talk about a bargain!" Officer Tricia's eyes were slowly adjusting to the street cart's staggering display, and she bent down and pointed to a figurine on the second shelf. "Weren't these Eyescream Man action figures recalled several months ago because they were found to shoot actual lasers?" she asked. Then, seeming to come to her senses, she followed up with, "Ma'am, do you have a permit to be selling your merchandise?" "Oh, absolutely, Officer!" the woman said. She opened a hatch beneath the display near the bicycle handle and produced a crisp, official-looking certificate. Officer Tricia studied it, rubbing her eyes again. "Wait," she said, "this isn't a city permit. This is an award for third place at a spelling bee--" Looking back up, Officer Tricia suddenly realized that the woman was pedaling away across the train station with her flashy wares and was already almost out into the street outside. "That's Madge Oddmund's super merchandise, sold at super prices!" the woman's voice carried down the platform as the cart vanished from sight. You know what every smash hit superhero television sensation needs? Merchandise. Tons of merchandise.
Madge here is ready to shamelessly capitalize on your success! Possibly illegally. But nobody cares about that, right. There are bigger fish to fry in Heraclia, after all.
((Mods, please let me know if it wasn't okay to name one of the train stations! Also, if I ever overstep any merch boundaries with your character, don't be afraid to let me know, because I'll be happy to fix it! ^^ On the other hand, if it's just your character who's indignant at being a bobblehead, Madge says to bring it on.))
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Post by Gelquie on Sept 15, 2016 2:32:33 GMT -5
As Gordan had expected, DUDE BRO™ took his comment as a compliment, and now seemed eager to show his skills and... himself... off, going on about the effects of his speedos. As DUDE BRO™ sped back and forth to demonstrate, Gordan instinctively looked down to see if it really did have the effect that was claimed, and then mentally cursed himself for doing so. He didn't really need to know that, did he? "Yes, I... see," Gordan finally said aloud, decidedly not looking down. "That must've taken quite the en... engineering for that..." He did not want to be having this conversation. So he chose not to continue, and when DUDE BRO™'s attention was taken away by an admittedly very curious-looking... creature, Gordan was relieved. He ignored DUDE BRO™'s declaration of making Fireflyman an all-star; it wouldn't matter unless the offer was accepted anyway. And at the moment, Fireflyman seemed paralyzed by it all. In that time, DUDE BRO™ seemed to take attention to the people Gordan was talking to. This wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't intruded, asking for Gordan's name before assuming it was Handyman, which suddenly become a much less desirable name as DUDE BRO™ went on. He was already ambivalent about the "man" part of the name, to the point where at times it didn't fully agree with him, and to the point where he'd already decided that if he needed a title, it wouldn't be one so flagrantly displaying his gender. But now "handy" suddenly wasn't to his liking anymore either, not after that comparison. "Not what... Not what I meant," Gordan muttered before shaking his head. Truthfully, being confused for a hero would perhaps not be so bad if it meant he could get certain perks that he wouldn't otherwise. But he couldn't admit to that and then not show up to the hero premiere. After all, even if he wanted to be a hero, he wasn't registered... Although... "...Anyway, no, that's not my name. None of it is. It's just my job. I'm not... registered with anything," Gordan finally admitted. "I just have mechanical interests and was curious, is all. If you do need a name, you can call me Gordan Page. I work as a freelance... ...handyman." He now fully regretted having that as his primary job title. "That is, I help with construction or make repairs." Thankfully, around that time, Gordan finally noticed that his order had come out, and he took it with thanks. Finally. He could be out of there. But as he turned around, Fireflyman seemed to have found new energy. He boldly 'accepted' DUDE BRO™'s offer to Fireflyman to become a sidekick, which Gordan might've seen as genuine if he didn't actually understand what those words meant. As he then slicked back DUDE BRO™'s hair with a strange substance, Gordan had to stifle his laughter, turning around and pretending to look into his bag with his gyro to check if his order was right. He knew he should go. But he still wanted to hear more about the device, and besides, he was curious to see if the two heroes would keep up trying to be allies or if they would end up quarreling. So though he took steps towards the door, he made them slow, to catch the last bits of the conversation and in case anyone wanted to talk to him, particularly if it was about the VR device. Gordan doesn't even know how to handle DUDE BRO™ ( Jayeee), but he's entertained at the farce of either an alliance or a rivalry (with Fireflyman ( Moni)) taking place before his eyes. He gets his food and slowly goes for the door, but he's lingering to catch the last of things or in case anyone wants to talk to him about stuff. He prefers mechanical stuff or science stuff as a conversation topic, but... silly Gordan, you can't always get what you want. Erica, Moss, and Anthony ( icon) are also there.
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Post by Thorn on Sept 15, 2016 16:05:30 GMT -5
As a matter of fact, Nyx had not checked the timetable. Perhaps this line was as abandoned as the petting zoo below? Or maybe it was a very special one, for very special occasions. In any case, she should have read the timetables after all, if only to choose a more interesting line. But that'd take way too long, and- Whoops, I'm being attacked. Nyx planted her feet and conjured up a shimmering bubble of blue. Yes, finally! There was no way Zenith could get the better of her now! They were better suited to dramatically posing against a brightly-lit backdrop, that ponytail and that outfit would do nothing for them down here. And they couldn't get at her while her shield was up, either. Did Zenith need to know that she hadn't checked the timetable? Why would Zenith need to know this? So Nyx just raised one eyebrow and smiled knowingly. What did they say? The shield muffled outside noises, so it took Nyx a few moments to work out exactly what her most hated adversary was on about. But when she did she almost laughed. "Really, Zenith? You don't see anything stopping you? I think you are forgetting just who it is you are dealing with!" With that, Nyx extended the shield to cover both prisoners. Liou finally joins Nyx on the tracks. Nyx defends herself with a blue shield (which unlike the red ones, is purely defensive unless she explodifies it- it just keeps the inside stuff in and the outside stuff out). And then puts said shield around her hostages as well. She hasn't seen Dju, regardless of whether she is facing him or not. So dear Glitch still has the element of surprise on his side!
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