Rebuffed, Johnny put his hands in the air and let Frostburn past.  "I'm guessing I'm missing a page from this one."  Prudently, he stood down.  If Crimson Dawn could take on everyone already in the fight plus Frostburn, he could certainly swat Johnny like a fly.  The helmet's visor kept feeding video and audio back to base, though, and if anyone looked about to die he figured he'd jump in and save the day.

In reply to Comstock (msg #631):

"It's not like..." Solitaire thought for a moment, trying to decide what it wasn't like. "It's more about losing choices that were previously available to me. It's not really the point that I didn't go get drinks at a normal bar all that often, it's just that I could. It was an option. Now I'm even more glowy and shit, and I couldn't pass for baseline even if I tried. I wouldn't have gone back to being normal if I had the option, but that fact that I can't even pretend anymore... I'm not even certain if it's a big deal. That's part of the problem. Perhaps I have commitment issues." She wasn't even sure she was making sense, she was just venting, but it felt good nonetheless.

Solitaire leaned her head back, so it was resting on Comstocks shoulder and she was looking at the roof of the truck. "Tell me, Tin Man. Why do you do what you do? Why did you choose the path you did? Tell me your story and I'll tell you mine."
This message was last edited by the player at 07:15, Tue 05 Apr 2011.

Crimson Dawn's perceptions were already clouded by rage and taint before the other Utopians arrived.  When the rocket man burst past and the speedster threw a quantum blade at him simultaneously, he was even further disoriented, enough that El Dragon was able to hammer into his mid-section.  The impact created a sonic boom, and the force of the blow broke through his eufiber nanoseconds before another, louder explosion burst from El Dragons fists.  The impacts drove the elite backwards, spinning in mid-air before he crashed to the ground near the rapidly cooling pool of lava he created earlier.  Was that the soldier all over the news, the one that errupted in Columbia?  Now the military was under that bastard's control-

His thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of Frostburn.  Crimson Dawn looked at her with menace; she was saying something to him, and though not his target, he would happily go through her to get to Impetus.  But her total lack of regard, paired with her insulting tone and words, further confused him.  And humiliated him.  Feelings of shame and impotence washed over him; rage and confusion warred with a strong desire to slink away and hide.  Then Impetus' voice broke through Dawn's confusion.  Turning, he looked up at Impetus: the fucker was TAUNTING him, trying to shame him further.  Rage poured through the elite, and radiated off of him in waves.  The vein in his forhead pulsed in time with his rapid heartbeat, and the flames around him grew hotter.

Crimson Dawn couldn't be manipulated by Impetus.  Not like everyone else.  No, he saw through the man's games, saw the way he wormed into people's minds.  But Dawn took it all in and fed it to the flames.  Everything Impetus said stoked the furnace of his rage.  As Impetus finished his taunting, the elite grinned, smile full of menace and hate.  "You know why they call me Crimson Dawn?" he said casually.  "Its because I burn like the mother-fucking SUN!"  And then the world went red as plasma washed over the entire area.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Everyone within 600m takes 11b levels with armor piercing 14, reduces movement by half, and reduces visibility by half as a Storm of elemental power washes over the area.  Those staying inside will keep taking damage, and the flame will get hotter.  CD is going to ensure Imp is in the blast, but I'm not sure where he's positioned exactly, so if you're within 600m of Imp, you get a tan.

---

This message was last edited by the GM at 20:05, Tue 05 Apr 2011.

"Whoa!"  Though outside the area of effect, Johnny backed off a bit more.  A wave of hot wind and sand swept over him next.  "Gettin' hot in here, guys."

"My story, huh."  He nodded to the right side of the car.  Nellis Air Force Base.  "I was going to be fly boy once.  Pipe dream.  I didn't have the grades and I didn't have the friends.  That's how I ended up doing the army thing."  He reached to the left and checked a road map, then sped up a bit as they started coming to the edge of town.

"I mean, that makes sense, right?  You're 18, you're from a dusty little town, you see these planes scream by waaay up there and you think 'the government will pay me to do that?  Hell yes I want to do that.'"  He laughed.  "Yeah, they turned my butt right around and sent me over to the army recruiter and then they told me I'd get college covered.  I think you know the rest of it.  Shot some guns.  Ate some chow.  Got out, drank way too much, made a scene and still tested like shit."

"Then I erupt and ... now I'm here."

He paused, trying to think up more.  "I listen to Webb Wilder.  I can't tell the difference between good beer and bad anymore.  I guess I ... I do what I do because ... I don't know.  I guess I just like seeing things fair."

"What else do you want to know?  I can tell you a whole lot of stories about that great tackle I put on Rico Garcia in my sophomore year or the time my friends and I stole some of my dad's beer and guns."

Thrown back by the force of the blast, El Dragón threw up his arms to shield his face.  The front of his eufiber began to ripple in the heat, giving the appearance that the metallic scales were melting.  Fire...Santa Maria, why did it have to be fire?  He braced himself against the storm on a basaltic outcropping and battered down memories of the flames that scarred his face.

When the storm had spread to nearly a mile in diameter, he had sudden, almost panicked, visions of an erupting caldera and fiery death for himself and the millions who lived in range...some of whom were his family in Napa Valley.  Thoughts of his madre, Tio Max, Tia Isabel, and his kid sister Gabby all dying in flaming agony set off something in Dragón.  Struggling against the buffeting of the plasma storm, he executed a complex kata sequence, his face set in a snarl.  Angry flashes of quantum lightning began to flash along the force field he wore like a second skin.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Spending a willpower to maximize Force Anima:  15:00, Today: El Dragon rolled 1 success using 4d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 with rolls of 8,5,5,6.

---

When he was ready, he filtered out all sensations, all sounds,  all the superheated dust, rocks exploding from the intense heat, and heat shimmer.  For that perfect moment, nothing existed but the target.

El Dragón's legs tensed as he crouched, like a coiled serpent, ready to spring...

Icy calm overcame Frostburn as the elite unleashed hell on the surrounding desert.  As she damped her emotions and prepared to do whatever was necessary to stop the crazed nova near her, anyone remaining to watch captured a glimpse of the cold place in her heart where her powers originated.  The waves of heat washed over Frostburn, but never touched her.  Her aura of cold was easily pierced, but it was irrelevant; she was nearly Invulnerable to temperature extremes.

Though drunk, Frosburn had acted under far worse intoxication during her time with the CIA.  Gazing at Crimson Dawn with icy contempt, Frostburn slowly stretched out her hand and made a fist.  All motion near the maddened elite suddenly stopped, as energy was stripped away from the molecules in the vicinity.

As she concentrated, beads of sweat manifested as perfect ice crystals on her skin, and she loudly but calmly spoke  to anyone nearby. "Someone put this bastard out of our misery, I can't hold this long."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:41, Thu 07 Apr 2011.

To think was to act, and being handed the perfect shot on a glittering crystal platter, the sniper took it...

[Private to Rydi: I would like to have the double attack I've been using become his signature "finishing move" called the "Dragon Strike" or something like that.  As per your request, I'm leaving the rolls to you.]

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
I have my normal 11 dice to hit +3 dice from Accuracy for spending a round aiming -3 dice for the multi-action and I'm spending a Willpower on the attack roll.

Damage:  [(Str 5 + M-Str 2 = 15D) + (Aerial Slam = Str 7 + 3 + 4 for flight = 14) + (Force Blast ((Quantum 4x2)+(power 2x3) = 14)] = 43

---

Time slowed in his mind, as what he had seen so often in his imagination as he plied his deadly trade behind his beloved M-24 became reality.  He kept his eye fixed on the side of Crimson Dawn's head and "looked" himself in as he had so often done in preparation for taking the shot, visualizing the round's flight to a perfect hit as if he were the round.

At the last moment, Crimson Dawn's massive head turns, corded neck muscles creaking and straining against the enforced stasis, and their eyes meet.  In the giant's eyes, Dragón could read the madness and desperation, and behind them he could see the soul-gnawing fear.  Whatever remnant of CD's consciousness that wasn't drunk with rage would see, in the eyes of the Dragon, pity...but no mercy.

His entire world became fire. Unlike the blast in Colombia this had no shockwave, lacked the incandescent brightness of a nuclear blast. Instead it was a hellish red and orange, closing his eyes didn't really change the color much. Red was also the color of pain, something he also was experiencing with altogether too much intensity. He figured he had a few seconds left until it overwhelmed his central nervous system. Then he would go into shock and probably die. And today had started so well too. All this flashed across his mind in less than a second. Now what to do about it. He could run, maybe go straight up and hope that CD was unable to exist outside the atmosphere. Possible. He could drop lower and evade until CD ran out of juice, god knew the man was going at full burn, no pun intended. Possible.
You're still thinking like a baseline , beautiful. Didn't I teach you anything? Aren't you Impetus? Master of momentum? Someone who is capable of stopping a rocket in flight or making the molecules around you behave as you wish? All you have to do is take the energy that he's throwing around, channel it through your node, and use it to evolve! Make yourself more powerful!.  You can do this, make your daughter and I proud!
Car? That was her voice. He hadn't heard her speak aloud in what seemed like forever, and had felt her contact him only when he was under. She had never lead him wrong before. He focused on his node, on the quantum energy rippling around him, and focused on that energy becoming a coherent thing, one that would resonate with the powers he already possessed and make both stronger. He felt a surge of almost blinding pain as his node grew larger, felt the white hot power of eruption rage through him. He fell out of the mini-sun and crunched into the desert floor. Smoke rose from his charred eufibre, his hair had once again been burned off, and his skin was reddened and blistered. Cracks appeared in the skin on his arms as his muscles swelled, noticeable even through his suit. The buttons on his chest strained as his pecs bulged. He looked up to the center of the crimson sun and, noticing his new teammate' attack, readied to power into CD with all of his new-found strength.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
4 sux on a node spark roll, with everything channelled into strength. Imp now has M. Str 5 (for 2 turns) and is the proud possessor of 2 temporary taint points.

---

This message was last edited by the player at 11:49, Wed 18 May 2011.

The blinding light. The burning. It was Columbia. The nuke had exploded blasting the area with radiation. She was going to die. Suzukaze grips her quantum forged swords as she falls blindly to the ground trying to clench shut her eyes to keep the light out. Then she remembered this was not Columbia. This was not something that could only kill. It was something that could be killed. She was a killer. The wind of death.

She concentrated her senses as she stood keeping her eyes clenched until she could determine Crimson Dawn's location. She readies a blade as it surrounds with energy. She swings firing the blast at Dawn, and as soon as it leaves her blade she takes off charging Dawn at full speed. A glow of purple energy surrounds her as 3 more of her appear. They splinter off to attack from different sides. The real 'Kaze comes from behind jumping and swinging her blades down on Dawn.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)

First activating blind fighting... If everything hits and I got everything right Damage should be 14L from quantum bolt, 15L from the main sword and 12L from the secondary sword... So 41 lethal damage total.

19:22, Today: Suzukaze rolled 8 successes using 15d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 with rolls of 7,9,5,7,3,5,2,10,4,6,9,3,6,3,3. 2nd sword strike on dawn.
19:21, Today: Suzukaze rolled 6 successes using 15d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 with rolls of 4,8,3,8,4,8,6,2,5,2,2,7,6,2,6. main sword strike on dawn.
19:20, Today: Suzukaze rolled 1 success using 6d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 with rolls of 9,3,1,6,4,2. holo against dawn.
19:19, Today: Suzukaze rolled 6 successes using 10d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 with rolls of 6,10,7,9,5,5,4,9,8,7. damage from qb on dawn.
19:18, Today: Suzukaze rolled 8 successes using 12d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 with rolls of 8,2,10,8,3,2,5,4,8,6,10,5. Quantum bolt on dawn.

---

In reply to Comstock (msg #648):

"That's only half of my question. Its less about your history, and more about what is important to you. Why did you join T2M? Why have you stayed? For whom do you save the world and why? Why do you turn into an unstoppable juggernaut. Its all summed up in one question. Why do you do what you do?"

"For me, when I was growing up, it was always 'Why can't you be like your sister?'. Not to say my parents didn't love me or anything, but it was always about Cassandra. She was the 4.0 student, the president, prom queen, played the cello, dated the quarterback and so on and so forth. Smart, pretty, liked, I always thought she was a bit stuck up, but you can get away with arrogance when you never fail. Then there was me, middle of the road, scraping by at whatever I did, never really excelling. Then, even in the few area's I did, it wasn't a bit deal, Cass had already done it. She's off in New York these days I think, conquering the fashion industry, but we didn't talk even before I erupted."

There was something odd about the story to Solitaire, and it took her a moment to figure out what it was. The 'I'. It was as if she was putting herself into somebody elses story, taking credit for things someone else had done. She was Solitaire, not Jessica, but this story was, for the moment, about the woman she had been.

"I didn't spend much time at home growing up. I never really felt I fit in. It was my parents house, not my house, though I don't think I realized it then. I was always off getting into trouble with Alex. Her name was Alexia O'Conner, but everybody called her Alex, and she was my best friend since I was nine. She was the one with the ideas, the plans, the capers, the moxie. The sun to my shadow. We complimented each other perfectly. We were inseparable. "We had grand plans, we were going to save the rain forests, the wales, the zebra's, the kittens stuck in trees. We were going to save the world. "

Solitaire smiled at the memories, all the hell they had raised, the trouble they'd gotten into. They had known all the cops in the county by name, sometimes they'd even drop by the station when they weren't in trouble, just to be annoying, they'd been something like the mascots. Of course, her smile disappeared when her memories caught up to the present.

"She died when I was 19. So did I, Jessica, that is. We'd just moved into an apartment in Seattle near the Art Institute, classes started in three weeks. I'd been out of town for the weekend, I don't remember what I'd been doing, but I came home and the building had burned down. It was still smoking as I dug though the wreckage. Faulty wiring. All I found was her jacket, and a present. It was my birthday."

She reached a hand into her pocket and pulled out the scrap of leather, running a thumb along the singed edges.

"That's why the jacket was so important, it was all I had left, my talisman. When I wore it, I could feel her with me. Solitaire was born that day, even if she didn't have a name yet. For the next few years, I was wreck. I didn't make any friends but Jack Daniels, I didn't want any. They wouldn't be Alex. I just kept to myself and played cards. That's where I got the name. It felt right, I made it mine. Solitaire, a state of being, and the card game I would play. Fitting."

"When I erupted, I literally remade myself. To be honest, my personality back then was a facade. I thought if I couldn't bring back Alex, perhaps I could step into her shoes, channel her to give myself strength. Everything I did, for the longest time, I did for her, because we couldn't carry out our plans. I'd save the world for both of us. Somewhere along the line though, I's stopped pretending, I'd become who I was. I could finally let her go. Instead of living for two dead girls, I could live for myself, and just be Solitaire.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:39, Sat 16 Apr 2011.

There was a solemn pause and a mellow smile.  "No kidding?"  They'd entered into the realm of the sacred and secret, and he was suddenly glad he did his own car work and could be assured that they weren't under the old regime of listening devices and safeguards.  Privacy, the kind of privacy only an open road and a thrumming engine could provide.  "It's hard to think of you faking it, you know?  I mean, out of all of us you always seemed the most straightforward.  No agenda or ulterior motive or anything like that.  Like a Zen warrior or something, with your ideas figured out and your little rituals and some kind of understanding with the world."

He gave a halfhearted almost-whistle.  "Why do I do what I do, huh?"  He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.  The city was fast becoming a field of bright points and a glow on the horizon behind them.  Out here it got dark and quiet, and not so many cars headed out that way at that hour.  "I don't know.  I guess ... I was kind of running.  Trying to get into something safe and get some learning before something went wrong or my mistakes caught up with me.  I liked service, but I'd burned bridges with old friends and closed off the college route.  I mean, I didn't want to face people and say 'a little bit ago I was some jerk but now I'm a nova so everything's cool'.  I was still the same guy, just a lot stronger and a lot weirder.  I hadn't done anything to make up for the partying and slacking off, and if I was going to face them I wanted to be able to say 'I did something'.  So I called Utopia, gave a phone interview, talked with a few people at the Rashoud Center, and before I'd even signed the papers I called the army recruiter to rub his face in it."  He smirked and laughed a bit at that memory.  It was stupid bullshit, that phone call, and he knew it, but at the time he was shocked to be alive and still felt like he'd gotten a raw deal out of his army years.

"But after I got in it, I got to know all of you.  I started to figure out how my brain was changing and how I was going to have options.  And then there was all that crap with Harley and Freak.  I was sitting there, getting some solitude, lifting weights and thinking about how screwed up we all were.  I mean, I felt like the metal was it's own thing just riding around in me, Zero was everywhere at once and talking riddles, Gravitas was already trying to look God in the eyeball, David was going messiah on us and Zeus was starting to talk to himself.  I was sitting there and I thought to myself 'someone's got to hold all this together and Frostburn's not always going to be around.'"

"So it had to be me."

"I could take a beating and I was pretty clear headed, I thought.  Comparatively maybe I was.  Or still am.  And hell, maybe Imp or P talked me into it and I just didn't notice.  But, like, it's got to be somebody.  And dad always told me you've got to make some decisions like there's no one else in the room."  He sighed and thought back over everything he had said.  "I guess that's it.  I do what I do because no one else will.  I can't just stand around and wait to see if someone else is going to ... to build some good houses or jump on that bomb."

He looked over to see if his answer satisfied, then continued on.  He explained himself with a particular anxiety, an almost desperate need to find the right words for something so basic it defied scrutiny.  "Okay, okay so you said 'save the world', right?  I like the world, I think it's worth saving.  But the next guy that tries to tell me I'm doing it wrong or I'm only making a bad world worse or any of that postmodern crap is going to get a punch to the jaw.  I don't know about any of that, and after a few years of T2M I don't want to know about any of that.  I know that there are some people that don't want to get along and some people that do, and when the people that don't push the people that do can't always stand up for themselves.  Maybe they don't have any guns and the other guys do.  Or maybe they're trapped by the law and can't do anything.  Why should the don'ts get away free and the do's suffer?  That's basic injustice right there and it happens everyday."

"So who do you trust to make it right?  When there's no one else, when the system doesn't work or when everyone else is too scared, I can do something.  It hardly costs me anything but it means the world.  So why shouldn't I?"  Somewhere along the way, he'd gotten mixed up.  He wasn't arguing with Solitaire: he was arguing with his critics.  With those Elites back at the Archon.  With everyone telling him he was wrong to think and do as he did.  But from the sound of it he hadn't vented in a long time either.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:26, Sun 17 Apr 2011.

Solitaire laughed, "Ah, and here I was thinking you were solid as a rock, always knowing the  right thing to do and willing to take the weight of the world on your shoulders. We're the same in so many ways, yet so different. Both running from who we were, becoming the roles that were so ill fitting to start."

She laughed again, amused beyond words by the thought of cool, collected Comstock laughing at an army recruiter simply for spite. It was so out of her perception of him that it was absurd.

"We do what we must, because we can. Don't ever let anybody else tell you different. Never let anyone question your decisions, or tell you that you're doing it wrong. They were, they are, your calls to make, and if they don't like them, well, Utopia can fire you. It's easy to criticize, but they didn't have to make the choice. Do what you must. Not what it takes to achieve an objectives, but what you must to remain who you are. If you cannot be yourself, you aren't anything."

"Of course, Utopia won't fire you. Ever. You'd have to quit. They need you, they just won't admit it. They have too few of the old guard left to let you go, too many threats only someone of your scale counter. We even have Pax now, I expect the higher ups died of apoplexy when that happened."

There were few situations where Solitaire could truly relax, simply because it was so natural to be on guard all the time. She was aware of virtually everything that went on nearby to the extent that nothing ever surprised her. It felt so good to simply let go and not pay attention. Comstock was there, and he'd take care of anything that might happen.

"My only suggestion would be to consider the deeper results of actions you take. Humanity must be able to act on its own if it is to survive. Adversity breeds strength, so do not take from them what they could accomplish on their own. Stand between them and our own kind, but don't interfere if they wouldn't. Assist, but do not act for them, They must stand for themselves.

Dillon let out a dry chuckle.  "Stand for themselves, huh."  His mouth curled at the corners as he mulled it over.  "I ... I just don't like this us and them crap.  I'm human too, aren't I?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:13, Sun 24 Apr 2011.

"Its not like that. The question is, are you just human." Solitaire replied. "Just... Don't let them become dependent on you. Once we solve enough of the worlds problems, they'll look to us to solve all of them. That's not what anyone needs. You know? Think about it."

He nodded.  "You're probably right.  But I'm not sure I know where to draw that line.  I know we're not ready yet ... they're not ready."  He brooded a bit.

Fortunately, his fast driving gave him a brief respite to think.  "Okay ... almost there."  He pulled onto another road and they trundled past an unlit sign.  "Valley of Fire State Park.  Whole desert is in reach, and there's hardly anyone to bother us.  Been awhile, but I used to love it here."

"Ohhh, this place is nice." Solitaire said, rolling forward so she was on her knees and leaning out the window. Her hair billowed out behind her, casing a pale glow throughout the night. "Do you have a favorite spot?"

It was quiet out here, the sounds of the wild were different than those of humanity. They didn't jar in her mind the way a city's noise did. Perhaps it was because the sway of plants or the small sounds of animals was 'natural'? Whatever the reason, she liked it here.

"Nope.  Just about anywhere."

They found a good spot with a view and he parked.  "Here we are.  Let's see if I can still get a buzz."

Crimson Dawn stood motionless, straining against the ice-woman imprisoning the heat of his rage, yet another woman that made him powerless with her cold contempt.

The elite’s mind was nearly gone, taint and hatred warring for control over the parts of his brain that had not been eliminated to make room for his bulging 6th instar node.  Visions of his wife, his hopes and dreams, the happy moments of his life pulsed in his mind intermittently between flashes of red hatred and delusional half memories of all of his life’s disappointments, as epileptic storms ran through his grey matter.

In a brief moment of clarity, he saw a fellow soldier staring into his eyes, and saw himself reflected there, the mad animal that he’d become.  Even as Crimson Dawn strained to escape, a part of him yearned for the death promised in those eyes.  Then the moment of clarity was gone, as a storm of cuts from an ill wind pierced his mox-weakened skin, and flashing images of the woman with the glowing blades disoriented him.  His rage intensified with the pain, giving him the strength to burst free of the stasis around him, but it was too late.  El Dragon rocketed toward the disoriented and weakened elite, crushing bone as he drove the elite into the desert floor, then bursting organs as the second wave of force beat him further into the rock.

The waves of heat dissipated as Crimson Dawn called on his final reserves of quantum to survive the onslaught.  Impetus, driven by a burning rage of his own, fueled by a quantum storm in his node, arrived just in time to see his struggling enemy rise to one knee.  The giant was still in combat with El Dragon, but fire in his remaining eye was slowly dying; likely he could not even see his enemy approaching.

The firestorm around him was wavering and had gone from being an impossibly hot blast furnace to being merely searlingly hot. He saw CD drop to his knee but still maintaining his guard against El Dragon, he'd hav eto remember to give the new recruit some kind of reward for stepping up like this. That was for later.  For the present, Imp banked sharply and came around at CD from his blind side, hit him like a locomotive and slipped his left arm around CD's neck, with his trachea firmly in the crook of his elbow.  He then grabbed his own right bicep, placed his right hand on CD's head and brought his elbows together like a vice. As this was happening he wrapped his legs around CD's waist and rocketed straight up. He felt CD struggle, gods the man was strong, but there was no way for even a trained warrior to prize Imp off his back when he was so firmly set, and with enough quantum flowing through his muscles to make his nervous system light up and glow through his skin.  As he was choking CD out Imp focused on the blood trying to flow past his elbows and willed it to stop.  The massive arms' flailing grew less and less coordinated and slower until, just seconds later they stopped and hung limply at his sides.
It would be so easy to keep the choke going, or to snap CD's neck. It would be easy enough to attribute it to the heat of the moment, or an accident, but Imp would always know better. CD wasn't well, he was truly deranged. Sick. Perhaps a victim of the negative quantum resonance that Zero had been investigating. Regardless, he needed help. Imp couldn't turn to his fellow terats, they had neither the facilities or the desire to hold CD until they could cure him.  That left only Utopia. They had more experience dealing with nova physiology and psychology than anyone on the planet, and he trusted them to do their best o cure the poor man.
He let the choke go, kept ahold of the man's combat harness and descended to the still smoldering valley floor. Once he was down he gently lowered his foe to the ground, then looked around at his fellow Utopians.
"Thanks everybody, without your help I'd probably be a deep fried grease smear by now." He let the energy go that was coursing through his body, the glowing lines beneath his skin faded and his normal incandescence faded down to its usual level.
He visibly debuffed, arms and chest deflating to their normal dimensions. "Let's get him back to base so he can get the attention he needs before he comes to, I've got the blood flow to his brain restricted so that he won't wake up soon, but I don't want to keep it that way for long enough to give him further brain damage. We'll debrief tomorrow at 07:30."
He then lifted CD gently in his arms and flew off towards the Nevada compound, leaving behind a glimmering contrail of golden light.

Impetus tore past Johnny on his way back to the Sierra Nevadas Base, and he diligently caught it all on camera.  "Hey Binary or whoever's working the desk right now: when this hits distribution I want a percentage, alright?"  He breathed out, easing his nerves, and descended to meet the others.

"Hey, do we need to do any cleanup her or do you all want me to catch up with Impetus and keep an eye on him?"

El Dragón stood for a long moment, staring at the dot that was Imp carrying away the titan he had been locked in a death-struggle with little more than thirty seconds before.  His mind, quicksilver fast in combat, was still trying to process the fact that it was over.

When they were no longer visible, his awareness snapped back to his surroundings.  The ash of blasted vegetation, the blackened carbonized sand, the raw scent of smoke and pure heat on the wind, and the pop and ping of rock, tortured by Crimson Dawn's unnatural flames, cooling now in the desert night air.  That's when the adrenalin gave out and the shakes started.  These were worse than usual because of the images now locked in his mind.  Though as a sniper, he'd often taken the shot, and kept himself squared away afterward, he'd never been the shot.

The scene replayed itself over and over: hurtling toward the giant's head.  Each time, the eye got bigger, growing in size until he could see himself clearly reflected in it.  The image he saw was of an arrow, its head trailing flame, hissing toward the eye...

Dragón  could be found a few minutes later, a short walk from the battle site, in a sheltered spot, flashing through a dizzying set of kung fu forms and martial arts katas at a speed Bruce Lee could only have dreamed of.  Occasionally a pulse of force energy is sent shooting through a punch or a kick to thump into the air or crunch into a nearby rock.  When this happens, he always stops, instantly, with a look of frustration and disgust on his face...and starts over.  He gets a bit farther each time until, half an hour later, he stops on one knee with both fists driven into the sand.  Then he executes a graceful "Shao Lin" bow to the four cardinal compass points.

Only when he has finished this do his eyes seem to focus on anything around him.  After that, he seems his normal self, his breathing is deep but slow and regular, and he looks tired, but otherwise pulled together.

As the battle comes to a close Suzukaze opens her eyes in time to see Imp take off with Dawn. She looks around seeing Johnny and Dragon then catches sight of Frostburn. She turns towards Johnny.

"Everybody just get back to base. Make sure Binary contacts the right people for this. Also be sure to give him full details so he can write up a report."

She then takes off in the direction of Frostburn and slows to a walk as she nears her. She takes in the other woman's appearance....

"Rough night senpai?"

Frostburn took a seat on a nearby rock after the combat was over.  She wasn't exactly a major nova fighter, and didn't generally engage in open combat like some sort of crazy superhero comic book.  It was both exhilerating and exhausting, and like it had even when she was "just another human" in the CIA, it left her shakey and weak as the adrenaline left.  But the trick is not letting it show, can't have the kiddos thinking you're some kind of scared rookie.

Frostburn's eyes took in the damage to the landscape before settling on 'Kaze.  They were bloodshot, and she still seemed a bit drunk.  After a night drinking, followed by strain and the inhalation of burning air and desert sand, her voice came out as a gravely rasp.  "Every night's a bad night, figured you knew that by now kiddo.  World you've been mixed up in ain't all that different than the one I was a part of back before all the novas were around to complicate things.  Business I'm still in really, whether I like it or not.  Heard you've made your way back to the darker side of life lately... I'd warn you to get out, but that self-hatred thing you've got going won't hear any of that.  So, friendly advice: watch who you trust, never let your gaurd down, and always think about the ramifications before you agree to anything.  You have a whole lot more control as a nova than I ever did as an agent, and that means you get to choose your missions, choose what work you do."

Frostburn coughed painfully.  "Okay, lecture over.  Help me get up and get back to base.  I don't think my poor jeep made it through this, and my lungs are giving me hell.  Oh, and good job getting out here.  Pass on to the rest of the team they did a good job with this.  It was their first big test as a team, and everyone came through."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:25, Sat 21 May 2011.

Phantasm crept away from the scene of the battle after the rest of the team left.  She'd been very tempted to intervene, but she was glad she'd stayed hidden.  The fight was damned good experience for the new team, and it would've been a shame to rob them of it.  But it sure is scary how close CD came to winning that... He's gone completely crazy, and gained a whole lot of power to go along with his crazy.  Wonder what the implications are for the rest of nova-kind...