Cowman

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"It is simply ironic," he continues, with a distinctive british aristocratic drawl, "That those who call themselves heroes are just as ill-mannered as we "criminals". And with a lady present, too," he gazes at Penny, "They ought to be ashamed of themselves..."

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The other man merely shook his head, as though it was a topic he had already went over before and didn't wish to waste his time with it now.


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"He's not a hero," she mumbled, partially in response to the statement, and partially to herself. "He's just a guard."

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A slight grin actually broke through his stone-like expression.

"True," he nodded appreciatively, as if that little statement of fact alone had bumped his opinion of her up a few notches.


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"Information brokering," she said just after this. "Selling secret... secrets... that type of thing."

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"What kind of information," the man pressed, his interest piqued from her strange behavior. If there was one thing a prisoner could describe, it was how they ended up here. This girl's vague explanations had sparked his curiousity.

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"Bullying trash."

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"What did you expect," another prisoner chuckled a little from the corner. "We ain't here to be coddled." A two days growth of whiskers added to the hard, weathered look of his face. A scar ran over one of his eyes, now a milky white from some old injury. His expression seemed set in a permanent scowl that only deepened the lines on his face.

Name: Marcus Kirke

Gender: Male

Known Powers: No super powers. Expert marksman, extensive training in hand-to-hand combat, expert strategist.

Brief Physical Description: Shaved head, weathered looking appearance, scar over one eye.

Nutshell History: Joined army at young age, went mercenary at the age of 30. Took up operations in Paragon about 5 years ago, became known as a specialist in jobs involving superhumans.

((I wouldn't mind getting in on this.))

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Cowman: Attack of the Troll!


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Strike me down and I'll become more powerful than you can imagine!!

Well the "arrest tags" used to send the criminals to the Zig are supposed to drop 'em in the medical wing where any injuries are treated. Hey, if my Natural marial artist can be "fixed" after getting stepped on by a lumbering pile of boulders, I'll believe a Hellion can be saved from a bit of sword evisceration.

As for RPing good guys.....

I usually keep my heroes interesting (for myself at least) by stepping back and examining the character beyond what I've written about them. Without knowing your RP style all I can suggest is to really try and see what makes these characters tick.

It's all well and good to say "my hero is motivated by the death of a loved one", but go beyond that. How does your hero view him/herself? How do others view them? Just because a character is a hero doesn't mean they can't be as misunderstood as a villain.

Another thing you could try is to not reveal everything about your hero upfront. Leave some mystery and try to bring it up in the context of the RP. For example, I have a superspeeder who's concept is pretty straight forward. Cocky, mutant hero out for fame and women. Then it's revealed he was adopted and there are no records of his real parents. THEN someone who looks remarkably like him with similar powers shows up. Suddenly you've got a whole new facet to your hero to explore. How does this usually shallow guy handle this kind of situation. Maybe since your heroes often turn villain, try switching THAT up. A violent anti-hero who suddenly finds that they can't kill anymore, either through divine-intervention or maybe crazy alien implants, who knows?

The only real way is to keep practising at it. Try picking out some of your more heroic villains and try to decide just what aspects of their GOOD side you find most interesting and work from there.

I RP a good number of both heroes and villains and both are a blast to fool around with.

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"So you made a mistake, someone got hurt and/or killed or some property got damaged and they decided that you were a threat to society as we know it and sent you here. Fascinating."

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"Honestly it was more about my organizing the sale of arms to a militant third-world rebellion. A bit drastic, I admit, but it DID up the price of oil and made things quite difficult for a few of our competitors. The stock market earnings were confiscated upon my arrest of course, but I still view it as a partial success."


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"You're welcome to come along if you can stand my company."

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"Thank you," Julian answered, nodding. "It would indeed be most helpful to have an intimate knowledge of one's surroundings."


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After a moment or two the eyes would go out and the darkness would fade and two envelopes, each addressed to a inmate of the room, would be laying dead enter of their bed and would state:

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12 midnight

Southern War Wall

Do Not get caught and true power awaits



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The little interruption earned a raised eyebrow from Julian. He read the note with the same neutral/bored expression he usually sported.

"Interesting," he mumbled idley.

((No problem. ))

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"I wouldn't suggest shaking my hand. People tend to react badly to my skin oils."

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Julian nodded in understanding, storing away this bit of information as 'potentially useful'.


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"So aside from being a mean nasty villain who would destroy the world if you were let roam the world unattended what got you in here? I accidentally poisoned several judges at a science fair and then didn't feel enough remorse."

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"Sounds like you don't have a very high opinion of people," the boy grinned, sitting down in the desk chair. He appreciated the fact that she didn't treat him like a child just because of his age. Condescension was something he couldn't stand and he could respect a person who was at least observant enough to know he didn't need to be talked down to.

"My own incarceration was a bit more straight forward however. I am the son of Tobias Grace III, current head of Grace Industries. Under the direction of my grandfater, Tobias II, our company was one of the only direct competitors to Crey. Sadly my father, while a very clever inventor, is not a very good businessman. As a result the family business has fallen downhill in recent years. I decided to take steps to rectify this; steps that the judicial system did not view as entirely legal. I'm ashamed to admit that I made a mistake which allowed the authorities to trace my actions back to me, so here I am. A minor setback to be sure, but nothing too disastrous."

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"Well I wonder when this mysterious Julian Grace will show up." SHe muttered to herself.

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"My, I don't believe I've ever been called 'mysterious' before," the barely 13-year old grinned as he entered, nodding politely to his roomate. "Though I'm afraid the label may be a bit too dramatic for me." He studied the room with a casual air, though his eyes were careful to take in every inch, including the ceiling.

After his brief examination, the boy seemed to remember where he was and held out a hand to the girl with a smile that was much too business-like for a child his age.

"How do you do," he greeted respectfully if a little coldly. "Julian Grace."

Jimmy glanced around as the other students milled about the room, waiting for their turn to be called up to the office. As casually as he could, he made his way toward the girl he'd been watching ever since he spotted her in line. She had her eyes fixed on the floor so she didn't notice Jimmy walking up behind her until he spoke.

"Mel?"

Melanie Blaine jumped at the voice, looking up with wide eyes at the boy behind her.

"Jimmy?" she gasped, mouth falling open in shock. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I heard what happened at the bank," he answered, keeping his voice low. "Spook figured out where they were sending you so..."

"So you got yourself ARRESSTED?" Now she was looking at him like he was crazy, shaking her head in frustration. "And I suppose Spook helped you set it up. I'm gonna KILL her if I ever get outta here."

"I told you gettin' involved with those guys was going to get you in trouble," Jimmy pressed on. "We had to find some way to get you out before..."

"D**n it Jimmy," Mel interrupted. "You just don't GET it. You never did. I don't WANT out. This was MY choice. MY life. Quit trying to save me."

Jimmy was about to protest, but the sudden appearance of a rather large guy inserting himself between him and Mel cut him off. The guy's head was shaved and he had multiple piercings in his eyebrow and ears. Tattoos covered the exposed parts of his arms along with one on the back of his head.

"There a problem here Mel?" the newcomer growled, glaring murderously at Jimmy. The girl stared at her former friend for awhile, as though wrestling with what to say. Finally she sighed, turning away from him.

"Yeah Brick," she almost whispered. "This guy's bothering me. Make him leave."

Brick stepped forward, making his threat obvious even without words. Jimmy considered pressing the matter, but didn't want to start a fight with all the guards still around. Dinner was already history and he didn't feel like bringing on any more punishments. Not to mention the fact that Brick would most likely flatten him in a straight forward fight.

Backing down from the large thug, Jimmy went over to lean against a wall. He hadn't given up yet, but he was smart enough to wait for better opportunities than this.

Jimmy sighed in dissappointment at the announcement of no food. He could have used something to eat. The 'Dine hadn't worked it's way out of his system yet and an empty stomach would only add to the nausia.

Spook had fought him to the last on the inclusion of the super-drug in his little scenario, but it had been a crucial part and distatsteful as the aftereffects were, there was no other choice. Jimmy followed the line toward the school, still casting a few quick glances back toward the familiar figure a little ways down the line.

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Collasping mere inches from this "Meatwagon" male she started twitching in reflex to the electricty flowing through her.

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Julian had to admit to being slightly amused. He had expected any useless display of machismo to come from one of the bigger detainees; perhaps the rock-like creature.

To have one of the women resort to basically beating her chest like a silver-back gorilla claiming his territory..... well, it was a bit of a surprise, though certainly not a wholly unwelcome one.

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In a display of dominance Circe' bared her teeth at the earth male that was smirking at her. On her home planet if the male didn't back down she had every right to kill him on sight.

Circe' folded her arms under her chitenous chest. She would have to find out who was the quenn around here.

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Julian maintained his disinterested expression, but kept an attentive eye on the suddenly rebellious student. With any luck the security would be forced to subdue her. It would be a good chance to judge the institutions effectiveness as well as the abilities of the girl.

Julian calmly followed instructions. It was pretty much what he'd expected. Standard demoralizing routine; strip the inmates of their identities to break down individualism and resistance. He'd actually wrote a paper on the subject a few months ago under an alias, though that had been more centered on POWs than criminal prisoners, or as this facility seemed to prefer, 'students'.

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Jimmy stepped forward with the rest of the group. He flinched a little at the shouting Longbow agent, but managed to keep the same neutral expression on his face, willing himself to simply blend in and not be noticed.

Again his eyes shifted back and forth, taking quick glances down the line of students. This time he thought he caught a flash of a familiar head of hair causing his pulse to quicken briefly. Spook had been right again. She WAS here. Now was not the time to try and talk to her though, so Jimmy shoved his hands deeper into his jacket pockets and hunched his shoulders a little more against the cold rain. He'd just have to bide his time.

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"What you lookin' at?" He asked the person who was stareing at him. "Nothing? Me thinks so." He spit at the person who was stareing at him.

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Jimmy Shanks looked down at the saliva on his shoe. He hadn't actually been staring at the rocky creature in particular, just sort of looking in that direction. He didn't bother trying to correct the thing though, but simply sighed in a reserved manner and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets as he stood to exit the bus.

Jimmy didn't look like a 'delinquent'. He wore normal looking clothes with a hooded jacket that was looking a little on the worn side. An unruly mess of brown hair sat on his head looking rather untended. The glasses rounded off the look of an everyday 17 year old.

Following the line of students out of the bus, Jimmy stood with shoulders slightly hunched in the light drizzle. He kept his demeanor closed off, isolating himself from the others around him. Yet beneath the hair that hung slightly in his face, his eyes flicked about the school as though searching for something.

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Julian walked out in line with the others, giving another annoyed glance at the clouds overhead. Rain. Another annoyance. Standing with his hands behind his back, he waited impatiently for things to get a move on.

"Name?"

"Julian Grace."

"Villain Identification?"

"...."

The look given to the man was one of extreme annoyance that seemed to old to be used by the barely 13 year old boy standing before him.

"Julian Grace." The boy repeated, voice colder than a glacier. He had no time for frivolities such as alternate names for himself and seemed insulted by the implication.

Julian was a rather small boy with a pale complexion that came from sitting in front of computers all day long. His dark hair was combed back in a business like fashion that matched his obviously tailor-made suit. Any veil of childhood innocence was obliterated by the cold glint from dark, calculating eyes. Even now, on the bus with guards watching over him, his demeanor was less like that of a prisoner and more like someone who must suffer the sillyness of children.

He took his seat without a word, eyes darting about the bus, running over every new passenger as they came on. Julian may have looked rather mundane compared to some of the darker and/or more unique occupants of the vehicle, but the boy didn't seem to notice.

I always had so much fun heading over to the Galaxy City park and just listening in on all the crazy conversations. Rowr, Ireland Love, Loan Shark, the little Clockwork robot (can't remember her name). It was a blast. That's where I used to go to play with the Super Fetus.

Then they made me change his name and I had to delete him.

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"So, you're all just going to go and do his dirty work for him?" Amilia raised an eyebrow. "Do any of you realize he's not offering much of anything? We do the dirty work, we take the risks, we get to grasously keep illegal weapons or sell them through equally illegal means." The woman shook her head. "That is, of course, assuming we don't get killed doing things on his say so."

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"Not much different from what most of us are doin' now," Frankie shrugged, finally speaking up. Though he fell silent again immediately afterward. No the old guy WASN'T offering much. Just an improved chance of survival if they could pull it off. As far as Frankie was concerned, it was a pretty good deal.


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"If you all really are going along with this half-baked plot, then I'll come along as well. Someone has to keep you all out of trouble."

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Frankie only shook his head. Did she NOT notice the car full of Family just a few moments ago? That was real trouble in his opinion. During the plan, at least they'd know where the bullets were coming from.

Frankie remained silent through the entire exchange. The old man's offer, the others' rebuttals, Tyler's tantrums and posturing... all were regarded with the same neutral stare. His mind, however, was taking it all in.

The plan had merit. Jonah had proposed driving a wedge between the Family and the Outcasts as well, though an opportunity like this one hadn't yet presented itself.

At this point 'trust' wasn't necessary to Frankie. If the old man was telling the truth then they'd have a chance to take down some Family and Outcasts. If he wasn't then it was most likely an ambush and they'd have to take down whoever this guy had working for him. Either way they were eliminating competition, and that was what Frankie's job was really all about.

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"F'in gangbangin losers" Tyler mumbled as he walked away.

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Frankie cast a disinterested glance at the departing man. Typical of the loudmouthed posturing idiots that were all too common in the neighborhood. Never passing up a chance to beat their chests in some futile display of machismo.

Jonah claimed otherwise, of course; his big unification theories. Frankie just didn't see it. But then, visualizing wasn't his job. Chewing absently on his toothpick, he turned back to Bin and Mo.

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Mo and Bin watched Frankie step out of the alleyway and ran over to him.
"Run. Now," Bin said, passing him.

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Stepping back quickly, Frankie pressed his back against the wall and pulled open the alleyway door beside him. The needles struck the door with a chorus of metallic clinks, some actually coming out the other side of the thin metal door.

Frankie raised an eyebrow at the lodged projectiles and then closed the door. He glanced back at Mo and Bin briefly.

"You okay?" he asked with all the warmth of an iceberg.

Frankie watched from an alley as the smaller gang proceeded to destroy the car full of Family. He didn't interfere; no reason to at the moment. He'd be having enough run-ins with the Family as it was before all was said and done. Might even be butting heads with some of the other gangs as well if Jonah's plan didn't work out the way it was supposed to.

Frankie was a hard looking man. Now 25, he had grown up in the Edge, the gangs and violence nothing more than another aspect of his life. His parents had moved there from Chinatown just before his birth, hoping for a better life. Not that they got one. Frankie wasn't exactly a kind person; oh, he wasn't cruel or psychotic or anything, just not very sentimental. Unlike many of the gangbangers and thugs prowling the streets, Frankie didn't bother to wear any "colors". His usual attire was some loose fitting pants, plain t-shirts and an open hawaiin shirt over top. A rather cold, professional sort in a society that relied heavily on rage and chaos.

Taking a last second or two to simply watch, Frankie finally moved out of the alleyway. He casually stepped over the prone body of a rival gang member, dropping the red-speckled bat beside him as he did.

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OOC: Though, actually, Gerden's going for both schools, and when Megumi finds that out, she will too...

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((Most of the students probably are, but you have to master one first.))

((I think there are four Mountain students. Yin, Kagura, Megumi, and Yuri. I THINK that was all of them.))

I'm in a bit of a quandry over a character I recently created. She's a natural scrapper and I'm not sure how to handle the travel power, so I thought I'd see what some other people had to say.

The concept is an agile fighter who gets around via a grapple line and a cape/glider. My question is; do I use Fly or Super Jump? Fly more closely imitates the act of gliding, but Super Jump has the nice "open arms" pose for gliding that Fly lacks. I'm not really interested in which power is better for in-game travel, just which one best fits the concept.

So, what do you think?