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So, awkward time. :( I'm going to have to bow out. Having lots of trouble keeping up and keeping things straight. Also there are so many of us that I feel a bit like a fifth wheel. No hard feelings. Hope everyone has fun and my withdrawal doesn't cause too many issues for Watcher.
T.I.G.H.T.S. shared what he knew with Priest. [b]"So...we have Viper plus Terror, Inc. What do you think? All we can beat villain buffet?"
All of that sounds good. I didn't read it as a literal break-in.
Isaac took his communicator chip. "This is going to drill into my brain, isn't it?" he grinned as he put it in place. "So ok, your computer crime or mine?"
"I am obviously powered by a biofuel reactor. It processes food for energy at a much higher efficiency than your crude, biological systems," Isaac said. "Or I am possibly a teenager or alien." Since I'm outed anyway.... Isaac worked it out carefully -wouldn't do to drop the whole suit- picked a separation point, and instructed T.I.G.H.T.S. to retract. His helmet rippled and melted away to reveal a narrow-faced man in his early twenties, cleanshaven and with close-cropped red hair. "But I am absolutely not a ginger," he said gravely. "You can trust me; I'm three doctors. And possibly one of those aliens that looks just like humans because the budget's low maybe why not. Put more radiation on that and call me in the morning."
Isaac might have enough influence to get a rich benefactor. He's probably made his boss a lot of money. But he'd have to out himself to get that. Not sure how he'd feel about that.
Isaac was late. He burned off his frustration with the flying equivalent of a vigorous run, which turned out to be entirely different and nowhere near so satisfactory. Then he lost ten minutes weighing the risks of showing up without T.I.G.H.T.S. He got halfway to his apartment for new clothes before he remembered that they probably missed him in the audience at the trial. Hi, I'm T.I.G.H.T.S. Trust me... On arriving, he hovered just short of touching anything in the sewer and hoped nothing dripped on him that the defenses would miss. Sure, he knew how to clean the suit. But he hadn't had to do it yet. "Uh, hello everybody? Didn't know you could be a hero cuckold before today. Why is that even a thing?"
Heroes should always slip into T.I.G.H.T.S. As long as they and ask nicely. Also: I'm up for donating my pp to the base. Isaac could probably whip up some cool underwater dome thing.
"Unparsimonious! Not even wrong!" Isaac swore. Can't memetically induce the bad guy. Can't disarm a bomb. And now can't catch the helicopter before the Freedom League steps in. Resisting the urge to open fire on the chopper and send it crashing down, with all the people inside, on top of whatever was below, he did his best to keep up pursuit. Maybe they'll need me to wax their tights or do a thousand hours of community service...
Round 6 Init 13.
"No I- Wait that's a good idea. Bye." Isaac looked for the easiest way out that didn't involve triggering a bomb, and took it to begin his pursuit.
Round 6 Init 13.
Isaac's head cleared and he immediately checked his defensive systems. No damage to- Oh. Bomb. Militia nut fertilizer special? He stepped forward without giving it a second thought and began the examine the wiring and detonators. "And I left my breadboard in my other spandex."
Round 5 Init 13.
It's fine, Watcher. Avoiding a one-shot boss is exactly what I would (and have) used villain points for too. If you'd like, we can adjust Isaac's tradeoff so he packs less of a pre-loaded punch. Also yes, I got the hero point. :)
I don't mind struggling a little. Being unable to do much of anything to Blaze is a bit frustrating, but it's a first fight and literally the first time Isaac has used T.I.G.H.T.S. in anger.
Round 4 Init 13.
This really isn't going well. Should scratch together a nuke. Like a little wallet nuke. It would only take out a block or two unless- Different idea. Isaac flew as high as he could above Blaze, lining himself up so the villain stood directly below, and brought his gloves together. They flowed into one oversize piece and sprouted an aperture as big as his hand with fingers spread, irising open to release a massive beam. Sorry about the floor.
I've read the whole Claremont run, though it's been more than a decade for the back half of it. I undertook a reread a few years ago that petered out in mid-Australian period. I like to call that the "Claremont got bored" era. At one point I also read most of the 90s for the main two books, but that's a bit further back (it was almost the 90s at the time) and I recall much less. I've also read all of New Mutants, though I'm pretty sure I'll never again reread any of it past NM#60, and probably not much after Claremont left the book. Massive Doug Ramsey fan. Still bitter. Did like the resurrection and have enjoyed having him back, including the story where he went back to that damned island, but that does not make the first time around ok. That said, Isaac would totally jump on a plane to punch it to death, but Blaze's costume is far too tasteful to qualify for an homage. Also Isaac would totally invent a tiny little flying VW Beetle and call it his "gunship". But he draws the line at creating robot duplicates of the team based on old costum- No, he'd do that. But he would not take orders from a guy with a white sheet over his face. Isaac is a perverted slightly evil mad scientist with poor social skills, but he absolutely draws the line at working for the Klan. He might do Nazis, but only if they ride cloned dinosaurs AND live in the Hollow Earth AND they promised him some really good weed AND his dead PhD adviser/boyfriend was also there signing off on it. I know because I reworked Isaac's concept a bit from a Mage: The Ascension game where it looked like that would be an option.
Round 3 Init 13.
For some reason, I thought that I'd used all of mine.
We're all going to die! :)
I'm starting to get the idea that we're fighting up PL. Perhaps a couple PL. Watcher, is Blaze holding a hostage or near any bystanders?
Round 3 Init 13.
Isaac reeled in the fire, trying to dodge a dozen different ways at once. "Old Earth Creationism! Phlogiston!" he swore. By raw force of will, Isaac mastered T.I.G.H.T.S. enough to clear the contradictory orders. I am not going down in my first fight! "You call that hellfire?" Isaac said. "I've given myself better chemical burns! For fun!" He threw up both hands and let fly a pair of plasma beams.
Round 2 Init 13.
Isaac let Harry push him down as T.I.G.H.T.S. flowed over him and came online. In a moment of dizziness the hyper-sensory suite overwrote his normal senses. Then he flew up clear of the benches so any fire he drew wouldn't go toward the bystanders. "Mad Science Bangarang!" he shouted, throwing a hand palm-out toward Blaze. The aperture on his gauntlet irised open and T.I.G.H.T.S. fed back into his muscles, adjusting Isaac's aim in countless small ways as the emitter charged and fired a beam of light that seemed to twist in on itself and something unseen as it streaked toward the villain.
Fixed.
Round 1 Init 13.
And Harry still didn't think Isaac understood the concept of trials and prisons. It was enough to make him think of a good way to redirect the sun's photon emissions and turn it into a giant, stationary Death Star. Great. She had his file. She had seen his work. And she still pulled this? But Isaac endured it, following her silently up to the trial like a good boy. He made it through security without saying anything, which should really get him time off his probation, and sat down beside Harry just as expected. Within ten minutes, Isaac was tapping his leg with his fingers. Harry was such an idiot. She knew this would trigger him. Was she trying to make a supervillain? He could only write schematics in his head for so long and the pills were three hours back. The gun came out and Isaac sighed in relief. He upended his sports bottle, Go Rams, and T.I.G.H.T.S. came slithering out over his lap. There goes the secret identity. Didn't even get to out myself to Jared. "I checked. This doesn't violate my probation," Isaac told Harry as the blue and silver polymers flowed down his legs and up his chest. His civilian clothing came up through the suit thread by thread, thoroughly disassembled and slightly burned by the transit. Doing this a lot could get expensive.
I was Pat, but I see that name's already been taken. I write this blog thing about the middle decades of nineteenth century America, with occasional diversions elsewhere. For the past year or so it's largely been a microhistory of Bleeding Kansas. I'm on track to finish out 1855 by the end of next month, I hope.
Isaac sat down opposite Harriet, slouching a little and setting his bottle down on the floor. "It's ok. The stupid pills still knock me out for a while, but I'm keeping on top of the training. Coach would have my ass and I'm still using my ass. Still doing the camera thing with him too. It helps, but I don't watch the feed anymore. You think they could get me on a lower dose if-" Isaac stopped himself. "Actually no, bad idea. No negotiating, right?" Harry used to say that to him all the time. "Good days and bad days, you know. Last weekend I got hung up for a while thinking about Jerry Rowcroft. My fault. I don't get to feel bad about feeling bad. His leg..." Crushed under a wall. Jerry's new one came with the older brother of T.I.G.H.T.S.' neural interface to help control it, donated anonymously. But it wasn't his leg. "So, you know. Did the usual power of five stuff: five mile run. Five laps in the pool. Ended up running a brick on Sunday. Puked. I was ok Monday. Got to work on time, way ahead of deadlines. Been thinking about doing a real triathlon since I'm kind of training for it anyway. No doomsday device ideas I couldn't ignore. You?" Finished the flight controls on my space tights. Flew last night. Better than sex. Met some heroes. You?
It is. And Isaac has a new pic on the Portal. It's not quite as smooth as I'd like, but I stared at the options long enough back in the day to know that my only other option for shiny tights looks more like greased latex.
Isaac Charles Cooper planned to run to the court house. Then he remembered that he would sweat and sweat would smell and some people didn't like that. Also Harry didn't consider his running clothes decent. An irrational prejudice against spandex in this town? Really, Harry? Instead, Isaac dressed in the best compromise he could manage between good taste and Harry's weird fetishes. If he wore the suit again, someone was getting plasma blasted. Maybe him. Fitted polo shirt. Khakis. Done. He took T.I.G.H.T.S. out of his sink and poured it into a black sports bottle. Anybody who saw it would think he was a Ram. Or a former Ram. Or a supporter of the Rams. Candace Dieztler's son Frank, age fourteen, black hair, brown eyes, kind of short, three years without her, went there. He joined the swim team, so Isaac's bottle had a little swimmer on it. They sucked. The boys last won a meet in 2005. Frank's fund would get him through two years of community college, but Isaac's patent royalties should have that sorted out by the time he graduated. Coach said the kid had potential if he stuck with it. Most don't. Isaac hoped Frank stuck with it, or dropped it but didn't pick up a ball sport. He was already on the hook for four basketball and football teams. Swimming he could relate to. That and track. Hair combed? Close enough.
And the pills. Isaac spread out his doses in front of the mirror and turned on the camera. Coach would check. Sixteen pills and a tall glass of water. One by one, he palmed them, popped them in his mouth, swallowed, and showed his tongue to the lens. The gray fog hit him three-quarters of the way through, like it always did, and Isaac's eyes went blank. His mouth dropped slightly open and motions slowed. The last four slipped into his mouth and down his throat. Then Isaac stood motionless and utterly vacant, drool sliding down his chin. Then words oozed through the fog again and he wiped his face clean. Time? Half an hour gone. Not enough left to walk, but plenty with a cab. Fly instead? The courthouse roof had to be locked down. Where would he change? The alley where the cops brought prisoners in? Naked ginger found behind courthouse. Film at eleven. Cab it was. Why did Harry always schedule these things in the middle of his run time? It threw the whole day off. Now Isaac would have to do double laps tonight. Maybe triple, if the wait was long.
I ported over his avatar. His armored face is, by his own design, quite bland and I couldn't find anything I liked for it. No eyes, mouth, nose, just a general smoothly curved silver front with finlike antenna ears. ...A few years ago I could have made him easily in City of Heroes. But that's no more. :(
T.I.G.H.T.S. struck what Isaac imagined was a dashing pose. He floated above the ground, legs and arms spread and with his gauntlets glowing. He looked like a very bare Christmas tree.
"Parker! My databanks include your work," Isaac said. "I am T.I.G.H.T.S.: Total Integrated General Hero Tactical System. My mysterious origins may include teenagers, mad science, aliens, and/or robots." "We're not together. We are, but not together-together. Together spatially, not organizationally. The imprecision of human language often confuses my possibly alien, robotic, and/or teenage mind. Are you satisfied with your care?"
"He's got audio recording too," Isaac said. He flew over with Waveform. "Hey Press! We come in peace. Or piece. One of them. Two. Make it four. Four is how numbers work we are all individuals I'm not. Have you heard from my pen pal in Nulgorsk? I think he went into the dog park." He waved as though from across a vast field, a huge motion with his full arm, from all of five feet away.
"I could be a poorly-programmed robot. They installed Bing instead of Google. And I've got an Ask Jeeves toolbar. I'd show it to you, but displaying bloatware in mixed company is considered rude among my people. Also as a teenage alien robot, I just don't pay attention in sch-" Oh. She's gone off. Was there a social cue or something? Pfft.
Isaac rolled his eyes, not that anybody could see it, and flew over with his body upright. "Hi Ares. Hi Other Guy. I'm T.I.G.H.T.S., maybe a robot, maybe a mad scientist in space tights, maybe an alien, maybe a teenager with a costume fetish. There's evidence for each theory." Isaac said, waving. "And for the record, this isn't really metal. I, and/or my teenage alien creators, used mostly petroleum-derived polymers. I'm only 10% metal by mass. Bummer if they ever pass a container refund law."
T.I.G.H.T.S. looks snug and supporting, but flexible. Just as he should be. :)
"I was a junior member, so I was usually on the periphery. Plus, I'm not a puncher." A jet of water shoots up from the river into the air, close enough so T.I.G.H.T.S. can see the power, but far enough that it's obviously not intended to hit him. "I'm going to guess that you aren't a teenager with a costume fetish. You're attempting to make jokes, so you aren't a robot. I understand the jokes, so you aren't an alien. I'm going with Mad Scientist." Isaac watched the jet go by, idly calculating the force behind it. That could hurt. "I could be a very well-programmed robot. Programmed by aliens. Teenage aliens. With fetishes. Why do people think robots have no sense of humor? That's potentially prejudiced against my people. But yeah, same here. Plasma emitters. Isaac opened a palm and showed her the irising aperture. Without giving it any power. He wanted the first time he melted someone's face to be on purpose. As he spoke, Isaac looked past the splash to the waterfront.
"You know a giant guy dressed like an extra from 300, minus the fur speedo, plus a depressingly mammary-free breastplate back in Chicago? Steroids. Pro wrestler steroids, not Coach with something to prove. Possibly turn you into a fish monster steroids."
[b]"Nice one," Isaac said. "I'm T.I.G.H.T.S. First-timer. Maybe a mad scientist in space tights. Maybe a robot. Possibly alien. Could be a weird teenager with a costume fetish. Not sure which is cooler. Ever get to punch anybody famous?"
Big damn hero incoming!
Next invention: time travel device that works for fictional universes. Isaac needed to abduct and probe Ginsberg. Or did it have to be time travel? Maybe fictional universes happened in a continuous present? Second thought: probably more fun to make an AI-driven system that mined the source material. Then he could literally take Ginsberg home with him. Or that guy Betty had sleazy bathroom sex with. Him first. Wasn't he on Chuck too? Him first. Isaac wheeled around and turned for HIT, debating the best way to tell Jared about T.I.G.H.T.S. It's not a fetish!
Flying over the river, Isaac saw a wave with a person on it. He could have his first fight with a hero! Or it might actually be a villain, but really you didn't get to be a hero until you committed aggravated assault on a fellow hero. It was in the rulebook in Isaac's head. T.I.G.H.T.S. swooped down, only a few meters above the water, and matched speed as he flew alongside the wave. "Hey Hang Ten, how's the surf? I'm a new and unfamiliar guy in spandex. By the ancient customs of my people we must immediately distrust each other, with violence!" he said in his most chipper voice. "After several million dollars of property damage, we will discover a shared enemy wearing secondary colors and possibly with a skull head who did just slightly more property damage. We fight aforementioned enemy while trading amusing banter. Also there may be sexual tension and exploitative posing of bodies. I'll pose first?" Isaac flexed his arms in something that might have passed for a bodybuilder's pose.
Confession: I poured points into Knowledge (pop culture) entirely so Isaac could make media free associations. :)
Dr. Isaac Charles Cooper, PhD Cubed, had the security clearance to be on the roof of Savage Solutions. The T.I.G.H.T.S. did not quite fit the company dress code, but they'd given up on enforcing that on Isaac. Nobody with half a brain would let him near a customer or some visiting VIP. The company? They got him. Good thing too, since grad students twice his age used to live in fear of Isaac's sense of humor. Plus it got hot in that lab sometimes and he put a very clear Do Not Disturb sign on the door. You accidentally moon sixteen undergrads and they start thinking you're a deviant! It was almost as bad as the time they found the left half of that cat in the fridge. Wonderful creatures. Isaac should get a cat. Not to dissect, but maybe he could open up the skull and install a transparent dome? The Visible Cat Brain. Why did he never think of that at the barber? When was the last time he'd been to a barber? Oh right, age four. Isaac got that burn from the UV light. Good times. But...here he was. All suited up and nowhere to go. All the systems checked out, or Isaac assumed they had before he started for the edge at a full run. If anybody asked, he would tell them that. Real geniuses didn't need to run system checks. This was Mad Science, not your granny and a test tube in adult diapers. He leaped out into open air, arms spread wide, and plummeted headfirst toward the pavement six floors below. "Bangarang!" he screamed as concrete rushed up. The radio came to life with the theme from the Neverending Story. Perfect timing! Blue light flared around the suit as the antigraviton generators came to life. Local gravity bent around Isaac and his fall turned horizontal exactly one centimeter short of impact. Isaac let out a wordless howl as he spun on his longitudinal axis, facing the brilliant stars in their ultraviolet glory. "Harry Potter can kiss my ass!" He told the sky as he turned again and gained altitude, two meters short of colliding with the security fence. Isaac took himself well above the clouds and lost more than an hour plunging, swooping, spinning, and turning in less than the radius of a dime. Oh right. He meant to patrol. How did you patrol? Just flying around looking for trouble seemed very improbable, but Isaac was a maniac in space tights. Probability could get in line behind Potter. He flew back beneath the clouds, picked a street at random, and swept it at visual range. Then another. Another. He should go to a high crime area. Maybe somewhere with gangs ready to shoot anything blue and glowing in the sky! Would have been a good idea to research that before heading out, but that would have meant not taking his maiden flight for another few minutes. Then the security guard might have come by and caught him half-dressed. Four times in one week was enough, thought to be fair three-quarters of those took place because the guard took it on himself to investigate "strange noises" in the lab. How many times did it take normal people to learn something? Honestly, if he'd been slaving over a hot miniaturized particle accelerator harvesting antiprotons for six hours, he'd lose the shirt too. More than four; that's how many it took. Isaac should have a battle cry. Time to put on some T.I.G.H.T.S!
Not even a kitten in a tree, though Isaac did see an owl get a rat. Pretty good, but not enough to make him want wings. Bangarang. Definitely bangarang. Behold the new face of failure?
TIGTS do you have hero labs? or do I need to make the character? I do not have Hero Lab. Sorry. :(
Sorry for the delay. Unexpectedly exhausting day. I plain missed the second clause of the impervious house rule and thought we just had a cap of 5 regardless. Anyway, fixed now. I put the extra PP into his fort save to keep things simple. Sheet updated in profile and on the Portal.
I think my stats are in order on the profile now. I had to sacrifice some formatting to fit all the senses in. Also, I don't have Hero Labs to provide a file from. :(
T.I.G.H.T.S. can work as a gadgeteer if necessary. He built his own tights. :) I've got Invention and capped knowledge and crafts. Came pretty close to making a speedster, actually. But the initial idea didn't really work as an adult and I lost enthusiasm for the project when I saw one of the NPCs in Freedom City has almost exactly the same flavoring on the powers. Did not seriously consider making a magical guy.
"Hi, citizens!" T.I.G.H.T.S. waved awkwardly. "I'm your Science Hero, here to save the day with the power of my Total Integrated General Hero Tactical System. You can call me T.I.G.H.T.S." "You know I'm a hero, because I'm in T.I.G.H.T.S.! Everybody who wears T.I.G.H.T.S. is a hero, from male ballet dancers to steroid-abusing professional wrestlers! Would you like to know more about my T.I.G.H.T.S.? Are you really inappropriately curious? So am I! I got bit by a radioactive nerd and this is what happened. I think he had some really specific things he was into." T.I.G.H.T.S. looked around. "Usually someone has told me to leave by now. I'm...not sure what happens next. Are any of you evil? Because I can blast you with my plasma beams if you are. If not, I think maybe I'm going to carve my initials into the moon."
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