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Earning Her Stripes (Worm AU fanfic)

Discussion in 'Creative Writing' started by Ack, Jan 4, 2020.

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  1. Simonbob

    Simonbob Really? You don't say.

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    Knowing Taylor, she'd end up running the group herself.

    While hating them.

    Heh.
     
  2. Metallix666

    Metallix666 Versed in the lewd.

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    it's going to be something like captain America's shield, isn't it?

    still, its interesting seeing how Emma and Madison having powers will change the dynamic between them all
     
  3. Threadmarks: Part Five: The Real Thing
    Ack

    Ack (Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)

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    Earning Her Stripes
    Part Five: The Real Thing

    [A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

    Team Base
    One Week Later
    Emma


    Madison cleared her throat. “Okay, I know I called you in at short notice, but I’ve been working on both offensive and defensive items for you, Emma—”

    “What’d you do with ’em?” interrupted Sophia, leaning against the wall with her arms folded.

    “What?” Madison looked guiltily around at the dark-clad girl. “What did I do with what?”

    “Not what, who. The Merchants who crashed the party. Remember? Last week?” Sophia uncrossed her arms and took a few steps toward Madison. “I can’t hear their bitching, and there’s no fast-food bags lying around anymore.” A nasty grin spread across her face. “Holy shit, did you finally woman up and do what had to be done?”

    “Oh, no.” Emma shook her head, a feeling of dread sweeping down her spine. “Madison, what have you done?”

    Madison looked from one of them to the other, panic building in her voice and on her face. “I didn’t have any choice!” she blurted. “We couldn’t keep them locked up in the shipping container forever, and I was running low on money to buy them fast food! Besides, no matter how many wet wipes I gave them, they refused to keep themselves clean! It was horribly unhygienic in there!”

    Emma stared at her friend, hoping against hope that her horrible suspicions were unfounded. Madison hadn’t seemed to be taking after Sophia’s bloodthirsty ways, but she could never be sure. “Madison, you didn’t … did you?”

    Sophia bared her teeth. “You did, didn’t you?” She seemed to be positively gloating over the moment.

    “I had to let them go!” wailed Madison. “I’m sorry! I couldn’t see anything else to do!”

    Emma blinked, unsure about what she’d just heard. “What.”

    Sophia stared at Madison, apparently even more taken off guard than Emma. “You’re shitting me.”

    “They would’ve died in there!” protested Madison. “Or gotten really sick and then died! I’m not a murderer! I didn’t want to let them go, but—”

    She was cut off when Emma grabbed her in a tight hug. “You did the right thing, Mads,” the redhead told her fervently, relief surging through her entire body. “We couldn’t hold them forever, and killing them out of hand would’ve made us worse than them.”

    “What the fuck?” Sophia’s voice overrode Emma’s. “Have the both of you gone fuck-knuckle crazy? Am I the only sane one here? Letting them go was the worst thing you could’ve done! Had you forgotten that the Merchants have fucking capes? They’re probably on the way back here right now, and it won’t be to fuckin’ say thank you for letting our guys go. If they get their hands on you, you’ll be lucky if you just end up on the street, turning tricks for your next fix!”

    Emma let go of Madison. She opened her mouth to snap at Sophia, but Madison got her oar in first. “That’s exactly why I called you guys in,” she said crisply. “I’ve got basic motion sensors set up for three blocks around, and if that blinking light on my screen is right, they just hit the outer perimeter.” She headed off to one of her work benches.

    “So what do we do?” asked Emma, following her.

    “Well, I’ve been working on something for you.” Madison picked up something from the bench and held it out to her. “This wristband goes on your right wrist.” With a grunt, she pulled a near-identical band off a metal disc that was lying on the bench. “And this one goes on your left wrist.”

    Emma examined the wristbands. They were more like bracers, long enough to cover her forearms altogether. Made of linked metal, they were heavy, but not so heavy that she couldn’t handle it. Putting the appropriate one around her right forearm, she pressed it closed and felt it click into place. She repeated the action with the other one, then swung her arms around to test the weight. As she’d thought, she could handle it. As a bonus, her forearms were now protected, and she could bash targets with them.

    “Nice,” she said appreciatively, then looked at the discs Madison was now holding. “And those attach to the bands?” She’d already taken note of the bracket on the back of each forearm.

    “Got it in one.” Madison handed Emma the discs and the redhead clicked them into place on her arms. They added noticeably to the weight, but Emma thought it was still acceptable. Plus, the discs now gave her much more protection against incoming attacks.

    “I like it.” Emma took hold of the left-hand disc with her right hand and figured out how to detach it. Hefting it a couple of times, she turned to face the nearest wall. Pulling the disc back, she gave it a sharp flick. It blurred across the intervening distance, then rebounded sharply with a loud clang. Reaching up, she snatched it out of the air and reattached it to her left forearm, all in one motion. “Scratch that,” she said with a wide grin. “I love it.”

    A red light started flashing and a low tone sounded. Madison looked around. “That’s the near perimeter alarm,” she said. “They’re on the same block as us.”

    “I fuckin’ told you,” Sophia said viciously. She waved her hand at Emma while focusing her attention on Madison. “All the bouncy throwing discs in the world aren’t gonna make up for the fact that you can’t fight. We’re good, but there’s only two of us.”

    “Who said I can’t fight?” Madison headed over toward a metal crate that was almost as high as she was.

    “What are you gonna do?” Sophia wasn’t letting this go. “Hide from them?”

    “Not exactly.” Madison slapped a panel on the crate. It began to unfold, then stopped. Madison climbed up into it, then hit another panel. As it resumed the process, Emma watched as Madison was sealed in behind a couple of inches of the shimmering gray metal the Tinker called ‘good steel’. By the time the articulated suit finished rearranging itself, it was eight feet tall, angular arms and legs flexing and moving around as Madison activated them. A blocky ‘head’ with glowing red eyes looked down at them. Heavy-duty rubberised hoses led from connectors in the shoulders to halfway down the ‘biceps’. Similar hoses connected the ‘thighs’ to the ‘calves’.

    “Power armour.” Emma finally found her voice. “You made power armour.”

    “Mark One,” Madison’s voice was gravelly and metallic over the speakers. “This one’s pretty minimal compared to what I’ll be able to make with real resources, but it should do for the time being.”

    Sophia spoke up. “Those hoses on the arms and legs are a weak point. You do know people will target them, right? Your fancy-dancy power armour won’t be worth shit if you can’t move your legs or arms.”

    Emma hated to admit it, but she had a point. The hoses did look extremely vulnerable. When faced with a Brute-style opponent, capes were notorious for going after any weak points they could see. And those hoses, even as thick and reinforced as they were, shouted ‘target’ to Emma’s fighting instincts.

    “Why don’t you let me worry about that.” Even with the electronic distortion, Madison’s irritation was clearly audible.

    Just then, a bulky vehicle smashed in through the front roller-door. A resounding BOOM came from the door at the far end of the warehouse, and Emma spun around.

    “Shit!” she blurted. “They’re coming at us from both directions!” It was a classic military pincer manoeuvre, and she cursed herself for not anticipating it. Just because the Merchants were perpetually drug-fucked didn’t mean they couldn’t accidentally pull off something like this.

    The front of Squealer’s vehicle split open, the two sides hinging apart to allow the exit of a huge shambling vaguely humanoid mass of trash. Several men armed with pipes, chains and clubs followed him out.

    “Fuck,” Sophia said. “That’s Mush.”

    “I know,” Madison said. “You two go deal with the others. I got this.” She started toward the animated trash heap, her long metallic legs eating up the distance.

    “Shit,” Emma said, agonising over the need to protect her friend and the equally strong need to defend their base. The yelling as Merchants flooded into the building from the far end decided her; if she stood and did nothing, they’d win automatically. Turning, she sprinted toward the incoming wave of invaders. She couldn’t see Sophia anywhere, so she figured the more experienced vigilante had gone to shadow and was working around for a flank attack. It was what she’d do.

    The first Merchants she met were not the ones she’d encountered on their first foray. They saw a teenage girl running at them and came to meet her. This didn’t go well for them; her throwing discs packed a real punch at close range, and while she avoided head shots (she didn’t want to kill them after all) she found that body hits put them on the ground just as fast. Leg shots were a little harder, but a broken femur or kneecap was ideal for removing them from the equation. It was also possible, she found, to backfist someone with the wristband while waiting for the throwing-disc to return. The heavy metal packed a very gratifying impact, almost as good as hitting someone with the discs.

    Finally, she saw Sophia, perched on top of a shipping container (one of the few remaining in the base) as she shot arrows at the Merchants. Some of her targets were down and screaming, while others were ominously quiet. Emma gritted her teeth; it seemed that the harder she pushed Sophia to tone down her aggression for the heroic image, the more Sophia was determined to push back. Sophia was her friend and teammate, but they were going to have to have words about this at some point. Sooner rather than later.

    Abruptly, she felt her traction vanish as her feet went out from under her. Looking down as she kicked herself into the air, she saw a field covering the ground, blue fading to violet. With the last of her upward impetus, she tucked into a roll then dropped a disc on the ground and landed on it with both feet. Upright, bending her knees for maximum flexibility, she surfed Skidmark’s field to where it petered out rather than being spat out like trash.

    At the far end of the field, the Merchant leader himself invited her to do something anatomically impossible (not to mention disgustingly perverted) while he dumped a bucket of gravel into the skid-field. Emma kicked up the disc and caught it as she dived out of the way; crouching, she hid behind the discs, catching the few pieces that came her way on the shields.

    “Fuck you, Skidmark!” yelled Sophia, levelling her crossbow at the costumed villain. Emma made the calculation on the instant; Sophia was going for a headshot. A lethal attack. Not on my watch.

    In another instant, she had both throwing-discs in hand. One went upward at an angle, soaring in front of Sophia just as she triggered the crossbow. The other whiffed past Skidmark, making him duck and curse. The arrow hit the first disc and shattered on impact, while the second disc hit the wall behind Skidmark and bounced back to smack him solidly (but not too solidly) on the back of the head. The field dissipated as he collapsed bonelessly to the ground.

    “What the fuck?” yelled Sophia. “I had him! What the hell was that?”

    “I just saved you from a murder charge,” Emma retorted sharply. She headed forward and checked his pulse; it was strong and steady. A large squared-off roofing beam lay just inside the doorway. She guessed he’d used it as a battering ram to get the door open.

    “Make yourself useful and secure him. And make sure the others are still alive. I’m gonna go help Madison.” Both her throwing discs had fallen nearby (by design, not accident) and she took the time to retrieve them before heading toward the other end of the warehouse.

    She wasn’t sure what she would find when she got there. Madison’s armour had looked sturdy enough to take a bit of punishment; with any luck, she would’ve kept Mush busy until Emma got there to deal with matters. Firmly, she kept herself from imagining the worst. The armour disabled and cracked open, with Madison as a hostage or dead. No. She builds better than that.

    A few moments later, she learned just how true that was. When she negotiated the intervening obstacles and came in sight of the intruding vehicle. Madison was nowhere in sight, and Mush was gone as well … no. He was still there. A skinny little bald man was lying groaning in among several large heaps of trash. He looked more than a little red in the face and chest, for what reason, Emma had no idea. The few other Merchants who had come in with the vehicle looked like they’d been clubbed to the ground with each other.

    Sounds of complicated destruction came from within the vehicle, while the engine revved loudly. Caterpillar tracks attempted to drag the monstrosity back out of the hole, but the doors that had swung wide open in the nose were now stuck in that position, bent far back and jammed. As such, they prevented the vehicle from retreating.

    As Emma prepared to enter the vehicle, the engine cut out altogether. “Uh … M?” she called out into the resulting silence.

    Call me Blockade,” Madison’s electronic vocaliser replied. Heavy footsteps sounded from within the darkness of the vehicle. Emma saw the glowing red eyes before the rest of the suit emerged from the shadows. Once Madison came fully into the light, Emma saw that she was carrying a trashily dressed woman by the scruff of the neck. The woman looked somewhat dazed, and her goggles were shattered. Both of Madison’s shoulder hoses were detached at the bicep end, and flopped around loosely. This didn’t seem to be impairing her movement in any way.

    “Did you want me to reattach those?” asked Emma, pointing at one of the hoses.

    “Nah.” Madison tossed the feebly moving Squealer onto a pile of garbage next to Mush. “They’re only decoys anyway. Mush pulled them loose and got a face full of live steam.” As Emma watched, the hoses straightened up, aimed briefly at her, then reconnected themselves to their attachment points.

    “Live steam?” she couldn’t help asking. “Why do you have live steam in your suit? What do you need that for?”

    “Smartasses who think they can cheat by hitting my weak points.”

    Emma wanted to burst out laughing but she couldn’t afford to, right then. “Okay,” she said bemusedly. “We seem to have captured the Merchants. What do we do now?”

    Madison made a motion like cracking her knuckles. “Only one choice. We go live as a superhero team, and hand them over to the PRT. Two birds, one stone.”

    “Hey, that is not your damn decision!” Sophia, sounding pissed off (as usual) came stomping in from the far end of the warehouse. “They’re secured. Now we gotta decide what to do with them. Not just one person deciding for all three of us.”

    “That’s easy.” Emma grinned. “I vote we do what Blockade just said. Now we’ve got a majority voting for that.”

    “Whoa, wait just a second.” Sophia tried to stare her down. “I’m more experienced. I should have more say.”

    Madison made a rude noise via her speakers. “What was that about ‘not just one person deciding for us all’?”

    “She’s right,” Emma decided as Sophia gave Madison’s battle armour a death glare. “The vote’s in. Two to one.”

    “One question, though.” Madison sounded thoughtful. “What are we gonna call ourselves?”

    “I think we’re moving way too fast with this, but if we’re gonna do it, we’re gonna need a good name,” Sophia declared. “We need to show people we’re the real thing, not some bunch of wannabe losers, even if some of us are luckier than they’ve got any right to be.” She divided her glare evenly between Emma and Madison.

    “Got it!” Emma exclaimed, snapping her fingers and ignoring Sophia’s bitching. The girl, she was learning, hated to lose, even to teammates. “That’s the perfect name.”

    “What?”

    “What?”

    “The Real Thing. That’s what we’ll call ourselves.”

    There was a pause, then Madison nodded. “I like it.”

    “Sophia?” asked Emma. There was no point in picking a name that all three of them didn’t approve of. Of course, given that Sophia had said it first …

    “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Sophia waved her hand dismissively. “It’s not a terrible name.”

    “Great! It’s settled.” Emma looked over at Madison. “How fast can you help me throw together a costume?”

    “Depends.” Madison headed over to her nearest workbench. “What did you have in mind?”

    Emma went with her, leaving Sophia to secure the prisoners. “Well, the bad guys have already seen my hair, so I was thinking of a flame-themed costume to go with it, and maybe call myself Firebird, but with a wig over my hair that’s longer than my normal hair …”

    “Doable.”

    “And can you put a flame motif on my throwing discs? They’re amazing, by the way.”

    “Easily.”

    Emma clapped her hands. “Okay, then. Let’s get this show on the road.”



    End of Part Five
     
  4. TMTMTM

    TMTMTM Directed by Dick Wolf

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    This sure is a nice little house of cards they are building. Sure would be a shame if something were to happen to it.
     
  5. Simonbob

    Simonbob Really? You don't say.

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    Oh, Sophia.

    They're trying to become actual hero's. And, you?


    You aren't.
     
  6. KillingYouNicely

    KillingYouNicely Meh.

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    I'm almost certain I know what Taylor's power is going to be, and when they give it to her, holy shit they're going to regret it.
     
  7. GladiusLucix

    GladiusLucix Versed in the lewd.

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    I'm half expecting that Sophia will be the only one that wants to go through with the original plan when the time comes, while Emma and Madison try to rescue Taylor from the locker.
     
  8. Scopas

    Scopas I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    You mean the murky grey fluid with floating white and black bits? Are you thinking
    Greyboy?
     
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  9. TMTMTM

    TMTMTM Directed by Dick Wolf

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    Im thinking something a bit more striped, personally. The title seems just a bit too perfect for it.
     
  10. Scopas

    Scopas I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    Yeah, that's the obvious choice, and probably the correct choice, but in terms of revenge for what The Trio are planning to inflict upon her I think my guess could work, and would be more interesting.

    Manton losing his daughter and wanting/needing her back was the impetus for him gaining powers and for the manifestation of the Siberian projection. The Siberian projection, and the pseudo Siberian 2nd stage Grue generated, both had black and white patterns distinguishing the projection.

    Gray Boy's exact circumstances are left ambiguous, but he is a Shaker, not a Master. While Masters often result from trauma involving isolation, Shakers result from a literal or figurative interaction with the surrounds or environment. Gray Boy is also explicitly noted for appearing in greyscale, surrounded by floating notes of grey and white, and often a ghostly double facing a different direction. If Taylor triggers as a result of a bullying incident more violent then her canon trigger, and is triggered by a handful of Cape heroes, which she would likely hold symbolic of the crumbling world around her, a desire to escape from her surrounding environment could lead to a natural Shaker trigger, or a thematic induced Shaker trigger.

    Admittedly, I am a fan of Gray Boy's horror story powers, and I think that it'd be way more interesting to see how Taylor uses them compared to the less interesting Siberian trump/master/breaker power set. That said, if Taylor just really wants a friend to save her and keep her company, and the projection takes the form of The-Emma-That-Was, well, that could be interesting indeed...
     
  11. TMTMTM

    TMTMTM Directed by Dick Wolf

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    Honestly I'm suspecting that the middle man will get cut out here and Taylor might just get the full package rather than a master projection, which would not only be ironic but also very fitting with the story name. Mainly cause this is a vial, and vials are essentially author fiat in a can as far as powers go.
     
  12. Scopas

    Scopas I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    I do wonder, what happens if somebody in the middle of a natural trigger is given a Cauldron vial? Probably death, but with some author fiat, that doesn't have to be!
     
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  13. Ack

    Ack (Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)

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    One or the other would kick in first. Whichever one it was would have its effect.
     
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  14. BengelHa

    BengelHa Not too sore, are you?

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    I'm of the opinion that Ack might be making an Avengers expy team, making Taylor likely to get a power closer to the Hulk, or maybe something like Wanda's or Pietro's powers.

    The stripes in the title would refer to the story protagonist, Emma, becoming more like MCU Cap, instead of the broken girl we saw in canon Worm.
     
  15. Ack

    Ack (Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)

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    Y'know, this keeps coming up. And I keep having to squash it.

    I am not emulating the Avengers here.

    to repeat:

    I AM NOT EMULATING THE AVENGERS HERE.

    Emma is not Captain America.
    Madison is not Iron Man.
    The concepts of 'peak physical human' and 'powered armour' were around before Marvel got ahold of them.

    Xena throws chakram. Batman throws batarangs.

    Heinlein wrote about powered armour in Starship Troopers (the book, not the movie) four years before Iron Man debuted in the comics.

    These were not original concepts when Marvel created characters around them.

    And The Real Thing is not intended to emulate the Avengers.

    Okay? Okay. Good. Thank you.
     
  16. WiseSkulker

    WiseSkulker Know what you're doing yet?

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    Yeah the starship Troopers movie Lacking the powered armor... Just didnt seem right. Also I do Beleive Master Chief in Worm would be total overkill. PROBABILITY MANIPULATION. Also tattletale probably wouldnt be able to read him.
     
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  17. Scopas

    Scopas I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    I dunno, I don't think Master Chief is broken for the Wormverse, considering how broken things like Crawler are. All the powered armor in the world or combat thinking can't keep you safe when you're taken unaware by a hard counter power, after all.
     
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  18. Rentoba

    Rentoba Shocked Panda

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    IIRC the third Starship Troopers movie had a vaguely accurate rendition of the books power armor in it. Vaguely.

    The game also had the player character in power armor of some sort though I don't believe it was remotely similar to the books descriptions.

    I could be wrong about that though as it's been many years since I read the book.
     
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  19. doomlord9

    doomlord9 Experienced.

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    Tattletale can read Endbringers who return null messages to the vast majority of Thinkers. There is little to nothing her power is unable to work on.

    This is because her power is not external. It is entirely focused upon her own memory because she triggered by trying to find out if she missed any signs that her brother was going to commit suicide. All it does is extremely rapidly analyze and deduce information from anything that exists within her memory.

    The only way anything is immune to her power is for her to either be absolutely unable receive any sensory information of any sort from the subject, thus not having any data to analyze be input into her memory, or to be unable to form memories about the subject at all.

    Master Chief has no ability at either of these, however given that he is a super soldier it wouldn't do her much good at all since all she would really get is how fucked her and/or her team would be if they decide to fight someone designed to be a one-man army.
     
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  20. preier

    preier I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    Well I must say that seeing Madison and Emma replaced by beings that seem to actually try to be human is more rewarding than the summary made me fear.

    Seriously Ack... I noped five times after reading it before and the first chapter was exactly what I feared : written with your usual talent but dedicated to characters that I could NOT care less about.

    I've had less and less problem getting into the chapters since then, of course. I'm now getting close to my usual level of anticipation for your stories.

    Personal headcanon: Taylor has emigrated meanwhile to Canada and enlisted in the mounted police where she'll get up in ranks over the years. She'll never meet or hear of the three again. :p
     
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  21. WiseSkulker

    WiseSkulker Know what you're doing yet?

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    And who might as well be a Scion class threat all on his own what with his RIDICULOUS luck. And on to the part of being able to read him. Any facial movement or tells, muscle twitches, Eye movement, would be concealed by his armor. Ergo, damn near nothing for her power to go on. It would just tell her that hes extremely dangerous.
     
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  22. doomlord9

    doomlord9 Experienced.

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    I am just going to assume you're trolling saying Master Chief is anything less than a dozen orders of magnitude below Scion's level and move on.

    Tattletale herself uses her power primarily as a social tool. This is because (A) she is a teenage girl and social status is everything, (B) she was likely raised to be a rich socialite where popularity and celebrity is everything, and (C) she has absolutely horrible self-esteem like the vast majority of natural triggers but even more-so because soon after triggering her power confirmed that her parents do not and have never loved her, something that even the implication of keeps therapists across the world in business of even without being confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt.

    Her power is pretty good socially, but this is the single weakest way she could ever use her power. She even knows this and comments that Taylor would be far more effective with Tattletale's intuition because she would use it on the greatest potential it has, to deduce hard, unchanging physics data at a glance and become a Combat Thinker.

    If she were inclined she could watch his shield deflect as little as one or two pebbles and within seconds she would know exactly how many 9mm or 7.62 rounds it would take to drop his shields, the first touch of any sort of fire or electrical shock would let her know his shields are much more vulnerable to energy attacks than kinetics, his strength, speed, reflexes, field of vision, range of movement, ammo capacity, ammo caliber, armor durability, armor weak points, and anything else you would care to mention is available to Tattletale within seconds from nothing more than a glance.

    Tattletale herself simply doesn't look for those data sets and doesn't have the ability to utilize the data even if she did, but make no mistake if she had the mindset to do so and had access to someone who could use the data effectively she would be the single most dangerous enemy Master Chief or anyone could ever have.

    Tattletale is a prime example why the unofficial policy on Earth Bet is "Shoot the Thinker First" and it has nothing to do with her personality.
     
    Cubbyhb1, Simonbob, Scopas and 2 others like this.
  23. One-who-reads

    One-who-reads Illuminatus

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    I think its the indestructible, controlled ricochet, use them as shields, "disks" that make Emma feel so "Captain America". And anyone wearing power armor, while standing next to someone that looks like a Cap expy, is going to make people think "iron man expy".

    If it looks, walks, and quacks like a duck...

    There are far worse characters to model powersets off of.

    Looking forward to more of this.
     
  24. One-who-reads

    One-who-reads Illuminatus

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    Imagine, Taylor with the powers of Squirrel Girl.

    "The entire machine army vanished last night. Brockton Bay independent heroine Squirrel Girl had this to say:"

    "Eff tee eff why, winkyface!"
     
  25. Threadmarks: Part Six: Tests Passed and Failed
    Ack

    Ack (Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)

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    Earning Her Stripes

    Part Six: Tests Passed and Failed

    [A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

    Armsmaster

    “Console to Armsmaster.”

    “Go for Armsmaster.” Colin leaned the bike into a turn. It was responding well; the newer version of the ring-laser gyro gave it cleaner balance, and it recovered even keel just a little faster. He might have to look into moving the centre of gravity back about a foot, to give optimal grip for both the front and back tyres in all conditions, but this iteration of his iconic vehicle was holding up well.

    Action figures featuring the “Armscycle” accounted for thirty-seven percent more sales and fifty-three percent more profit than standalone figures, or so Marketing had told him. He didn’t care about that so much, but he did like it that the bike had its own recognition factor. It was all part of being an effective superhero.

    “Yeah, we got a call from near the Trainyards. Merchants territory. A bunch of new heroes apparently captured them, and they want to know who to turn them over to.”

    “Well, that’s different. Armsmaster, attending.”

    “I hear that. Copy Armsmaster attending. Sending you the location and details now.”

    His helmet speakers pinged to indicate an incoming file. With a flick of his eye, he opened it; it unfolded into a map with a flashing red dot somewhat to the north and west of his current location. His GPS filled in the rest of the information, and before he’d made the next turn, he had a glowing line on the map leading toward the red dot. At the same time, a broad yellow path appeared in his HUD, indicating the way forward.

    Trusting the bike to handle acceleration, braking and obstacle avoidance, he scanned through the packet of data that had arrived with the map. The caller had been a teenage girl, calling herself Firebird. No matches popped up in the database for that name, in Brockton Bay or elsewhere. She had claimed to be part of a team called The Real Thing. The only significant links to that online were in relation to music; either a song or an actual band. Neither one was helpful to him at the moment.

    Ten minutes later, he rounded a corner on to a dingy street, to see a bunch of people seated on the curb in a row. More than a few, he noted, bore bandages on their arms or legs. Others had their limbs actually splinted. All were secured in some way, either at the wrists or the ankles. One was in costume, though he was currently blindfolded and secured at both hand and foot. Colin recognised the grimy outfit immediately; Skidmark. A little distance away from him, her wrists and ankles likewise secured, a trashily-dressed woman wearing goggles (his HUD gave her a 95% chance of being Squealer) looked mad enough to chew up horseshoes and spit out nails. A third man, wizened and undernourished, had likewise been thoroughly secured. He surmised this might be Mush, from the few descriptions the PRT had of the man.

    “Armsmaster to Console. I’m just arriving on site now. It appears as though the Merchants have indeed been captured. There are injuries. I would advise that medical-trained personnel attend the pickup.” His eyes scanned the row of prisoners. The HUD, picking up on the motion, helpfully advised him that there were thirty-two persons sitting and three standing. A moment later, it stuttered to ‘two standing’, then back to three again.

    He wasn’t surprised by its lack of certainty. Of the three heroes standing behind the row of captives, two were quite apparently human. The third was an eight foot tall robot built of some shimmering grey metal with a blocky black shape on the chest that looked like the crenellations on the wall of a medieval fortress. The robot, or suit, looked far too clunky for his liking, and the hoses connecting one part to another spoke to him of poor planning. Still, he figured it wasn’t too bad for a first try, especially as they’d managed to capture the Merchants right out of the gate.

    The other two heroes were both recognisable as teenage girls, but he knew which one had made the call immediately. She had identified herself as Firebird, and only one there had a fire-themed costume. The other one, Shadow Stalker, had been making waves now and again with her brutal takedowns of muggers. It hadn’t gotten so far as to necessitate the PRT stepping in, but the possibility was not off the table yet.

    He pulled the bike to a halt and stepped off in one smooth motion. The bike maintained its upright stance after he let go the handlebars, then lowered its stand as part of its self-parking routine. Paying no attention to that, he stepped forward to inspect the prisoners more closely. They all looked awake and alert, though some seemed to be sweating or even tweaking. The bandages appeared to have been relatively freshly applied, and some had bloodstains on them.

    Next, his eyes flicked up to the three heroes of The Real Thing, if that was all of them. To have captured an entire active gang, even such a screwed-up one as the Merchants, was a good trick for two unknowns and a B-class loner vigilante to have pulled off.

    “Good morning,” he said. “This is good work. Do they have any life-threatening injuries?”

    The girl he was assuming to be Firebird, who looked about fifteen or sixteen, shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of. Some were suffering from blood loss, but we bandaged them and got food and water into them.” She stepped between two of the prisoners and held her hand out. “Firebird. I’m the one who made the call. You probably already know Shadow Stalker. And that’s Blockade.”

    He shook her hand, finally paying attention to the details of her costume. The broad discs attached to her forearms looked like they could be used as shields, but they seemed too unwieldy to be just good for that. Her knees and elbows, and the toes and heels of her boots, all had metal guards; on her head, she wore a metal helmet with a gold-coloured visor. Long red hair spilled out from under the back. Each metal piece, including the discs and the bracers they were attached to, had a fire motif that seemed to be based more on interference patterns than actual painted-on fire shapes, given the way the flames appeared to shift as his perspective changed. Underneath, she wore a black bodysuit that looked like it incorporated significant padding, and served to draw attention to the metal guards.

    “Armsmaster,” he said out of politeness. “But you knew that. So you have fire powers?”

    She chuckled. “No, it’s just my theme.” Lifting her arm, she showed him a short nozzle emerging from the wrist bracer. “I do have a short-ranged flamethrower in there, but there isn’t much room for fuel, so it’s mainly for emergencies. And surprise attacks. For the most part, I find that punching people works just fine, when I’m not bouncing my discs off them.”

    “Ah, so they detach.” He looked again at the discs. “Are they easy to learn how to handle?”

    “I wouldn’t know.” Her voice held subtle self-mockery. “Anything like this, I seem to automatically know how to use, like I’ve been training all my life to do it.”

    “Ah.” On an impulse, he reached back and unracked his halberd. With the correct signal, it unlocked and opened out to its full length. Another signal ensured that the various mechanisms within it would stay shut down until he woke it up. A third signal, not yet sent, would teleport it straight back to his hand if she did anything unwise with it. “What can you do with something like this?”

    Behind her visor, he saw her eyes widen, but she managed to hold back her reaction, beyond a slight parting of her lips. At the same time, Shadow Stalker rapped her knuckles against the leg of the robot and casually gestured their way.

    “Let me see,” Firebird murmured, taking the weapon and looking it over, then adjusting her grip as if she’d been … training with it all her life, she’d said. Even Miss Militia had required some instruction in how to hold it properly. Intrigued, he watched as the girl took a few steps away, then turned to face him. The halberd snapped into a vertical salute, then blurred in her hands into a complex evolution that incorporated strikes, parries, deflections and blocks, taken in lightning-fast sequence, never once interfering with the discs on her forearms.

    He watched, trying to prevent his jaw from dropping open as a girl half his age used his chosen weapon to perform manoeuvres that even he was only just getting the hang of, and some he’d flat-out never seen before. Finally, she brought it around to a whirling finish that ended in another salute, then she handed it back. “I figure I could make it work for me,” she allowed.

    Mentally, he blessed the fact that he’d had his helmet recording the whole thing. He had watched videos and read books on how halberds had been used in the Middle Ages, and considered himself to be more than just ‘good’ with it. But he’d just been schooled in no uncertain terms by a teenager who’d never picked one up before in her life. His software was able to take that visual footage and translate it into a training regime, and he was absolutely going to train with those moves that she’d just pulled out of nowhere, until he was at least as good as her.

    “That was very impressive,” he said gravely, fully aware that he had just committed blatant understatement. Causing the weapon to fold up again, he slotted it onto the rack on his back. “I’m going to presume Blockade is the Tinker who incorporated the armour into your costume?”

    That’s me.” The robot took a step forward, its voice gravelly over the speakers. “Firebird hits people. I make things for her to hit them with.” Buried under the electronic distortion was a certain amount of humour. “I like your halberd, but it looks a little fragile to me.”

    “I beg your pardon,” he retorted, stung. “That’s the finest miniaturised Tinkertech you’ll see on the east coast. There’s nothing ‘fragile’ about it.”

    “Oh, please,” retorted the person in the armour. “I bet I could break it just by stepping on it.”

    He looked the armour over, trying to calculate how much it weighed. Unless it was built over a light frame of aluminum, he figured it was at least a ton. “Well, of course,” he snorted. “That’s not ‘fragile’. That’s to be expected.”

    “Not for my stuff, it’s not,” Blockade stated flatly. “If I can break it, it’s not strong enough.”

    This call-out had suddenly gotten a lot more interesting. Colin’s Tinker instincts came to the fore as he raised his chin. “You always have to consider utility over durability. If it’s too heavy to be useful, then what’s the point of making it so strong?”

    “There’s no such thing as being too heavy to be useful,” averred Blockade. “If some jerk villain can break it with his powers, then it wasn’t strong enough.”

    Colin drew in a deep breath for his rebuttal, a smile spreading across his face despite himself. This was a true meeting of the minds. “But if you can’t lift or carry it easily, how can it be useful …”

    <><>​

    Emma

    As the argument went on, Emma found herself more and more impressed with Madison. Not only was she debating the finer points of Tinkertech with Armsmaster, she was doing it with confidence and the willingness to totally disagree with him on matters that were obviously dear to his heart. Not that she was winning the argument, if ‘winning’ meant turning him to her point of view; he’d been doing this for years, after all. But it seemed she was certainly forcing him to re-evaluate some of his stances.

    “Gotta say, never thought she had it in her,” murmured Sophia as the back-and-forth kept up between the two Tinkers. “If I was her, I’d be asking him for his autograph right now. Hell, I still might. The man knows how to lay on a beatdown.”

    Emma nodded, entirely in tune with her sentiment, though perhaps not every single aspect of it. She personally wondered if he would agree to spar with her at some point, if only to see what she could learn from someone who’d been doing the superhero thing for almost her whole life. Also, she’d give anything to be able to say that she’d sparred with Armsmaster. Just being able to handle his halberd and put it through a solid workout had been a dream come true.

    “I can see why he uses a halberd,” she replied, keeping her voice down. “It’s so versatile. There are so many possible moves. I mean, it’s not like a baseball bat or something. It’s good for offense and defense.”

    “Yeah, I saw the love affair you were having with it,” jibed Sophia derisively. “Do you think maybe if you showed off with it any more, he’d let you borrow it for a while? Because that’s what it looked like you were trying for, to me.”

    “It wasn’t like that!” Emma shot back, irritated. “It was just so well-balanced and properly constructed, I had fun using it.”

    “Hah, so that’s the way it is.” Sophia sounded amused. “Always wondered why you never got a steady boyfriend. You just had to find one with a long, hard—”

    “Don’t even go there,” hissed Emma furiously. She jabbed Sophia in the ribs, the metal elbow-guard catching her in just the right place to stop her from talking. “He’s old enough to be my dad.

    Sophia, caught off-guard, let out a whoof of expelled air. Lurching sideways a step, she put her arm up to where Emma had hit her. “Fine, be a wet blanket,” she wheezed. “Can’t even take a joke.”

    “There’s jokes, and then there was what you were about to say.” Emma shook her head. “That was rude, crude and not funny at all.”

    “Funny, you never had a problem with making jokes like that about Hebert.” Sophia sounded resentful, but she didn’t seem to be about to resume her remarks.

    Emma rolled her eyes. “That’s different, and you know it.

    She would’ve said more, but just then the first PRT van rolled around the corner. Clearing her throat, she stepped forward to keep an eye on her prisoners until the PRT took charge of them.

    Establish ourselves as a team. Check.

    The plan was proceeding apace.



    End of Part Six
     
    Last edited: Feb 23, 2020
  26. steamrick

    steamrick Matter: protons, electrons, neutrons and morons

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    I wonder what concessions Armsmaster would be willing to make just to get a bunch of all-around recordings of Emma doing some exercise/training routines with his Halbert without and with an outfit that equals to the range of motion and balance restricitions imposed by his power armour...

    Moving all of his little tinker addon systems around to move the center of balance that much sounds like an enormous amount of manhours spent for minimal gain. In other words, inefficient.
     
  27. Ack

    Ack (Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)

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    And therein lies the Armsmaster Paradox ...
     
  28. Scopas

    Scopas I trust you know where the happy button is?

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    This chapter definitely continues the pattern of Sophia attempting and failing to maintain power over Emma and Madison. Sophia's starting to slip up, too - if Emma can recognize her 'jokes' as not dissimilar to social bullying, then she's going to risk Emma realizing the nature of their new dynamic.

    Also, it might just be me, but Emma sounds a bit more prudish then I would have anticipated. Maybe it's different if you're a woman, but Sophia's joke didn't sound particularly perverse or over the line, judging by my memories of teenage trash talk.
     
  29. TMTMTM

    TMTMTM Directed by Dick Wolf

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    Its possible she has some aversion to intimacy from the trauma caused by the alleyway. I didn't catch that social bullying angle though, good eye! Makes me even more exited to see how shit falls apart.
     
  30. january1may

    january1may Versed in the lewd.

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    ...Could have fooled me.
    Though admittedly I'm not that familiar with the Avengers, so I might have missed some obvious difference.

    (Um, the team with Captain America and Iron Man in it is called the Avengers, right? For some reason I thought that was the Justice League, or possibly the Fantastic Four.)
    Pretty much this, on all of the above.
     
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