Madara: Mangekyou Master

Precisely. It's not really OP'ed, especially in an NPC. One just has to be more creative about identifying weaknesses. For instance, someone who is able to lower their density and become intangible will still have to see and hear, leaving them vulnerable to sonic or flash attacks. Another example: Even if "ghosting" reduces your molecular density to the point that bullets or solids pass through harmlessly, a fire burst should still be able to burn your particles.if you can't bullet or taser someone, find another way!

Ooc: xD we'll chalk it up to lingering effects of a concussion. IC- convention - NYC:The cop's hair, face, and upper body looked wet, a blend of perspiration, dirt, blood and an unidentifiable fluid. Chunks of glass clung to one side of his face. His leg had a large shard of metal embedded in it. In short, the man was a complete wreck. His eyes were watery, sweat and tears had turned them red. He kept his gun trained on the masked man, clearly struggling to stand. "Like HeII he is. Where's his badge?!"That's when the firebolt struck him. The flames impacted, and seemed to disperse for a second, before suddenly roaring outward.Apparently, the officer must have collapsed earlier the puddle of a broken Molotov cocktail. The police officer dropped his gun and tried to clutch his face, as the flames rapidly licked across his head and torso. Drops of flame fell from him, onto the ground below.Ooc: All hail the grimbright!

Oi! No one asked you, Admiral Ackbar. Eat fish sticks! JkActually though, pulling out because one of your guys got headshotted is a pretty reasonable thing to do.

It wasn't too dumb. The President is holding a convention on Mutant issues, an essential issue in the eyes of the American people (particularly with recent events like the Vegas attack). He has the best working defense, and it is important for him to show that he won't be intimidated. My impression is that this is basically a second term legacy agenda for him. Besides, you had an intangible (I assume you mean density controlling) Invisible Man who was this close to strolling right on in.

IC - Cambion - Lodge: "Looks like the game is up." Victor's eyes widened at the sound of his old num- name. The masquerade was pointless. It had been pointless from the moment he had run away. "I prefer Cambion. Anonymity is worth one's weight in gold. But you know all about hiding in shadows." His eyes grew hard, shifting from grey to brown, as he returned himself to his normal form. The young man steeled himself. "Not directly, but I can take a good guess. You were there, back at that heIIhole. You were never really out in the open. But as the Good Book says, "My sheep listen to my voice." And I know your voice." Maximoff passed the iPad over to Romulus. "The first twelve names on the list. You'll see that they are all genuine civilians. Accountants, construction workers, doctors, and waitresses. Salt of the earth. And one mutant hero's alter ego. I made a comparison of him in and out of costume. The details stack up." "You know, there were ghost stories, among us Weapons, about a berserker that lurked in the dark, an immortal monster that our masters would summon to eat memories and break wills. A beast that would watch us as the weak were culled." He raised two of his fingers from the hand holding the glass, then brought them back down. "We never did get your name though. Are you still working for those sadists in Canada, or have you found another employer?"The young man's face was deadly serious. "I swear, I'm not letting him drag me back there. I've tasted freedom, I'm not going back to being a slave." He felt the weight of Persson's gun, tucked away in its holster. Still, an utterly useless weapon in this circumstance. IC - Convention Hall - New York:A NYPD member, lying dazed upon the ground, was awakening from his stupor. The sound of the chopper still rang in his ears. He looked up, bleary-eyed through the carnage. Where was he? The last thing he had remembered was seeing a chopper tumble from the sky, trailing smoke and flames, before fragmenting into the square.There!There was a freak in biker gear with a fire flickering in his hands. One of those ****** muties trying to finish the job, no doubt. Where was his MP7? Gone. Gone. The officer, groaning in pain, was able to remove his sidearm, and raised it before firing at Burnblade. "Look out! He's armed!" The gunshots cracked repeatedly, as he fired. His squadmates were dead, there were wounded people all around him. It was carnage. "**** you, mutie."

Yay!! Looking forward to it.

IC - Brotherhood NPCs - New York: Supremacy head the whoosh of a rocket launcher firing, looking up in time to see the projectile smack straight into the cockpit of a news helicopter circling overhead. The bird dropped, and crashed nose first into the ground near the convention centre. The whirling blades fragmented as they cut into the concrete, sending a wave of sharp debris flying out into the retreating crowd and amongst the marines and police taking positions up front.

IC - Convention Hall - New York:"Thank you." The Sharzhadi diplomat smiled heartily and was striding back to the dining room, when the sharp report of a rifle echoed in. He turned, alarmed. Years of living in a region torn by tribal conflict had blessed him with a familiarity with firearms. He crossed his arms and strode resolutely into the crowded dining hall. It would disrespectful to the head of security's warrior honour if he continued to question his security. They would undoubtedly deal with the sniper.He took a seat and continued making small talk with the other guests. The room was on edge, an edge of nervousness coated by a thick coating of political professionalism and baby-charming smiles. Would the President just give his speech already?OOC: Just waiting on Tyler to make his big speech. :3

If it was a shoulder-mounted rocket launcher, the backblast alone would have been a dead giveaway. Oh goodness, it's Yuri's revenge. Hide yoselves!

IC - Brotherhood NPCs - New York: Supremacy looked to the sky as the SWAT helicopters descended. Teams of armoured men rappelled down. The water hoses combed back and forth across the crowd, knocking back protesters as they tried to climb over barricades, and dousing out some of the flames which lapped at the police cars. The superpowered mutant shuffled back, crouching low as a sonic cannon blast hit a protester, causing them to crumple. The party outside seemed to really be getting going. He played with the debris in his pocket, feeling the bearings clink. "Let them come. This party is only just starting." IC - Convention Hall - New York:Within the convention centre, there was a slight commotion as the sounds of the fighting outside trickled in. Shots here and there, and screams from the mob. The Sharzhadi ambassador tapped his foot nervously. The shutters made him nervous. Like a trapped dog. It was better to see one's adversaries, rather than waiting for them to burst in. He glanced up as his wife approached. "Of course, I'm sure we will be going back in soon. No, don't worry. They won't be able to get in. Of course they won't start whiel you're freshening up. Go, go."He noticed two men, standing near the shutters. Neither had seemed surprised when the metal had come down. The diplomat strode over resolutely to the pair. "Pardon me. You two are involved with security at this convention, no?" The diplomat crossed his arms and surveyed the pair. He opened his mouth to speak, as a bell rang softly, informing the guests that it was time to return to the dining area, and continue with the speeches, meals and drinks. "As you Americans say, saved by the bell." He raised an eyebrow in annoyance. "I was going to ask how long you were planning on putting your esteemed guests through the psychological torture of listening to those brickheads outside trying to break in. But I see my concern was without need." The man glared at Yuri and Grigori sharply, as the sounds of the protest continued, then rose sharply. "Do you expect our vehicles will be able to get to the entrance by tonight in order to pick us up..." The foreign diplomat let the question hang in the air before continuing. "Or should we expect them to set up tents and bar us from leaving?"

I was waiting for Tyler to post a President IC. I'll write up a little thing going on with the mob, and feel free to drop in the SWAT Hammers.

Sweet Magneto. Well done.

OOC: 100k for infiltrating the world's top spy organization and stealing a priceless database! IC - Cambion - Lodge:"Nothing like memories of bloodshed to add flavour to a drink." Victor raised an eyebrow at the value added to his account. Just as he had suspected. The mutant closed his eyes and re-opened them, tapping into the powers of chaos and tipping chance in his favour. "I'm gonna need all the luck I can get for this will work." "100,000 dollars? That's a little short. Your organization promised me one, point, five million total, 750,000 before the job and 750,000 afterwards." Maximoff crossed his arms. "Is this a prank because I completed the task so quickly?" "I'm probably gonna die like a *****. God help me." The young mutant placed his iPad down, and swirled his drink, hand covering the mouth of the glass. The odds of the bear of a mutant impaling him immediately were ridiculously high. "You will get your information, once I get my promised payment. I know that you have the capital to pay me. Unless you intend to reopen negotiations."

IC - Cambion - Lodge: Victor craned his neck slightly and nodded to the larger mutant's clawed gauntlets. "This isn't exactly the most weapons friendly state. He probably got spooked." The younger man smiled, trying to hide his nervousness, as the large man took a sip. "1945. From Japan." Maximoff smiled easily at the huge mutant. "On hand, yes. But first, the money." The young man acknowledged the other's clawed gauntlets. "Professional habit. I've had a few clients that tried reneging on their agreements with me." He chuckled. "Not that my contracts would have a chance of holding up in any courtroom in this country." "Rest assured, I'm not foolish enough to try and double cross you. It'd be terrible for my business reputation to leave dissatisfied clients." "Or end up chop suey strewn about on the floor of a backwoods hunting lodge."

IC - Cambion - The Lodge: Victor glanced up from his iPad, where he was monitoring his bank account activity. It seems his suspicions were not unfounded. The giant of a man's nostrils flared slightly, causing Victor's eyes to flicker with alarm for an instant. "Scent? I should have foreseen that." "Never mind... play cool." He sipped his glass of water slowly, to keep his throat from gaining the consistency of sandpaper. "Not at all. Please..." He gestured to the other chair, then paused as he noted the crimson running down the huge man's gauntlets. "Pity about the innkeeper, he gave me a great discount." Maximoff shrugged to himself and finished his sentence. "Please, have a seat. Let us discuss business." The young mutant nodded to the bottle. "Help yourself. It is from a good year."

Dogammit! Jameson-reference.

*growsHitlerstache*It's the X-Men. They're a menace to the city.

IC - Cambion - Boston: "I wouldn't dream of it, it doesn't pay to treat clients with disrespect in my business. Six o' clock tonight. Sending coordinates now." Victor keyed in the coordinates and waited until he was sure the other man had hung up before he too hung up. Maximoff breathed a sigh of relief as he hung up. "I don't think he recognized my voice." He reached for Persson's sidearm, which had been returned to him by SHIELD before he left the building. The young man removed the magazine and checked the bullets, before slamming the magazine back in and scoffing. "Of course, lead bullets. Useless." If the owner of that voice was whom he guessed, it would likely take a full clip of carbonadium bullets to even slow him down. Victor grinned ruefully. "You'd have to be mad, or government funded, to spend that much on such specialized ammunition." "Well, six o' clock isn't far off. I'd better get back to work." The mutant twirled his knife, and returned to his task. No slip-ups. No loose ends. No failures. Failure led to something worse than death. Failure led to pain. IC - Cambion - Lodge:Victor Maximoff had arrived at the hunting lodge with an hour to spare. An hour which he used diligently. He had to make sure that every preparation was perfect. First and foremost, his face. "My face would be a dead giveaway. I can't afford letting him recognize me." The shapeshifting mutant studied himself in the bathroom, and touched his scarred ribcage gingerly.Dark brown hair flowed and swayed, lengthening into dirty blonde locks. Brown irises swirled to grey, while his nose broadened and his lips grew a little larger. Satisfied with the new guise, Victor tied back his hair in a short ponytail. He exited the bathroom, throwing on a suit and a red shirt. The mutant checked Persson's pistol, concealed on his person. "Not that I'd be able to hit him, but it might make him pause." Victor sighed. As a professional industrial spy, he had never prioritized purchasing an arsenal of weapons. He sighed, running through a list of his past excuses. "I'm not a redneck NRA member. Why on Earth would I need to buy an H&K MP7 or an AK-74? I live in NoHo, not Afghanistan. The last thing I need to feel safe is a gun that'll only be used against me by a burglar. I shoulda listened to that salesman."He poured out a glass of water and examined his sunstone ring. "The only weapon that'll buy me even half a minute is information. Knowledge is power. The only power worth more than money." Underneath the gem, at the base of the setting, was the camera and microchip which contained the complete database of registered mutants known to SHIELD. Using a pair of narrow tweezers, he removed the chip, then replaced the fiery gem in its setting. He put a pair of glasses out on the wooden coffee table along with a bottle of something strong. A comfortable fire was crackling on the hearth. Maximoff settled into an easy chair to wait. He checked his watch. His contractor should be arriving soon.

Which is why your points were so appropriate. XD did you get my pm?

Numbers are really impractical for the reasons stated above. Another potential problem is that they will inevitably be overemphasised."No way your Class 70 could beat my Class 100! My profile clearly says that he's stronger than your guy."Flexibility gives room for discretion to be used appropriately.

OOC: Please, eight random shots is hardly a city full of gunfire. Water hoses and sound cannons, maybe, but gunfire, no(t yet).IC - Cambion - Boston: "In person. I understand." The mutant frowned to himself at the compliment. "You flatter me. I've led a lucky life, that's all."Victor swallowed slightly. "There's a hunting lodge I know south of New York City. It would be a discrete location." Maximoff glanced at the television screen. "Away from protests and SHIELD agents on high alert for suspicious characters.""If that is acceptable, I will send you the coordinates. When do you want to make the exchange?"

IC - Cambion - Boston: "Hello?"The blood drained from Victor's face at the voice. The tone was familiar. Rich and commanding. A voice that made one feel like an omega under the eyes of their Alpha. Animalistic savagery tamed by the intelligence of a predator. Victor swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry, and rose to his feet, striding out of the bathroom and checking the window of his mark's apartment. There was no visible watcher on the street. "There was no way they could have found me." The scarred skin over the left side of his ribcage seemed to throb. "I got rid of their tracer tattoo a long time ago." "Hello?" Maximoff realized that in his panic, he had left the other man hanging. "God, please don't let him recognize my voice." He cleared his throat. "Sorry about that. You hired me to acquire a certain amount of information for your organization. The asset has been secured and is in my possession. You already have the details required to transfer the other half of my payment. Do you have a preferred method of receiving the package, sir?" The last word slipped out instinctively.Victor froze. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, as he waited anxiously for the man to respond. "######." Years of conditioning under the shadow of that omnipresent, omniscient and omnipotent presence... they weren't easy to shake.

IC - Cambion - Boston:Cambion was whistling softly to himself as he entered his mark's apartment. The ginger was still out like a light. "Good god, those pills really knocked him out cold."The mutant continued to whistle as he bustled about the apartment. The TV was muted, but from time to time, he looked up, as anchors and reporters blathered on, discussion interposed with images from Vegas, and what looked like New York. The mutant's smile was thin, as he pulled on a pair of rubber gloves, testing the temperature of the bathwater. "Comfortably warm." This was the final page of this particular chapter of work. The money he would be paid for infiltrating and retrieving the information would give him much more leeway in picking jobs. "With great power comes great freedom. And what greater power is there than money?" He fiddled about for a second, before examining the short-bladed knife in his hand. The blade gleamed as he glanced at the ginger, who was still slumped in the bathtub, unconscious.It was almost a pity. The ginger had been a decent gaming buddy. Victor Maximoff sighed deeply. His contractor would be calling any moment now. "Time to wrap this last loose end." Victor twirled the knife twice, and began to walk towards the bed. The blade seemed to glow with its own light. Victor Maximoff lifted the ginger's wrist out of the water. There would be no pain, no struggle. Bzzzzzzz Bzzzzzzzzz BzzzzzzzzVictor looked up, impatience written across his face. "**** cell phones. You can never enjoy your own privacy." He fished the cellular device out of his pocket, raising it to his ear, while clasping the knife and his mark's wrist in his other hand. "Cambion speaking, how may I be of service?"

IC - Brotherhood NPCs - New York: Supremacy pulled a pair of goggles from his jacket pocket, strapping them on and tyin a handkerchief over his mouth, as the tear gas rolled in. The wave of protesters ebbed and waned, some scuffling with soldiers, others throwing bricks at cops and grunts alike. The mutant coughed slightly. The tear gas burned like everclear going down the wrong throat. Not that it didn't give him some amount of cover. He stalked through the billowing cloud of gas. The military had reacted just like Spider predicted. Escalating the standoff with tear gas and pepper spray would only inflame #WakeUP. He pulled out his cell phone, flipping through his twitter feed. Sure enough, #WakeNOW was exploding. "Short-sighted morons." He frowned and listened to the air around him. The sound of fighting, chanting slogans, and the hiss of tear gas was everywhere. There was only one thing missing. "Spider, why the heII haven't the cops started shooting?" The other mutant's voice crackled in his mind. "The mob probably hasn't crossed Uncle Sapien's threshold." Supremacy's psychic voice was impatient as he walked through the gas, pausing every now and then to shout a particularly foul insult to the President. "Well, tell Spiral to escalate it somehow." IC - Brotherhood NPCs - New York:Spiral rolled her eyes. Anyone who looked at Supremacy would think they had stumbled upon the winner of an Abercrombie model search, with the smile and easy confidence of a fully decorated Scout. It was too bad that he was such a bitter piece of pie. The female looked up from her laptop, at Spiral, who was lounging on the couch, watching CNN's live coverage of the convention conflict. "You heard the man Spiral." "As you wish, princess." Spiral leaned back over the arm of the couch, arcing his back like a lazy cat as he closed his eyes and drew a series of tiny circles in the air. IC - Brotherhood NPCs - New York: WHOOSHSupremacy ducked instinctively as a squad car he was walking past went up in flames. Its windows had been pulverized, and it looked like a particularly angry protester had violated it before torching the vehicle. "Humans are weak, too weak to really change their circumstances. So they lash out like destructive toddlers." He pushed his way past a group of people wearing masks made popular by a certain graphic novel and film. The masked men huddled in a group, before fanning out, Molotov cocktails smouldering in their hands. "Leave it to the 25% of humanity that fits Hobbes' analysis to mess up the rest of the world." The sound of shattering glass and the orange light of flames could be heard. More police cars were being lit up and an acrid black smoke filled the air, blending with the tear gas and reducing visibility to near zero. Eight tiny black spots appeared in the thick of the smoke, heralded by one or two sparks of static. BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG Eight bullets exited the tiny black portals generated by Spiral, following the sound of their shots, as the miniature portals winked out of existence. Most were directed at the convention center, bouncing off the shuttered windows, ricocheting harmlessly off of the APCs parked in front of the entrance, and narrowly missing soldiers who were setting up a portable barricade. One, however, was directed at a particularly noticeable protester, who had mounted an overturned police car and was standing tall amidst the smoke and tear gas. The protestor was waving a flag of red, white and blue, screaming for humanity to wake up to the danger mutants posed. BANG The bullet struck the flag-wielder squarely in the chest, dropping him like a sack of bricks. He fell from his perch, collapsing in a heap atop the flag. "Good shot, Spiral." The lethargic mutant on the other end suppressed a laugh. "Whatever you say, princess."If Supremacy was happy to hear the shots, he would have been elated at the sight on live national television. CNN had their camera trained on the flag man when the bullet struck him. The smoke and gas even managed to part enough to get a clear zoom on his prone form. On televisions across the country, the image of a patriot was being burned into the hearts and minds of the people. A respectable young man, bleeding from his chest, green eyes staring blankly at the sky, draped in Old Glory. The CNN reporter on scene gasped, her voice quivering for a moment at sight. "America, we-" She composed herself. "We have received confirmation. Shots have been fired at the WakeNOW protest in New York. At least one person may be dead."

You mean like what happens when you keep your milk past the expiration date?Either that or Space Lobster... doing that makes quasi-slime monsters... *shudders*