Evil Mastermind RPG Round 2

"Okay, this is becoming quite the clusterfuck." said Motorpocalypse, hands in the air. "Hey, look, 7, you know we have no bad history? I never actually robbed your casino, those were funds from another supervillain lair. So what do you say we wreck this guy over here first?" he jerked his head towards the guy with the guns.

As his last, barely conscious thought, Faceplant raised two tiny flat stalagmites in front of Motorpocalypse and Mr. 7.

The helmeted man nodded slightly at Drew, jerking his head - a subtle indication to get lost. He pulled back the hammer on the gun he pointed at Motorpocalypse with an audible click - not that he needed to. The hammer was just there for style, but sometimes you just need a little 'click' to remind people that you're pointing a gun at their back. His other gun came to point at 7, and he pulled the hammer on that one too. "Wouldn't try it. Put down the gem and shove it over to me, or I put a bullet through your skull. No funny business or you get the same. As for you, Seven, I wouldn't go trying anything either, if you still want to be breathing tomorrow."

The handy thing about that voice thing was that it quite easily masked his identity with its sharp, mechanical tone.

Drew nodded, thankful. Putting up his revolvers, He rushed over to the person in the Miners suit, giving them a quick once-over. The only actual injury here appeared to be the vest of ice the man appeared to be wearing, and that didn't seem to be much considering he was in a miners outfit. He did look to be unconscious, though. It occured to him, now that he could concentrate on the Miner and the surroundings, that his apartment was just down the street, but he couldn't let them know that. He dediced he'd need to go the other way, towards his unseen motorcycle. But he had to wake the man up first.

"Sir, wake up! I'm going to get you out of here, but i need you to wake up first!"

edited 14th Jun '11 2:13:22 PM by InfiniteParagon

"Isn't this so... Ironic? This situation brings back memories! A thief with a gem being chased by Mr. 7! Then some dumbass with a pair of guns shows up! Although last time Darktail sneaked in, and with me I'm pretty sure the cops will be here from twelve counties." Motorpocalypse said. "I mean it could only be better if you were Bronze Revolver."

Sirens started blaring from a couple dozen blocks away.

Krow!

A very neat hole was punched into the asphalt about an inch away from Motorpocalypse's face. A very neat bullet hole, that is.

"Shut your mouth, thief. You and Seven are going to be behind bars for a while. I'm sure the police will be very happy to see you...and so will a few big, burly inmates."

edited 14th Jun '11 2:58:26 PM by MisterAlways

Clinton, seeing that now someone else had 7 at gun point, decided to remove his knife from 7's throat and backed off towards where this helmeted man was, so he wouldn't be caught in the crossfire in case he had to fire at 7. He continued to point his revolver at Motorpocalypse.

edited 14th Jun '11 2:59:31 PM by SirSteelman

With the sound of sirens came a startled look from Drew towards that direction. "They're here, no time for waking you up!" Holding the man and cradling him like one might a small child, A large spire of ice erupted from the ground underneath Drews feet, sending both flying in the air away from the four. He put distance over height in this situation, the angle of the spire being so that he could run right to his bike and hightail it out of here, assuming his legs could handle the contact from this one.

edited 14th Jun '11 3:02:13 PM by InfiniteParagon

"Alright man. Here you go, Surrogate Bronze Revolver." Motorpocalypse dropped the gem and then kicked it towards him. The sirens drew closer. "You can lift cars, right 7? And, you know, if you sling it around you can redirect the momentum. Truce?"

"Five more... Minutes, ma..." muttered Faceplant, as if this whole thing was just a bad dream.

"Truce," replied 7. He then saw the first police car come around the corner. He lifted up the car, the tossed it at Clinton and Bronze Revolver.

Slipping into a jacket, Ial stepped out of the city hall offices and down its steps with vice mayor Carl Lang.

"I'm feeling a little peckish this evening. I wonder where we should dine..."

An applause roared through the stage as the curtains closed, marking the intermission of Lesson Theater's latest production. Backstage, the play's director clapped as well for the performance of her actors and actresses.

"Alright everyone, that was wonderful, but don't forget that that's just half the show. If you need to, quickly go over what's left in our play, then go out there and give the best performance you ever gave, okay?"

As she tried to rouse her fellow thespians, Aria sighed in her head. There's always so much to do. How the hell did Ial do it?

Drew landed with a very profound pain in his feet. Thankfully, his landing didn't seem to have broken anything. He almost dropped the man, but held on, placing him on the motorcycle and getting on himself. He took the mans hands by the sleeves and put them where he was clasping Drews midsection and drove like the wind, entering the apartment complex shortly after on the other side.

"Hold on sir, almost there..." He picked the man up again and carried him to his apartment, his legs now protesting it with jolts of sensing and pain. He endured it.

The apartment was as bare as could possibly be, and the temperature was like the sun on a hot day with no cool breeze to console you. Drew couldn't feel it, though. He set the man down on the bed, and began to get what he needed to get the ice off of the miner.

Mister Helmet Dude swore profusely and leaped as the car flew towards him, tackling Clinton to the ground as the vehicle flew overhead with some very surprised police officers inside. "No homo," he muttered, barely audible under the siren's din. Oi well. At least he still had the- correction. He grabbed the gem from the pavement, dropping one of his guns in doing so. He had the gem, at least.

edited 14th Jun '11 5:17:40 PM by MisterAlways

As another pair of cop cars rounded the corner, Motorpocalypse gave the thumbs up to Mister 7 and fired a grappling hook at Blackie's helmet. "Seriously, who are you?! That's a damn lame outfit, Bronze Revolver had a sweetass cape and mask and everything!"

edited 14th Jun '11 5:05:51 PM by Taco

MHD fired a salvo of shots at the hook, knocking it out of the air. Oy, with the fast reflexes. He rolled off of Clinton, grabbing his second gun while doing so and springing up to his feet. He pointed his guns at Motorpocalypse and 7 again. "Who I am isn't your concern. Now both of you put your goddamn hands in the air."

edited 14th Jun '11 5:18:14 PM by MisterAlways

Drew returned with a rag soaked in water as hot as he could get it, and a bucket filled with more of it. Very carefully, he began to scrub the sides of the ice with said water until it was very thin on both sides. He then put both hands to the piece on his chest, froze them to the ice and pulled up, the sides shattering but now half of it was off. He flipped the man over and did the exact same thing, getting the other half off with ease. His work done, he sat down on the floor nearby the bed, deciding to let the man rest until he woke.

At a bit of urging from his stomach, Drew got up and looked for something to eat, despite the pain from his legs giving him trouble and the usual problems. Hope i have something spicy...

edited 14th Jun '11 6:22:11 PM by InfiniteParagon

"You know what? I think I'll pass." Motorpocalypse engaged his machine guns and opened up on Blackie, gunning his wheels to circle around the gunslinger and onto a second police car that swerved around the corner.

The helmeted man swore, and performed a quite impressive leap into the air. Not quite in time to dodge all of the bullets, though. Some of them struck his legs, richocheting off and burying themselves either in walls or the ground, which, really, isn't supposed to happen. Others struck him in the general chest and stomach area, with odd pof! noises.

And then he hit the ground. Because it's right well fucking impossible to keep a clear head when you've just been hit by several bullets, Kevlar or not. Whomp.

"Oh, you're armored, huh? LET'S PUT IT TO THE TEST!!" Motorpocalypse walked closer, continuing his hail of bullets on the armored hero. "THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FUCK A STRANGER IN THE ASS!!"

Getting hit by several bullets does tend to fuck somebody up. This here man, though, seemed to be pretty quick to recover. Or perhaps he was on meds. Who knows. Anyway, he rolled out of the way again, jumping up, keepin' it movin', movin'. He emptied the spent magazine of one of his guns, and quite a few bullet casings dropped to the floor. He was quick of hand, swiping into a pocket of his coat and pushing a new magazine into the weapon. A bright red one. He promptly proceeded to open fire on Motorpocalype.

"These explosions will really tie your face together!"

Dude, that doesn't make any sense. Whatever, you just got shot, you're excused.

*

The cyborg swerved to the side, taking a smoking impact in his shoulder, revealing the machinery under his sleeve.

"Shut the fuck up Donny." he shot a grappling hook onto a building and swung onto the side, firing as he rode up it.

"Big men also cry." Mister Helmet dude fired another explosive round at the hook that Motorpocalypse had shot onto the roof, carefully dancing out of the way of the hail of bullets. Oi, damage to munincipal property. Well, it's not going on his expense account, at least.

Wakey, wakey...

"Ugh... My head feels like someone shot a grappling hook at it... Either that or I drank way, way, way too much... And I don't drink..."

Looking around sluggishly, Faceplant realised he was in an appartment room that seemed strangly like his own.

"Duuuuuuude, what happened?"

Drew didn't turn his head to the miners waking up. He had been lightly tapping the floor as he looked for food, sensing the room and knew he had woken up. Him speaking confirmed it.

"You tell me."

edited 14th Jun '11 7:13:22 PM by InfiniteParagon