Okay, here's a good one for you guys to play with. What would it take to make a Stargate? I know that some of you would say that it breaks the rules, but I don't think that this is so bad. For one thing, in order for this to work, you HAVE to have a corresponding gate on the other end - tricky to pull off since Handwavium doesn't like 'mass production' even if you're doing it 'by hand'. You'd need someone like The Professor to build something like this - he has the ability to, more or less, force Handwavium to do what he wants it to.
Also, the 'Gate is only capable of moving limited amounts of cargo and personel and is not quite the miracle worker it is made out to be in the Stargate series. For example, if you open a gate into a vacuum, then you're gonna wind up with all the air getting blown out through your end of the 'Gate. Exact opposite applies if you gate into a flooded area. Yeah, this one will be indescriminate and bi-directional, with the results of two people jumping into either end at the same time being rather grotesque. A very dangerous way to travel, yes?
Thoughts?

Quote:

---

I could not agree more with your last post if I tried. Yes, of course, moslems are an alien body in our midst. Every day in London - on the tube, in shops, in parks, whilst shopping, whilst going about the 101 tasks that make up an average life - this is borne in on me.
In London today moslems dress differently, are rude to locals, jump queues, shout at us, wave their fists at us, call us worthless infidel in public and in loud voices. I have, just four days ago, been elbowed aside by a moslem couple, with sidekicks, whilst trying to top up my Oyster card at a tube station at the automatic machine. Apparently, I had taken longer than the ten seconds that they were prepared to wait and so three burly males forced me aside and, when I objected, pushed me to the floor and - quite literally - and took over the machine which I was attempting to use.
Not, in a crowded and impatient city like London that this was a surprise, but that in this instance that I was insulted by these people was a surprise. The eldest male in the group, dressed in the usual and ridiculous garb of mohammedans everywhere, looked directly at me amd said, in quite clear English, (and I quote verbatim) Get out of our way infidel slave.
You may imagine how I felt at that moment. To be so insulted in my own capital city was stunning. It took all my self-control not to do something rash at that moment.
Knowing that CCTV cameras would have captured this incident I complained, some three hours later (after having completed my journey and return), to the British Transport Police on the Broadway. I need not have bothered. Not only would no-one there take my complaint of technical assault and insult seriously but no-one to whom I spoke was even prepared to initiate any paperwork whatsoever nor were they remotely prepared to find and look at the video recordings. Indeed, one Officer even said to me that I should swallow my pride and live with it because - and, once again, I quote verbatim you are just being racist and you have to remember that its cultural with them.
Obviously, at this point, I indicated that I felt that I had been physically assaulted and that I would really like to have my complaint investigated. Well, this is really where everything about that evening begins to stick in my craw. When I said that, the Officer of the BTP who was listening to me actually cautioned me and warned me that if I persisted with making a nuisance of myself I would be charged under the The Race Relations Act 1976 and the RRAA (Race Relations (Amendment) Act) 2000.
I gave up at this point. Cowardice is sometimes the better part of valour. But, damn it, they won, didnt they? I have been intimidated into a dhimmi position by them and the very powers which should have protected me in my own country.
Happy New Year everyone, I say in a bitter tone of voice.
Dominic.

---

I just thought that Archer fans might want to know that Aortic whose done a number of translated Typemoon Doujins (which tend not to contain that much smut, if any) has translated one about gives a rather interesting insight to Archer's character.
Where the Doujin is: www.chiyochan.net/fate/res/29270.html
Aortic's Site: www.freewebs.com/aortic/index.htm
Dwarven Vow #16: You can do anything if you try! We're dead anyway if we fail.
-Lloyd Irving (Tales of Symphonia)

...I'd appreciate feedback on it.
Concept: A "speedster" (ref. the Lensman series) which conforms to the Rules of the Handwave.
Specifics: Approximately one-fifth form-fitting spacesuit (with ship controls in the gauntlets and a HUD in the helmet), approximately four-fifths main drive, with small maneuvering drives and a thin layer of 'waved metal or carbon-fibre sheet on the outside to keep everything together (and provide a modicum of armour).
Top Speed: This is where it gets tricky. In Fenspace, the smaller a ship is, the faster it can travel. This would be the smallest class of ship (for a generous definition of "ship") that could possibly be built. It should be faster than 0.1c, but by how much?
Crew: By necessity, one person who doesn't mind being cooped up alone and essentially unable to move for the entirety of a trip. This limits the utility of such a craft to AIs and some biomodded people, except for very short trips.
Weapons, Comm Systems, and Other Frills: Absolutely none. Edit: Except for a short-range radio, so the pilot can contact traffic control. There's no room for them, and the extra weight would slow the ship anyway...
Intended Purpose: Emergency evacuation of ships and space stations that are close to inhabited bodies.
(If it wasn't for the atmosphere problem, this could be used as a Earth/Island shuttle. However, the L5 Warsies and the Stellvians could use these to get to Luna...)
Dramatic Purpose: Getting one of "Noah's angels" from L5 to Phobos before the end of Day 2 of the Con.
Is this "doable" in Fenspace? Does it step on anyone's toes? Am I overestimating the problems that appear to restrict its use to AIs and other people who can remain completely motionless for hours?

-Rob Kelk
--
Rob Kelk
"Governments have no right to question the loyalty of those who oppose
them. Adversaries remain citizens of the same state, common subjects of
the same sovereign, servants of the same law."

- Michael Ignatieff, addressing Stanford University in 2012

Strange and simple question. Haruhi and the rest of the SOS-dan are all clearly NPCs - but from time to time, people are going to have to write them as characters in more than paragraph length. Mr Fnord has already put up the suggestion that the person tagged for this duty should be whoever knows Haruhi best, and this certainly seems reasonable. So... who's out there that is both interested in writing the required bits of Haruhi-focus and reasonably knowledgeable on the topic? Anyone?

video.google.com/videopla...%22lego%22__________________
The main reason Santa is so jolly is because he knows where all the bad girls live. - George Carlin.
___________________________
"I've always wanted to be somebody, but I should have been more specific." - George Carlin

Wide is about to ding into the range for the end-game task forces, giving us more fun things to do with Wide, Min, Bella, etc.
So. as I have Tuesday and Friday off.... Hows about some Shadow shard tf-ing? VEG, 'sides, should let Min ding 50 quicker
''We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat
them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary.''

-- James Nicoll

Using a nicely arbitrary date of Tuesday, May 8, 2012 as my start point, here's a quick screenshot of where the planets are as of - roughly - the beginning of SOS-con:
fnord.sandwich.net/fenspa...r-2012.jpg
fnord.sandwich.net/fenspa...r-2012.jpg
Discussion, arguments, etc. on the orrery go in this thread. Have at it.---
Mr. Fnord
http://fnord.sandwich.net/
http://www.jihad.net/
Mr. Fnord interdimensional man of mystery

FenWiki - Your One-Stop Shop for Fenspace Information

"I. Drink. Your. NERDRAGE!"

While we're in the process of nailing things down, I think that we ought to have a timeline of Important Things Leading Up To The Con (and presumably after, once the storyline progresses). Specifically, we ought to have at least a timeline thread, and quite possibly a pinned-to-the-top Official Timeline Post. I know that there was some work done on this in the superthread at one point, but I do not have time or impetus right now to go digging for it. If someone else could dredge it out as a starter, would be much appreciated.
Also, as a complete side note, who *would* have the responsibility of posting Haruhi's first message on the Convention thread? I'm not saying it has to be *just* yet, but I'd hate to have the whole thing stall out here because everyone was waiting for someone else to post a major message from the pivotal NPC.

Hi folks!
Finally got the combat sequence worked out the way I wanted.
As a side note, very VERY many thanks to all the people (Cindy, Rev, Fox, and Drenivian, among others) who helped MechaDeuce achieve the last badge needed for my ultimate story-related goal: The Freedom Phalanx Reserve Member accolade.
And back to the story...
========================================

"Well, I'm hardly an expert," Psyche turned the small circuit card over in her fingers for a moment, examining it. "I've seen some Rikti technology, yes, but if you want to know if this really is some of their tech, you'd be better off asking Positron for his opinion. He's the technology wizard." She handed it back to the red and silver armoured hero, cocking an eyebrow curiously.
" I had thought of that," MechaDeuce nodded hesitantly, and Psyche caught a fragment of a related thought.
[Should I mention it to her or not? I don't want to alarm her. ]
"Mention what to me?" Psyche cocked her head at him, hiding a smile at the way he started. "Come on," she prodded, "I'm psychic, remember? You had to have some other reason for bringing this to me specifically."
"Smart as well as beautiful," MechaDeuce's tone of voice was hard to pin down because of the electronic modulation from his suit, but Psyche was willing to bet he was grinning. "All right, I brought it to you because everything they've stolen in the last week has been some kind of technology that is very specifically targeted at affecting psychic powers, and a lot of that has been reclaimed Rikti tech. When I found this, I found some records they'd tried to destroy and the records were all about you."
"Why don't you just come out and say that you think they're going to try and kill me?" Psyche's voice was dry, and she gave him a small smile. "Thanks for the concern, but I think I can handle a few Freaks."
"Oh?" MechaDeuce's helmet tilted in a manner suggesting a sidelong glance at her. "I take it you can hear their thoughts before they get close enough to do anything?"
"Something like that," Psyche nodded. "They aren't exactly subtle it might have something to do with being covered in old car parts, but I could be wrong."
"I see," MechaDeuce was silent for a moment. "What if they've found a way to get around that?"
"Not likely," Psyche snorted delicately. "That would take somebody with intelligence and discipline the intelligence to see why they'd need to do, and the discipline to actually follow-through on some kind of a plan. Those are both attributes I've never heard any of the Freaks be accused of."
"What about Clamor?" MechaDeuce asked mildly. "She certainly had both." Psyche shot him a narrow glance.
"All right, but Clamor was an exception," she allowed. "Most of the Freakshow are nothing more than angry punks running around with power tools."
"True," his helmet nodded in agreement. "But there might be somebody new on the scene, somebody able to move beyond that limitation."
"I guess anything's possible," she shrugged. "Don't you think you're overreacting a little? I mean, I appreciate the concern, but..."
"I take it that you can read my mind right now?" The question caught Psyche flatfooted, and she blinked at the sudden shift the conversation had taken.
"What does that have to do anything?" She frowned at him. "I can sense everyone's thoughts to some degree, but I don't run around reading people's minds, thank you very much. That's an invasion of privacy, not to mention unethical." She didn't bother to mention that she didn't really like actively reading minds she got enough 'noise' from everyone around her that she certainly didn't need to probe directly to know what they were thinking.
"I know that," MechaDeuce nodded again. "With your permission, I'd like to try something." When she nodded curiously, MechaDeuce opened a panel in the chestplate of his armour and inserted the circuit card as Psyche watched. He closed the compartment, and the blue glow from the lens in the center of his chest armour brightened. At the same time, the background hum from his armour suit began to rise in pitch.
"All right can you sense anything now?" the resonant electronic voice asked. Psyche opened her mouth to reply... ..and then he disappeared.
It was like suddenly going deaf, or having your eardrums pop from a sudden change in air pressure. The shift was so abrupt that it bordered on being physically painful. Psyche could still see the armoured figure in front of her he hadn't moved since slotting in the circuit card but every trace of his mind was gone as if removed by a giant chalkboard eraser. In fact...
"Shut it off," Psyche's hands flew to the sides of her head, her eyes widening as she suddenly realized she couldn't "hear" anybody's thoughts anymore. Deafening silence seemed to be crushing down on her suddenly, and panic fluttered like a caged bird in her chest. "Stop it!! Shut it OFF!!!!"
"Sorry." The blue glow faded a bit, and MechaDeuce pulled out the circuit card.
[I was right, damn it...] The thought echoed ominously.
"Yes, you were right," Psyche's mouth was dry as she tried to get her pulse back under control. In the back of her mind, the familiar babble of a myriad of different minds had re-established itself. She took a deep breath and tried to force herself to relax. "So you're telling me the Freakshow has a psychic cloaking device?"
"Something like that," he nodded, then handed her the circuit card. "You'd better get Positron to look that over and see if he can find a way to either jam or circumvent it." The red-and-silver battle suit stepped back from her and bowed formally. "Thank you very much for taking the time to talk to me; I really appreciate it."
"Wait a second, what...where the hell are you going?"
"Hunting," MechaDeuce's voice was flat. Dust swirled around him on the pavement as he began to lift into the air, the glow from his helmet visor and chest lens brightening to a steady blue-white burn. "I now know who, how, and why, but I don't know where or when. Yet." The hum from the red-and-silver armour rose to a high-pitched howl, and he shot off into the distance, banking sharply and angling out over the harbour.
----------

----------
"...And then he just blasts off across the harbour!" Psyche fumed, pacing back and forth. "Who the hell does he think he is?!" Her eyes flashed as she turned, her bright red hair framing her irate expression. On the other side of the room, Positron glanced up from his workbench, but withheld any comments he might have had. In front of him, wires snaked from improvised connections on the mysterious circuit card to a nearby computer bank.
Readouts flickered and scrolled on a nearby screen, and the armoured scientist examined the data carefully, occasionally glancing at another screen and tapping a key. Positron became aware that it had become quiet suddenly, and glanced up - Psyche was standing watching him with her arms crossed, one eyebrow raised, and tapping her foot, evidently expecting a reply of some kind.
"Uh," Positron scrambled to come up with something that wouldn't sound lame. "Was that a rhetorical question, or did you really want me to comment on somebody I haven't met?"
"Forget it," Psyche sighed and resumed pacing. "Any luck with that thing?"
"Some," Positron replied absently, his gaze again fixed on the monitor readouts. He snagged a spooling printout from a third console and read through the results. "It's definitely a knock-off of Rikti technology, but it was manufactured locally. The analysis shows typical elements and composition consistent with North American fabrication facilities."
"I thought it was illegal to duplicate Rikti tech?" Psyche's eyebrow quirked upwards.
"Plasma weapon technology only," Positron replied, hitting a couple more keys and watching the screen. "If you get the proper licenses and permits, research on the more mundane stuff is allowed."
"What's mundane about psi-blocking?" Psyche glanced darkly at the wired-up circuit board. "Anybody working on that kind of stuff is either hiding something, or wants to control psychics."
"It's possible," Positron admitted, cocking his helmet at her. "Or they could be looking for a defence against Rikti psychic powers."
"You're an optimist, Posi," Psyche shook her head, giving him a small smile. "So what's our next step?"
"Finding the rest of the device would be a good start," Positron turned away from the workbench. "This board is only part of a larger device, after all. Based on what you've said, it generates a field that blocks psychic-type abilities, but we'd need to conduct some more tests before I can say what the range is or if it's only supposed to block mind-reading."
"I'll pass on the tests, thanks," Psyche eyed the circuit card inimically, her lips pressed in a thin line. "Feeling that thing in operation once was enough."
"Well then, it looks like you'll need to call up your friend in the armour suit," Positron glanced at her. "From what you've said, it sounds like he's actively pursuing it."
"Great," Psyche sighed, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. "Got a phonebook handy?"
--------------

A rippling blast of energy slammed into the motley group, exploding in a coronal discharge of blue force that scattered them like bowling pins. Curses and surprised shouts filled the air as two more bursts of blue energy struck one of the Freaks - the one with the large transformer coils jutting from his shoulders. The Freak stiffened and toppled over in a limp heap as a glowing red-and-white suit of armour landed neatly in the middle of the Freaks as they scrambled to their feet.
A crimson aura burst from MechaDeuce's right gauntlet as he slammed it into the chest of the nearest Freak, sending him arcing through the air to crash into a pile of crates. Wood chunks flew everywhere as they splintered noisily, but MechaDeuce had already turned away to deliver a point-blank volley of pulsing energy bolts to the next Freak in line - the one trying to line up a shotgun on him. The gun bellowed, spraying buckshot in a hailstorm of whining ricochets as it glanced harmlessly off his armour. The first bolt shattered the shotgun; the remainder of the volley stretched the Freak out unconscious on the pavement.
From off to MechaDeuce's right, a submachine gun chattered noisily, but the hail of lead missed him. MechaDeuce barely even glanced in the direction of the gunner as he flattened him with another crackling energy bolt. His helmet turned, the glowing blue visor lens seeming to focus on another man groggily climbing back to his feet. Like most of the Freakshow, the man was covered in tattoos and pieces of implanted metal; unlike the others he had replaced both of his arms with massive robotic arms, ending in razor-edged claws.
MechaDeuce's gauntlet flared again, and the metal-armed Freak skidded along the cracked asphalt in a tumbling roll. As the dazed Freak sat up drunkenly, the towering armour suit reached down and grabbed the front of his ratty leather jacket, hauling him upright to stand eyeball-to-visor.
"I want some information, Slicer," MechaDeuce's electronically modulated voice was hard-edged, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Where's the weapon, and when are you punks going to try using it?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, cape," Slicer sneered, spitting blood onto the chestplate of his questioner.
"Do I look like I'm wearing a cape?" MechaDeuce's gauntleted fist clenched tighter. "Let me refresh your memory: large long-range focused plasma weapon with psi-shielding, smuggled in pieces into the city. Dossier on Sister Psyche. Ringing any bells in that vacuum you call a brain?"
"I don't know nothin'," Slicer's gaze was bright with hatred. "An' even if I did, I ain't telling some nosy do-gooder in a tin suit. Why don't you mind your own business before you get hurt?"
"By you?" MechaDeuce snorted derisively. "That'll be the...."
Something crashed into the side of his helmet with bruising force, sending waves of blackness shot through with red sparks across his vision. The world spun crazily as warning lights flashed in his helmet viewscreen. As he fought to reorient himself, MechaDeuce felt himself slam into something hard and unyielding with a loud, gritty crunch concrete, he reasoned foggily.
Shaking his head to clear the last of the flashing lights from his vision, he rolled to his feet in a combat crouch. A scant twenty feet away, a very large and bulky Freak covered in heavy metal armour, rusty spikes, and with two massive mallets for arms was stomping towards him.
"Not by me," Slicer's voice oozed malicious satisfaction. "By him."
----------
Psyche settled herself comfortably on the couch, irritably brushing her bangs out of her eyes again. It was blessedly quiet in the lounge the rest of the Freedom Phalanx were off on their own assorted tasks, guaranteeing that she'd have the solitude necessary for what she needed to do. Folding her legs in a lotus position, she closed her eyes and began working at summoning up the calm and concentration required for trying to locate somebody with a mind-scan.
It wasn't easy. She hadn't been entirely joking when she'd asked Positron if he'd had a phone book; contacting somebody telepathically across several city zones when she had only met them once very briefly was almost impossible. Everyone's mind was unique, and it required close contact for an extended period of time before she could just reach out and quickly find somebody amid the confused psychic morass that covered Paragon City. Finding a total stranger was worse than finding the proverbial needle in a haystack.
Irritation tickled at the back of her mind again, and she stifled a sigh as she tried to squelch it so that she could concentrate. She still couldn't quite figure out why one lone armoured hero delivering dire warnings to her would be nagging at the back of her mind as much as it was it wasn't like she'd never had warnings of threats before.
In her mind's eye, she again saw the red-and-silver armour standing in front of her, and caught herself frowning at the image. Maybe it was because he'd presented more of an enigma than she was used to. Usually she had no problems 'reading' somebody when they talked to her, but with him she'd picked up almost no stray thoughts at all. When he'd done that stunt with the strange circuit board, she'd had no clue at all from his thoughts that he'd anticipated what it might do to her psychic senses.
Psyche's eyes shot open again as she suddenly realized that she'd actually picked very few extraneous thoughts up from him at all and that was unusual. He hadn't been using any kind of psi-shielding himself she had picked up on some of his thoughts, after all but for her to not get any anything meant one of two things: either somebody trained to avoid casual mind-reading, or else somebody so focused on something that they were verging on obsession.
Closing her eyes again, Psyche called up the memories of her brief conversation with MechaDeuce again, this time paying closer attention to what she had or hadn't sensed from the armoured hero. She frowned in concentration as she carefully sifted through the memories, replaying the conversation. No, he hadn't been using psionic shielding his thoughts were there, very neatly organized and precisely analytical, but at the same time it almost seemed out of focus to her, muffled somehow.
It was strange - there was a weird overlay to his thought patterns, almost like static on a radio channel. As she examined it, a small smile quirked at her lips. It wasn't much to go on, but if this 'distortion' was unique to his mind, she could use it to locate him. It looked like her odds of finding him had just gone way up.
Composing her thoughts into the disciplined patterns required for mind-scanning, Psyche closed her eyes and began searching the city.
---------
Orange flames blossomed in an expanding cloud of sooty smoke as shrapnel tore the air. The explosion bounced off the nearby buildings with a rolling reverberation as the silver-red armour suit spun crazily out of the air, impacting the side of a warehouse with a sound reminiscent of a car wreck. The abused metal siding held up to the impact, and MechaDeuce banked off the building like an armoured billiard ball as gravity took control of his trajectory.
He landed awkwardly, his helmet bouncing off the pavement as he piled into it with another rattling bang. Trying to ignore the flashing lights again peppering his vision, and the unmistakable taste of blood from somewhere in his mouth, the armoured hero rolled sideways, barely avoiding the massive metal-shod foot that crushed an impact crater into the asphalt where his head had been only moments before.
As he surged to his feet, trying to back-pedal and get some clearance between his enemy and himself, MechaDeuce was clipped with a back-swing from one of the tanker's bludgeoning sledgehammer arms. Metal crunched ominously as he flew backwards again, this time punching a jagged hole through the wall of the long-suffering warehouse.
Coughing and gasping, he floundered around as he skidded to a stop in a pile of shredded metal siding and splintered crates, desperately trying to scramble back onto his feet. It hurt to breathe...it felt like a dozen knives stabbing into his ribs, and taking anything other than a shallow breath was inviting another wracking coughing fit. His armour had held together under the impact, but he was willing to bet that he had at least a cracked rib or two. At the very least, he had to have one hell of a bruise.
Every movement tight with pain, MechaDeuce rolled over to his hands and knees and staggered upright as the tanker started tearing a larger hole into the warehouse to pursue him. Off in the distance, he could hear Slicer braying with laughter and cheering the tanker on.
MechaDeuce made a noise reminiscent of an angry snarl, clenching armoured fists. His arms snapped up and a cascade of bright blue energy roared across the warehouse, tearing the hole wider and flinging the tanker backwards to land in a clattering heap on the pavement beyond.
The armoured hero sprinted for the now-empty hole, sweat breaking out on his face inside his helmet as he gritted his teeth against the complaints from his battered midsection. He had to get out into the open again outdoors he could use his flight system for better mobility, even if it did entail the risk of being shot down with another grenade barrage.
The tanker loomed in front of him, and the red-and-silver battlesuit flared with discharging energy as MechaDeuce instinctively belted him in the chestplate with an empowered gauntlet. The blow crunched home with a very satisfying detonation, hurling the tanker away from him like a metal-clad rag doll.
The tanker slid to a grinding stop a few feet away, and ponderously began clambering back to his feet, a smoking dent visible in the center of the armour plating on his torso.
"That the best you got?" Slicer's voice taunted from the relative safety of several yards away. "You're gonna have to do better than that, cape! We're gonna turn that tin suit of yours into tinfoil!!"
MechaDeuce flashed across the intervening space in an eyeblink, propelled by snarling boot thrusters. His gauntlet flared with energy again, and Slicer was slammed into a nearby wall. After a very satisfactory rebound, the metal-armed Freak toppled to the pavement and lay motionless.
Still hovering, MechaDeuce spun back towards the tanker, who had regained his feet and was thundering towards him with an enraged bellow. The red-and-silver battlesuit smoothly side-slipped another grenade barrage, swooping into a smooth, curving evasion as the tanker tried clipping him with another hit from his arm-hammers. The momentum of his massive bulk carried the tanker past him, and MechaDeuce came to a hovering halt thirty feet away.
Youve had your fun, you walking scrapyard reject, MechaDeuces voice taunted the enraged Freak as he turned around. Now its my turn.
Big deal, came the sneering reply. Take your best shot, tin can!
Thanks, Mechas voice was dry. I will. The red-silver armour was suddenly lined with golden light that shifted into flickering streamers of actinic blue energy, laced with ominous crimson flashes. The energy spread, sheathing Mechas armoured form with a flickering aura that rapidly began brightening. The lens in the center of his armoured chestplate went from a soft blue glow to blazing white incandescence in a heartbeat. The energy field around MechaDeuce seethed and hissed as the surrounding air began ionizing.
You dont scare me!! the Freak bellowed, charging towards the hovering battlesuit. Grenades peppered the pavement around the hovering hero, without causing any apparent harm. The tanker snarled and surged forward as he swung up an arm.
And staggered backwards, a red-and-and silver armoured arm buried in his torso plating almost to the elbow. Metal superheated, and blew outwards from the Tankers back as a massive burst of flaming blue plasma tore through him, ripping apart metal and circuitry like cheap plastic. MechaDeuces visor was mere inches from the stunned Freaks face as he pulled his smoking gauntlet out of the gaping cavity hed just made.
Youre finished, MechaDeuces statement crackled with finality. Why dont you just give up and tell me what I want to know?
NO!! The tanker bellowed, staggering backwards and crashing to one knee. Oily-looking green and black liquid splashed on the pavement around him, raining in a steady drizzle from the hole in his chest as he staggered back to his feet. I aint done yet!! I can still take you out!!
Have it your way then, MechaDeuce sounded disgusted. The energy field around him blazed hotter and brighter, and the crackling hum from his armour transformed into the piercing scream of electronics stressed well beyond the point of normal operating limits.
For one brief moment, the Brickstown warehouse district lit up with almost solar incandescence, overlaid with a detonation that shook the nearby buildings.
&nbsp