Re: to this
Enter Eileen Fawkes. Level 50 Robotics/Dark Mastermind.
__________________________________
"You can't bring that in here it's neutra-"
The bouncer at the door had his words cut short by the signature ping of plasma blast cannons just behind her as the mammoth metal colossus hunkered down ready
for battle. The raven haired, doll in front of it merely checking her manicure for imperfections with the other hand to her hip.
"I can do one of two things right now, one is disarm him or arm his Incendiary Missiles... I'm gonna let you decide which"
Either arms crossing in front of her with a prideful and immune look on her face "but I aint going in without him."
"Lady... it's a club not a war zone." the bouncer attempting to disarm her attitude problem.
Her brow lofting a moment with a curl of her fist to her mouth lightly to clear her throat. The metal giant stepped forward to her side its sheer weight shook
the pavement underfoot as it did. With a steely echo of clicking and ticking servos and the hissing of hydraulic actuators it settled as the missile tubes
opened up showing off its payload. In a deep metallic and emotionless tone, it barked back at the bouncer.
"You Have Twenty Seconds To Comply"
Much to her surprise the bouncer didn't suddenly fear for his mortality as he rolled his eyes at her. "Put. The. Toy. Away." With the order she
stared through him and took over terrorizing the silly little man into a recoiled mass of shivering pansy.
A tiny bean pole of a lady in a cliche little red dress offset by the black trench coat that fluttered behind her as she walked. This massive, mechanical,
giant following closely, and loudly, behind her.
She wasn't the only from the wrong side of the tracks present as she presented herself the way most of her fellow rogues and thieves would. Pompous,
arrogant, with total disregard for the law and a low level of tolerance for those of the more heroic nature.
She always made it a point to show up for the mingling events if only to spend her time conning a hero into questioning his or her occupational choice. This
speed dating fiasco was no exception and she arrived with the style and flair of someone who's faced down Lord Recluse and the horde of Statesman's
lackeys.
Sitting calmly in a less lit corner at a table she waited as her mechanical counterpart took up residence by the entrance with a clear shot at his mistress.
(Minus a few innocent bystanders naturally) One after another she'd wait out potential suitors for the few seconds she'd be accosted.
The keypad at her wrist ticking away softly under her perfect nails as she all but seemed to ignore what she classified as foolish questions. Rolling her eyes
at the standard questions that seemed pulled straight out of a model profile one would find in a copy of Playboy. Hero and villain alike if they didn't
meet the standard visual and auditory requirements.
By the time someone with any significant security clearance sat down in front of her she'd already collected a pile of numbers she'd never call in the
center of the table. Masochistic males who'll tolerate a woman who's just going to wipe her stilettos off on them. Tall, thin, kinda scruffy and he
threw out that 'interests' question.
That's it.
Without bothering to eye up from the display of scrolling data on her wrist "... advanced robotics, or rather, the tactical application thereof in combat
situations."
"like those robots SWAT teams use to disarm bombs?"
"More like Mister Tall, dark and metallic standing over by the door" ticking a finger over the display she snapped it closed and glanced across the
table to eye the suitor over with an analytical eye.
Again she curled her fist just over her mouth and cleared her throat as perky as she could muster "Math is hard, teehee" a dull annoyed sort of
glance across the table at him as she reverted to her norm. "Best of luck to you, hero" near insult in the way she voiced the final word foregoing
the buzzer to walk out of the club. That mass of metallic death standing upright and falling into step behind her.
Enter Eileen Fawkes. Level 50 Robotics/Dark Mastermind.
__________________________________
"You can't bring that in here it's neutra-"
The bouncer at the door had his words cut short by the signature ping of plasma blast cannons just behind her as the mammoth metal colossus hunkered down ready
for battle. The raven haired, doll in front of it merely checking her manicure for imperfections with the other hand to her hip.
"I can do one of two things right now, one is disarm him or arm his Incendiary Missiles... I'm gonna let you decide which"
Either arms crossing in front of her with a prideful and immune look on her face "but I aint going in without him."
"Lady... it's a club not a war zone." the bouncer attempting to disarm her attitude problem.
Her brow lofting a moment with a curl of her fist to her mouth lightly to clear her throat. The metal giant stepped forward to her side its sheer weight shook
the pavement underfoot as it did. With a steely echo of clicking and ticking servos and the hissing of hydraulic actuators it settled as the missile tubes
opened up showing off its payload. In a deep metallic and emotionless tone, it barked back at the bouncer.
"You Have Twenty Seconds To Comply"
Much to her surprise the bouncer didn't suddenly fear for his mortality as he rolled his eyes at her. "Put. The. Toy. Away." With the order she
stared through him and took over terrorizing the silly little man into a recoiled mass of shivering pansy.
A tiny bean pole of a lady in a cliche little red dress offset by the black trench coat that fluttered behind her as she walked. This massive, mechanical,
giant following closely, and loudly, behind her.
She wasn't the only from the wrong side of the tracks present as she presented herself the way most of her fellow rogues and thieves would. Pompous,
arrogant, with total disregard for the law and a low level of tolerance for those of the more heroic nature.
She always made it a point to show up for the mingling events if only to spend her time conning a hero into questioning his or her occupational choice. This
speed dating fiasco was no exception and she arrived with the style and flair of someone who's faced down Lord Recluse and the horde of Statesman's
lackeys.
Sitting calmly in a less lit corner at a table she waited as her mechanical counterpart took up residence by the entrance with a clear shot at his mistress.
(Minus a few innocent bystanders naturally) One after another she'd wait out potential suitors for the few seconds she'd be accosted.
The keypad at her wrist ticking away softly under her perfect nails as she all but seemed to ignore what she classified as foolish questions. Rolling her eyes
at the standard questions that seemed pulled straight out of a model profile one would find in a copy of Playboy. Hero and villain alike if they didn't
meet the standard visual and auditory requirements.
By the time someone with any significant security clearance sat down in front of her she'd already collected a pile of numbers she'd never call in the
center of the table. Masochistic males who'll tolerate a woman who's just going to wipe her stilettos off on them. Tall, thin, kinda scruffy and he
threw out that 'interests' question.
That's it.
Without bothering to eye up from the display of scrolling data on her wrist "... advanced robotics, or rather, the tactical application thereof in combat
situations."
"like those robots SWAT teams use to disarm bombs?"
"More like Mister Tall, dark and metallic standing over by the door" ticking a finger over the display she snapped it closed and glanced across the
table to eye the suitor over with an analytical eye.
Again she curled her fist just over her mouth and cleared her throat as perky as she could muster "Math is hard, teehee" a dull annoyed sort of
glance across the table at him as she reverted to her norm. "Best of luck to you, hero" near insult in the way she voiced the final word foregoing
the buzzer to walk out of the club. That mass of metallic death standing upright and falling into step behind her.