"Hey, hey," Superball protested, "what's the problem? This sort of thing happens all the time, yeah? Hell, it's fashionable, right? It's still the new, hip, totally in thing."
Leading Lady opened her mouth, starting to say something. But she didn't manage to complete the thought. Whatever it was she'd planned to say, it just emerged as a choked, incoherently muffled syllable.
Instead of replying, she shut her jaw with an audible click. She deliberately broke eye contact with her colleague - or eye-mask contact, anyway, considering that Superball's face was hidden by fabric and bug-eyed goggles, and shifted her attention to where the emergency responders were loading the unconscious gang members en-masse into waiting ambulances.
Leading Lady held her breath, and counted to ten. Finally, she turned back to Superball. "No, just...no. That's not---I don't even know where to start. There are so many things wrong with that logic."
"C'mon, work with me here," Superball shot back. The masked man twirled his improvised weapon like an oversized baton, the ends rapping loudly against the pavement. "I'm a scrapper, right? Says so on my hero license. That's my archetype. Black and white and everything. Tells people I've got awesome superpowers that let me fight crime in the face."
"That's not---it doesn't...no, it means you're a certified melee specialist," Leading Lady corrected, "it doesn't give you carte blanche to literally rearrange people's faces. We've been over this before. Your scrapper classification doesn't mean you can just---"
"Wait, wait," Superball said, "let me finish. I'm a scrapper, yeah? And you know how staff melee's still a hot new powerset for scrappers, after it came out in the Freedom Phalanx MMO?"
Leading Lady blinked. "Yes," she said cautiously, "there's been some rise in the number of actual registered heroes trying to fight like that, but I don't see how that justifies you---"
"I'm totally allowed to respec," Superball argued, "it totally fits my concept."
"Your...I can't believe I'm saying this...your concept is bad jokes and wisecracks," Leading Lady sighed. "How does hitting Hellions and Skulls with---how does that even fit in with...whatever it is you do?"
Superball held up his 'staff', a badly-dented length of metal. He grinned. His head was completely covered, but the fabric stretched just enough to make it clear he was sporting an exceedingly smug expression.
"Man walks into a bar..."
-- Acyl
Leading Lady opened her mouth, starting to say something. But she didn't manage to complete the thought. Whatever it was she'd planned to say, it just emerged as a choked, incoherently muffled syllable.
Instead of replying, she shut her jaw with an audible click. She deliberately broke eye contact with her colleague - or eye-mask contact, anyway, considering that Superball's face was hidden by fabric and bug-eyed goggles, and shifted her attention to where the emergency responders were loading the unconscious gang members en-masse into waiting ambulances.
Leading Lady held her breath, and counted to ten. Finally, she turned back to Superball. "No, just...no. That's not---I don't even know where to start. There are so many things wrong with that logic."
"C'mon, work with me here," Superball shot back. The masked man twirled his improvised weapon like an oversized baton, the ends rapping loudly against the pavement. "I'm a scrapper, right? Says so on my hero license. That's my archetype. Black and white and everything. Tells people I've got awesome superpowers that let me fight crime in the face."
"That's not---it doesn't...no, it means you're a certified melee specialist," Leading Lady corrected, "it doesn't give you carte blanche to literally rearrange people's faces. We've been over this before. Your scrapper classification doesn't mean you can just---"
"Wait, wait," Superball said, "let me finish. I'm a scrapper, yeah? And you know how staff melee's still a hot new powerset for scrappers, after it came out in the Freedom Phalanx MMO?"
Leading Lady blinked. "Yes," she said cautiously, "there's been some rise in the number of actual registered heroes trying to fight like that, but I don't see how that justifies you---"
"I'm totally allowed to respec," Superball argued, "it totally fits my concept."
"Your...I can't believe I'm saying this...your concept is bad jokes and wisecracks," Leading Lady sighed. "How does hitting Hellions and Skulls with---how does that even fit in with...whatever it is you do?"
Superball held up his 'staff', a badly-dented length of metal. He grinned. His head was completely covered, but the fabric stretched just enough to make it clear he was sporting an exceedingly smug expression.
"Man walks into a bar..."
-- Acyl