Scene #3747: Conference Call

Owner	Pose
Mel Brock	While it's not /often/ an entire galactic alliance opts into the Union, it's not unheard of by any stretch of the imagination, and on the whole so many new nations join the Union so often that even this hasn't earned a particularly large amount of fanfare. Still, they're /just/ big enough that the Union has decided to give them an extra warm welcome, and indulge their curiosity about Elites. Most of the political bigwigs seem to have some idea that they're inviting literal shining gods to their world, or something. At the very least, responding to the notice put out over the Union network provides a chance to demonstrate that just about anyone can be an Elite. It also offers a chance to meet the STA's official 'first pick' for their own contribution to the Elite Corps, and give whoever it is the official forms. So while the press conference in one part of the conference hall in Seattle winds down, those showing up under the banner of the Union - or even just able to slip in and pass for 'supposed to be here' - have been led to another, where a meeting room has been cleared out a bit, furnished with several tables (and accompanying chairs), and bestowed with an array of snacks and refreshments. Several STA officials are milling about, including a few in business suits, several in what looks like some sort of military dress uniform, and a pair seated at one table in a different sort of uniform; consisting of a smoke-grey longcoat over a smart navy-blue jumpsuit. Both jumpsuit and longcoat bear an emblem marking them as 'STA Marshals'. The two Marshals are the only people in the room with that look of 'blue collar workers in a white collar world' - which is to say, 'both out of place and uncomfortable', going by their body language.
Amalthea	The only Refreshment Amalthea bothers with is the coffee. The unicorn is here, serving mainly in a halfassed observational capacity, at best, having been told this would just mainly be a conference and meet and greet. Still, she's in her armor for formality's sake, settled in a seat and drinking coffee like water. For the record, she doesn't look uncomfortable in such a situation. ... Mainly bored. The unicorn's lone eye flits from the officials to the Marshals in the room, focusing on them more considering they- or at least one of them is going to be who she's more likely to work with on a more constant basis in the upcoming days. Hopefully. If she has to work with pencil pushers she's probably going to bash her head against a wall for a while.
Homura Akemi	Out of class and immediatly assigned to something. That is roughly Homura's luck in a nutshell, but on the other hand she hadn't done anything significant in a while so stretching herself out of either class or hunting local threats might not be such a bad idea. Having paid little mind to the press conference in favor of taking a quick look around, Homura is nonetheless on time when they're lead to a meeting room. Dressed in a clean suit, pants, not a skirt, the black-haired young woman-- she is eighteen now, odd as that is to consider due to a number of time-related reasons-- pushes her glasses up, with her hair untied saved for the red ribbon atop her head. There might be an Union tag somewhere on her suit, in lieu of wearing a full uniform. Probably for the best, matching uniforms across infinite worlds is probably hard. She's with Amalthea, if only because she knows the unicorn, and they can be quiet together. Quiet is nice, when nothing needs said. She's waiting for the obvious 'the Union sent us a girl and a unicorn, seriously'.
Zwei	Well guess who isn't a Unionite here today. You only get one though, because it's obvious. Who else can pass for anyone who looks like they're supposed to be somewhere, isn't a direct enemy of the Union, and has a vested interest in scoping out any kind of spacefaring civilization? Asche is getting something of a break from constant combat as the affair of a conference doesn't lend well to massive war machines, making it Weiss' job to show up. She's masked the blank, uncoloured aesthetic by infusing her skin and hair with some actual colour, option for black hair, blue eyes and a complexion that looks like someone who spends all their time on a ship. She's gone through the trouble to fabricate a uniform too, though even if it looks convincingly official, it doesn't actually belong to any corps, and favours her usual dark greys, blacks and accented green with silver buttons. The conference hall itself isn't terribly interesting. It all looks like standard fare, and so Weiss only keeps a cursory bead on the vital signatures and energy emissions of the people in the room, so she can track them around just in case anything eventful happens. She first opts to ignore the military types however, expecting a lesser ability to explain anything than the designated officials. She can go to them afterwards for the straightforward version and anything the suits have left out. She approaches the first black tie she sees, interposing herself in his way in a casually officious manner, clearly looking him over with a feigned, critical expression. "Well, let's hear it then. What subject are we on if we're all supposed to be here? I didn't listen to a word of the press release. They're always useless. I want to hear it from someone without flash cards." Her voice is an octave deeper, brusque and mildly impatient.
Maya	This was not a common thing, yet it wasn't an every day thing either. So here was Maya one of the longest serving elites in this sector has shown up. She doesn't seem that too out of place save for the slighty visable tatto work on her forarms that looks pretty much to be tribal looking. Other than she's got long blue hair going down to her rear, and is wearing osmething fittint to be out and casual in the 2000s of various iterations of earth. She's also got some sort of wrist comp. She looekd to be in a good mood though as she was curious to meet them. She was also playing with a glowing blue ball of energy between her hands while she waited things out.
Mel Brock	Well, whatever the suits were expecting, it wasn't a humanoid robot unicorn with rainbow hair and a bored expression. The military people are at least being subtle about their glances. But the civilian politicians, they're pretty openly glancing Amalthea's way, and often. The Marshals at the table give her a few looks themselves, and when they notice they seem to have her attention in turn, the man sitting back in his chair gives her a quick, beckoning wave. He seems to know his own by sight, so to speak. With such a striking figure next to her, Homura is attracting relatively less attention, but only relatively. The fact she's sticking with Amalthea is enough for most of those present to infer she's with the Union as well, even without the tag, so she's the subject of at least a little curiosity herself. 'She looks so young.' 'Is she the robot's handler or something?' 'Psychic maybe?' And so on. If anything, though, the Marshals are watching her a bit more intently than they are Amalthea. Zwei/Weiss (Zweiss?), meanwhile, goes completely and totally unquestioned for the simple fact that people are assuming she's press. She gets a few upturned noses, so to speak, on that fact alone; but no one seems inclined to toss her out. The 'black tie' she approaches, however - an Indian woman in her early 50s, by the look of her - briefly develops the look of one who has drawn the short straw. But she's quick to hide it behind a practiced 'welcoming calm', sliding into a smooth politician's voice. "It's the formal announcement of the STA's siding with the Union. The press conference was all about the various legal and financial changes that are going to be put through, and this is more for all of us to get a better look at the fine men and women who will be joining the Marshals and Navy in defending us. I didn't know they were going to let any press in, but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Worth calling in a few favors, isn't it?" she adds, nodding towards Amalthea. Meanwhile, with visible tattoo work, Maya has garnered a fair bit of attention herself, but it seems to be lest 'open gawking' than what Amalthea and Homura are getting. Even with that ball of energy, they don't seem quite so astounded by her presence, though it /does/ keep them looking. She's approached by a waitress, however, offering a tray with an array of drinks, from water to cola to wine. It's not like they had any idea what an Elite would drink, after all. So they stocked a little bit of everything.
Zwei	/Is this for real?/ //I came here by choice.// /Well yeah but are they just assuming anyone who doesn't look like an anime heroine isn't from the Union?/ //There is no Union identification on the uniform regardless.// /So? There are a ton of factions around here! Only one person is even wearing a pin!/ //Then interpret it as a favour.// "Press?" Weiss has to say in a slightly sour tone. "Do you see me with a camera? I'm not officially on the Union's payroll but I expect at least /some/ level of respect from a military official." Okay that's kind of not lying. Zwei technically does have a pending rank in the Aussterben and the Starbound Flotilla is /sort/ of military right? "And what are you offering in return for manpower for what I'm sure is another interplanetary meat grinder? I don't suppose you're exchanging any of these Marshals or Marines in response." It's a bit of a leading question. It doesn't seem like they would have dragged a couple of uncomfortable grunts here if they didn't intend to do so.
Homura Akemi	"I am not her handler," Homura says, casually flicking her hair to the side to capitalize on her answer. "As you should be well aware, a unicorn can only be seen by a pure little girl, and requires significant imagination to manifest. Without me to anchor her to this reality, she would cease to exist," she answers flatly, before managing the smallest hint of a smile towards Amalthea. There, see. Nasty rumors have been supplanted, with better ones. Maybe it's just how she amuses herself now. It's... probably Psyber's fault. Some of his habits have rubbed off on her over the year and her ability to, every once in a while, crack out a dry joke at Amalthea's expense (or whoever else), is probably one of those. You find a way to cope! But, as much as meeting the brass might be interesting for some people, Homura would like to get to the point. "When do we meet your agent?"
Amalthea	Bored, ever crabby looking, and drinking all the coffee. Don't forget, that last part is the most important one. For every stare and gawping look of disbelief, she simply stares right back, lone blue eye locking eyes where possible, with the old, tired, lack of concern for mortal matters that could be expected of an immortal beast, right over the rim of her mug, while mechanical fingers buzz gently. With a completely casual motion, because the Puella Magi is right next to her, she pours Homura a cup of coffee too, proving that she can, in fact, share the magical caffienated elixir, while also waiting for the expected incredulity. "Uhn." The mechanical mythic's response is a vague and laconic grunt when the woman nods in her direction, before she sets her mug down for the first time this meetup began. "Was never much for the press myself, but they've got their pruposes. Aye, so who'll we be liaisoning with from this point forward?" She pauses briefly, lone eye sllllllloooowly sliding sidewards to peer at Homura, one loppy ear pricked. Amalthea places her hand upon the mug she poured for Homura. And slides it away. "You've lost coffee privelidges." Let it be known, members of the STA: Unicorns are territorial when it comes to caffiene.
Maya	Maya has got a bit of attention, but she's not complaining about getting less than say Amalthea. She doesn't seem bothered by it at all. When she's offered something to drink, she'l take a soda, she's techinally on the clock and doesn't want to end up clouding her mind, thusly. She'll thank the waitress and go to enjoy said drink while she listens to the woman who seems to be a politician's. Memories of Dougan flare up for a moment, but she presses them down. Homura's words get a big damn grin on Maya's face, yet she says nothing /to refute it. Oh no Amalthea is on her own against this. "I'm curious about whom we will be working with, as well. Also my name is Maya." She doesn't give a last name, does she have one? Who knows Maya's not telling and maybe a few in union command know /what/ Maya's actual family name /is/.
Amalthea	Thusly, with Homura no longer allowed coffee for the evening, Amalthea rises, both mugs in hand with a mild, 'Excuse me'. She's headed over to the marshals. Maybe she can relate to them more than some now very confused white collars that think Homura imagined her into existence or something.
Mel Brock	Once again, there's that brief moment of expression from the woman before she hides it. "Oh, my apologies, I didn't mean to offend. I'm not quite a military official myself, though. Adel Mahadeo, planetary governor of Atlas." She holds her hand out for a rather obligatory, perfunctory shake. "It's an important staging world for the Stellar Navy. Obviously this isn't just going to be a one-sided affair. The STA will be acting as a waystation for Union forces where they need us, and we'll also be sending out our own ships and personnel where necessary. Part of this event is so we can introduce our own candidate for the Union's Elite, whom I'm sure will-" Weiss is spared further discourse by the interruption of... The politician to whom Homura is responding looks slightly mortified that his murmur was actually overheard. But he and the others present also listen to what she says with rapt fascination - they have absolutely no reason to disbelieve her. Well, most of them don't. One or two seem to catch on that it's some sort of trick, but they hide their own small smiles quite well. Having been asked a question, the target of Homura's subtle tease replies, "Ah, I don't know for certain, you'd do better to ask the Marshals over there, she's with them. I imagine she'll be here any-" He proves more right than he expected, because... Amalthea is doing a good job of making a lot of people very uncomfortable, meanwhile. They didn't expect her to just stare back like that. And there's a lot of suddenly-distracted shuffling, talking, and other milling about, all in an effort to no longer look as if they're staring. Seeing Amalthea finally step away from the table, however, they look inordinately relieved. Access to coffee again. Meanwhile, as Amalthea approaches their table, both Marshals sit up a little in their chairs, the man giving her lazy wave. "You look about as comfortable in this group as I feel. STA Marshals. Misha Sanders, dispatch committee. This is Maybell Kraus, senior council." The latter nods, sitting back in her chair again, and adds. "We're here to hand over your new recruit, more or less. She's supposed to be here already." Sanders shakes his head, chuckling. "Knowing her, she ran into some mugging on the way over. She's got that kind of-" Here he stops short, when... Maya has attracted the attention of one of the women in a naval uniform, who inclines her head. "Admiral Ann Collins, STA Stellar Navy. Pleasure, miss. We submitted a few of ours for consideration, but the politicians decided to go with one of the PsiMarshals instead. Still think a military candidate would have been better, but I suppose if I had to pick anyone outside the navy, it'd be her. She's-" Admiral Collins is spared the need to explain herself, after...
Mel Brock	...the screech of tires and the blare of police sirens echoes through the hall from outside, followed by the sound of a crashing car. Almost immediately, there is a thunderous voice from what sounds like directly above the conference center, an authoritative woman's voice broadcast over some very powerful loudspeakers. "THIS IS THE STA MARSHALS. STEP OUT OF THE VEHICLE WITH YOUR HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD, AND DO NOT MAKE ANY SUDDEN MOVEMENTS TOWARDS THE CYGNAN HOWLER MONKEY. I REPEAT. STEP OUT OF THE VEHICLE WITH YOUR HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD, AND DO /NOT/ MAKE ANY SUDDEN MOVEMENTS TOWARDS THE CAGE." Sanders looks as if he would very much like to crawl into a hole right now. "...luck. And that would be her."
Zwei	"So I see." Weiss remarks drily. The entire exchange seeming in no shape to recover from its forced and rote nature, and so she responds to the handshake anyways, simulated body heat and pressure being indistinguishable from the real thing. "I was hoping you'd say something like that. It should be obvious, but I'm interested in seeing the kind of ship you people run here. I'm expecting better than a merely passable performance for all this fanfare." Of course, she can hear well across the room pretty easily. The new Elite, and this the new persona to keep close tabs on, is one of these Marshals. Two of her seniors are here to introduce her, as she seems to have something of an infamous reputation. The word 'psi' pops up in there as well, denoting some extra classification and typically psychic powers if the usual conventions follow, and she seems to be held in high regard despite of some notoriously bad luck, instantly demonstrated before anyone finished their last sentences. Well it's not like she's going to stay inside while this happens, right? This is an intel gathering mission! Weiss excuses herself immediately from the reluctant suit, turning around and slipping deftly through the crowd right towards the front entrance, her Transience Drive depositing a raiser handgun from her matter manipulator core add-on into her pocket so she can draw it naturally later if necessary.
Homura Akemi	Those officers who do catch on might get the slightest hint of respect from the magical girl, if she were the sort of voice that. It's not like it's malicious, she's sure these people do much worse to each other on initiation day. Heaven knows college students do, surely those in the military or police force don't shy away from more extreme pranks. 'Any minute', he says, so at least they won't be waiting long. Robbed of coffee, she's argue with Amalthea the joke EARNED her coffee if not for a loud car crash, sirens, what is probably megaphone-volume shouting, and the assurance of those present their chosen agent has arrived. That's very reassuring. "I'm sorry, you're going to have to explain what sort of monkey that is, because I've not heard that particular name before. I'm going to assume the large and dangerous kind before even stepping out of here to go see what's happening, mind." Can't hurt to get advice from these people before going out to do their job. Or, well... no, really, they might not have to do anything here. Surely they can handle... whatever this is, if their choice agent is present? Might as well head out the door to at least see what's up, but she isn't going to arm herself. (Also, obviously, she is going to wait for that monkey explanation before actually stepping outside.)
Amalthea	Amalthea? Comfortable around important people and officials for official stuff? Well she has an untouched mug of coffee in her hand, and what better gift to make as a potential peace offering than to set it down in front of Sanders and Kraus. Whichever of them wants it can have it. "I prefer the field over meet and greets." She answers pretty honestly. "Or at least if I'm gonna meet fresh faces, to keep things informal and as far from stuff as can be." Okay maybe around these two she can relax a bit. They're professionals just like her, and make a career out of essentially the same thing, running around and nearly getting killed doing arguably absurd, awesome, and or suicidal things. And then tires screech, and loudspeakers blare. "I think I like her already." Right, it's probably a good thing Amalthea wore her armor. If anything, she has learned that no publicised meetup is ever, ever, safe after that ordeal with gun toting elves, orcs, and dwarves holding a bunch of Japanese high schoolers hostage. She is never going to live that incident down. "'Scuse me, I think I just found a way to make myself useful here." She says, politely excusing herself to go see the source of the commotion.
Maya	Maya sys "Good to meet you Admiral." Maya doesn't seem to have the waryness of military personel that poltical figured seem to give her. She'll offer the woman hwr hand to shake and grins faintly. "Well it can really depend, we get all kinds. From things you might consider to be fiction like my home world would likely be to, worlds very similar at least on a glance to yours. Still that's some pretty high praise. Also I'm certin your forces will prove to be good allies." She then pauses as something comes crashing in the party. "...So that's her? Well I wasn't quite expecting this..."
Mel Brock	Homura gets her reply from Kraus, who is standing up smoothly. "Neither of the above, but it's very rare and /very/ valuable." Sanders, on the other hand, is muttering something under his breath, probably profane. He does see fit to at least speak up briefly, with a quick grumble of, "There was supposed to be some animal smuggling going through here, but seriously, Brock, how in the hell..." Both of them are already on a brisk march towards the exits themselves, Sanders speaking into a small headset radio he slides on. "Brock, you read? It's Sanders. How the hell did you... no, nevermind, I don't want to know. I'm coming out with the Elites. Try not to stare at the robot unicorn girl." Pause. "Yeah. Absolutely joking. Ha ha." There's just a wee bit of carnage outside. Just a smidge. Two police hovercars are pulling into the best blockade they can manage on short notice, cutting off at least one escape vector for the people who apparently led the merry chace to this location. They did so in what appears to be an older, wheeled model of truck, with the back open to reveal a bolted-down cage which contains a modest-sized simian of some variety or other. It is very agitated, and very vocal about being agitated. The truck is not going anywhere after that crash, but its human occupants, on the other hand, are very much trying. Or at least, one of them is. The passenger-side occupant has stepped out, and is booking it down the street in a direction that is 'away from the cop cars' before any more can cut off that avenue of escape. The driver, on the other hand, looks as if he's lucky to be alive after that; he's apparently getting down on his knees amiably, bringing his hands up over his head in slow, deliberate movements... at least until he suddenly swings them downward, and the two police vehicles suddenly fire up, turn themselves around, and smash into each other. The police dive away from them for safety, one of them yelling, "Technopath!" There's a third person, but they're staying in the back of the truck, very near the cage. The vehicle circling above probably can't see them from this angle. With the commotion starting on the ground, said vehicle swings around until it's over a low rooftop and comes to a stop. Sleek and red, about the size of a minivan, it hangs there easily, a side door opening up to let a tall woman out. She wears a similar uniform to Sanders and Kraus, save for the metal pauldrons on her coat's shoulders, and doesn't look bothered by standing on the very edge of the rooftop. She has a small handset into her hand, into which she speaks - causing the ship to broadcast her voice over loudspeakers. "This is STA Marshal Brock. The two of you have exactly ten seconds to stop resisting arrest and submit yourselves to law enforcement, or- ...you're not even listening, are you. Alright, the hard way it is. Sanders, you mind asking our new friends for help?" Sanders turns to look at Amalthea, Homura, Maya and Weiss. He pauses on the edge of saying something a couple times, before finally just letting out a sigh. "No excessive force, that's all I ask. Other than that, you folks do what you do best."
Zwei	Well look at this. Monkey smuggling, old style trucks, hovercars, probable psychics, and remote controlling technology without assistance. It's quite a mishmash of usually exclusive elements; enough so to be interesting to say the least. Weiss turns her neck to look up at the hovering vehicle settling down up top, and more specifically, the woman climbing out of it, clearly the one late to the ceremony. At the very least, Zwei can't fault them for being so because she's doing her job.r "Looking for a free demonstration? If I didn't know better I'd say this was on purpose." Weiss intones totally insincerely, taking split milliseconds to assess what to do. The one in the back of the truck isn't anyone's concern since he can't reach the wheel or shoot anyone without moving towards a window or the front seat in an obvious fashion. The one booking it on foot would be easy to catch for likely anyone here, and if he isn't, she can hunt him down later easily. The so called 'technopath' has more of her interest, and so she spends just the barest moment blasting several scanning frequencies on him to detect electromagnetics or metallic compounds that would indicate some kind of implant or hidden device, before retrieving her pre-deployed weapon quickdraw style. She dials the power way the hell down, fluttering the trigger mostly for show as the muzzle point of the block of black carbon semi-metal near-silently fires a rapid burst of slivers of white light, lancing with pinpoint, hyper accurate precision towards the man's arms and shoulders to drill a series of narrow, cauterized holes through his joints and tendons. The application of force is precise enough that Weiss doesn't even feel the need to try and resort to less-than-lethal measures. Besides, she might want to infer what kind of medical technology they have here too.
Maya	Maya is watching the carnage just thinking, hey she didn't cause this, for once. She gets the warning of a tehnopath and at lest what it can imply. She's already moving for a deck of cards, that she had in one of her cargo pant's pockets. She checks the cards for a moment, almost seems to be shuffling them for a moment. "I would be happy to help and humm then i'll have ot hold back some, then again my rifle's not here." She pulls a card now it's glowing a sickly green colour, even more noticably to the locals? Blue fire seems to be leeching from Maya's body into the card as she attempts to lay a curse down on the suspect in an attempt to lay a curse upon the technopath weakning their body, making them slower, weaker, hopefully. The glowing card meanwhile loses it's glow after Maya fisnes the spell and she's going for another one.
Amalthea	That's right. Robot Unicorn coming through. Making her way out of the building to the source of the commotion and racket, Amalthea is in no particular rush until something goes wrong right now, rather simply easing her shield off her back and onto her arm, tugging the straps good and tight as she steps out and is faced with the sight of the impromptu mini blockade and the crashed truck in question, she surveys the sight. "Tch." Okay then. When Sanders turns to her, the armored unicorn knight simply lifts her shoulders in a blase shrug. "I am but a humble sparkling unicorn, I live to serve the whims of pure hearted teenagers. Oh and maul criminals from time to time, but I'll keep the mess down, don't worry." Of course she motions to Homura and Maya to commence their thing, knowing she can trust them to exercise caution and discretion just as well on request. The sight of the Technopath, however earns a momentary pause. Her first action is to cut the fuel line and power on her own jump pack, before she does a thing, stepping forward with sword drawn, "Gentlemen, I believe the good officer of the law made a request. She is being nice. I'm going to be less so." Noted as she begins charging. She's going after the one that made a break down the street, while Weiss drills the technopath. And she is fast. Boots tear up pavement in her wake as she sprints at a full tilt gallop, steam venting from her joints every step of the way. If this guy doesn't slow down and stop, she's just going to steam-roll flying tackle him. That's not TOO much of excessive force is it?
Homura Akemi	So it's not a monstrous killer monkey, just a very valuable monkey? ... they're having to deal with people who just busted a monkey out of a zoo somewhere? Huh, so that's what it's like feeling like you're maybe a bit overqualified for a job. That is, until the display of psychic powers(?) makes two cars crash into each other. This is no longer just a simple animal heist, if that's even what it was. It was predictable but it's no less surprising. Must be one VERY valuable monkey. "I'll stand back and help Amalthea exist," Homura answers Sanders, not venturing past the door of the hall once outside. The magical girl keeps her eyes fixed on the newly arrived officer, seeing as how the Union will likely expect some sort of attachment to the report detailing the new recruit's contributions. When you've got a way to examine everything in slow motion you can cheese inspections like that pretty trivially. She doesn't really do anything though! Oh, a couple of rubber bullets streak through the air towards the SUPERVILLAINS (we are defaulting to this for now), largely because Homura isn't sure if that was sheer telekinesis, manipulation of metal, or something else. Rubber rounds might help narrow that down, and will avoid killing, at the cost of being... well, rubber. Gun-propelled rubber but still. Naturally there's no hint the magical girl did anything, except maybe a slight blur around her, and the fact if someone checked her pockets they'd find the spent casings she caught and stuffed in there.
Mel Brock	Brock's response to Zwei comes in an old-fashioned yell rather than via loudspeaker. "If I could plan something out like this, my life would be a hell of a lot easier!" The technopath, meanwhile, reads as completely organic, not a single implant to him. He sees Weiss and Amalthea both, and immediately holds his hands out in their direction... only to stop and boggle as neither Weiss's weapon nor Amalthea's 'everything' are kind enough to submit to his control. Weiss might feel a faint 'tug' on her weapon, but the man is not powerful enough to come anywhere near overriding her. Homura's rubber bullets batter him enough to shatter his concentration; the two police vehicles almost instantly power down and drop to the pavement. He starts to lift his hands again, in a bid to reassert control and perhaps turn them into weapons against the gathered Elites, but Maya's curse wracks his body, stalling that attempt before it starts. And then he develops a series of very precise, very painful and very (relatively) safe wounds, and with a very pained sound he drops to the pavement as well. From inside the truck, there is a yelp of shocked pain out of a very surprised third smuggler, who just got nailed with rubber bullets as well from who-the-hell-knows-where. The firearm he was holding drops to the floor of the cargo space. The Cygnan howler continues to make very agitated noises. Sanders seems to have missed Homura's trick. But Kraus was fortunate enough to be looking her way at the instant of the strange, faint blur, and after hearing the sudden simultaneous sounds of people being hit by things, she's looking between the crooks and Homura with confusion, interest and a hint of wariness. Amalthea probably doesn't even feel a thing when the technopath tries to manipulate her; she's too different from what his ability works on. Amalthea's own powers of sarcasokinesis, on the other hand, work quite well on Sanders, who snorts despite himself. The fleeing smuggler is not nearly as fast as a robotic unicorn for whom 'running' is an integral, instinctive behavior. He's fine with just running at top speed, headed for the next intersection where he can veer off and slip the net, so to speak; but Amalthea is going to catch up to him well before he gets there. As she closes in, he turns to look for the source of that strange, unfamiliar sound barreling in behind him... and she's rewarded with an utterly perplexed expression and an aborted exclamation of, "What the f-" before she slams into him. That's gonna be some cracked ribs, for sure. But at least he's caught! By now, the police and Marshal Sanders are stepping in, the latter pulling something from his coat that looks like a very high-tech pair of handcuffs. He's headed straight for the technopath, while one cop heads towards the back of the truck (weapon drawn, just in case) and the other moves down the street towards Amalthea and her perp. Brock, meanwhile, has taken to speaking animatedly over her own radio, looking towards the sky with a frown.
Zwei	Weiss would frown at that sensation pinging from the link between her AI base and her gun, if she actually had that as a reflexive, instinctual expression. Instead she plays it off as if nothing had happened, rapidly checking the weapon's software framework and re-occupying it with that fragment of Zwei's intelligence just to purge any lind of lingering presence that might be there, before stowing it away in her pocket. She looks to the disarmed gunman, and then to the runner being ploughed under by the assuredly very heavy unicorn, allowing a faint smile to show on her face. "Does that wrap up your job nicely enough?" she says, still wearing that brusque persona, turning to face Brock up on the roof by craning her neck. "So did this just run on too long for you or were you suddenly ambushed on the way here? It seems like a stroke of luck that you got to exactly the place you were supposed to be before this kind of standoff happened. Nobody died either." She's mildly disappointed that she didn't get to see the Marshal do anything. It's difficult to really assess her worth that way.
Maya	Maya is working with people she has a good deal of experiance with such as Amathea, or knows the reptuation of very well such as Homura. Zwei is less well know but still has proven they know what they are doing. Maya is clearly keeping herself restrained as she is not unloading with the full force of her magic. She is also moving in at this point casting another spell, but with two cards this time. One glows red, the other glows blue and soon glowing wards would cover her allies, that being the other elites, or locals involved with bringing these guys in would find they are warded against attacks. A glowing gold magic circle would appear under their feet for a moment, before fading to a faint golden glow about thier bodies.
Homura Akemi	Right back to overqualified it is. Homura glances towards the police officers, who seem to have this handled now. She lacks a banana on her person and so does not attempt to interact with an agitated monkey. Guess that just leaves greeting the new recruit, barring something going incredibly wrong in the next few minutes. It's so rare an encounter finishes quite this quickly, she can't help but be on her toes. Then again Homura would be on her toes while rummaging in her fridge, so that doesn't really tell anyone anything useful. "So, while we're waiting for your officer to come down from there, care to give us a quick debriefing on what a technopath is? That crashing cars stunt was pretty impressure, so I'm assuming it's a mix of psychic powers and technology, by the name?" she asks Sanders, assuming a moment can be spared. The term psi did get mentioned earlier, didn't it...?
Amalthea	'What the f-' is about the right question to ask when a small, solid wall, of silver, rainbows, and sparkles, comes to meet you from behind at top speed. It's too bad, really. If the guy had stopped, Amalthea would have just headlocked him. Now he's going to be feeling those ribs for a while, after the full throttle rush from the miniature pain train that is the unicorn. Amalthea picks herself up. Though she leaves her victim-- perp- right where he is, confident that he will not simply be getting up to walk it off after that. Someone else can cuff him as she dusts herself off and makes her way back. Totally a sparkling and magical example of what the pure hearted can dream up. "Debrief would be nice." She seconds Homura. "Akemi or I are gonna have to file a report about this debacle now that something more exciting than shaking hands happened." She adds before her attention is on Brock. "That's her right?" Yeah that's her. "I think if she deals with stuff like this every day, she'll probably make it just fine."
Mel Brock	From here, things are rather procedural; the perps are read a set of rights that sound fairly close to the Union standard already, and a few of the officers look amazed as the warding magic from Maya envelops them. Sanders gives a glance to his fellow Marshal when Homura asks a question, then goes about the process of cuffing the technopath, with the cuffs he's using lighting up as soon as they're locked around his wrists. So Kraus is the one to oblige Homura and Amalthea, putting her hands in her pockets; now that the action's over, she's back to her role as a supervisor. "It's pure psychic. Pretty rare, at that. Telepathic ability to manipulate electronics. Not the same as Electrokinesis; more like a psychic messing with a person's mind, except for technology. They're still not sure how something so specific like that works, beyond 'mystery of the human mind'." She doesn't seem to have much care for that 'explanation'. "Doesn't look like it did much to you," she adds to Amalthea. "Sanders is putting suppressor cuffs on him. After this stunt, he's in for a rougher time than his buddies, legally speaking. Especially if... you count as sentient, right? Means he technically tried to mind control a sentient being. Bad luck for him." She nods. "And yeah, that's Brock." After giving a last order or two, Brock turns to look down in Weiss' direction. "I stopped in to oversee what was supposed to be a quick bust based on a tip. Perps decided they didn't want anything to do with me. As far as luck goes, 'simple bust turns into a chase halfway across the city ending in a confrontation involving a robotic goddamn unicorn' is just about par for the course for mine..." She stops, holds up a hand to forestall further conversation, and starts speaking into her radio again, having just heard something which apparently concerns her.
Mel Brock	"This is Marshal Mel Brock. Traffic control, confirm, a ship broke away from the outbound lane and has gone radio silent?" Pause. "...Can you confirm that heading?" Mel's eyes have turned towards the heart of Seattle. Numerous air vehicles can be seen in dozens of air lanes, and there's even a regular lane of traffic from the local spaceport, spacefaring vessels taking off and making for orbit. Well, one of them has broken away and is... actually headed in this specific direction. Brock's voice is smooth and steady as she gives orders. "Seattle PD, this is Marshal Brock, I need pursuit craft on a Starshine light freighter that just broke free of the outbound lane, believed to be an escape craft for suspects that have just been apprehended at Gates Conference Hall. I..." Her voice trails off to nothing. The ship is in visual range now, and isn't slowing down. "...Oh, no..." In fact, it's headed right for her, picking up speed, and- oh, look, there's the pilot, jumping out the side and pulling a parachute. "No, no no /no/-" The smallish freighter hurtles right at her current position, nosing downward on autopilot seemingly set specifically to drive it right into the building she's on. CRUNCHSMASH-FWOOM. It stops in mid-air as if hitting a wall. A brief, faint shimmer of purple flickers around Brock, who has both her arms out, hands curled as if catching a large object. The stress of losing all that momentum so suddenly nearly tears it apart, both engines ramming themselves forward into the little craft and sputtering out with a small fireball. Her tone becomes one of rather severe irritation. Her teeth grit. "Oh you have got to be /KIDDING ME/." She swings her hands downward, and the vessel is rather suddenly slammed into the now-empty roadway below, ruining any chance of it ever reaching space again. From across the street and a good twenty feet up on top of a building, Mel Brock shoots a glare towards Misha Sanders that could damn well melt steel beams. Misha, in the middle of walking the technopath to a patrol car, just... does not meet her gaze, at all.
Homura Akemi	"You have laws against that already? Does that mean you have sentient machines-- erm, android, cyborg, robot, whatever is more polite? Or are there ways to control humans, too?" It's a minor detail but when you're going to be reporting on a new world that sort of info never hurt anyone to know in advance. Things have been explained, though, so she has no complaints. Trains of thought are all interrupted by a crashing starship, caught by a single person. So that new recruit isn't just a regular cop after all, huh. Telekinesis? Or just the same power that technopath criminal exhibited, more than likely. Either way, it stopped a ship from-- not crashing, exactly, but from crashing at a very specific, unfortunate location. It's getting mentioned somewhere for sure, because that was something. Homura turns to glance at Amalthea. "Got all of that?"
Amalthea	Oh that guy tried to MIND CONTROL her? The look that crosses the mechanical mythic's features with a soft motor buzz should probably answer Kraus' question well enough, as she fires a hyperborean frigid glare for the technomancer. But then she's somewhat distracted. "I'm sorry, I was busy watching a space ship get stopped dead in the air and asplode." Amalthea replies to Homura.
Zwei	There we go! Not only confirmation of the psychic phenomenon with the purely organic technopath, but a big, flashy and utterly flagrant demonstration of much more powerful ability, straight from the apparently apty named PsiMarshal. That's exactly what Zwei had come to see, and getting a look at those 'suppressor cuffs' can't hurt either. Weiss keeps a metaphorical eye on the perps, using omnidrectional sensors and cameras rather than her actual facing, moving upward to the wreckage of the ship. "Well, I'm impressed. I can see you weren't just bullshitting us about your Elite candidate. I echo the girl's sentiment though. How common is this kind of thing exactly?" She leans over the crunched and potentially smouldering hulk, getting a good, long, penetrating look at it, utterly ignoring the obviously useless monkey, before moving on to check out the gun dropped to the ground. Everything she can learn about this place the better, and a lot of things just showed up in a very short span of time.
Maya	Maya does not mind lending herself to supporting the localk law in bringing these criminals down. She's done as she asked she keeps back now putting her carts away. "Well that was an interesting evening and really? I run into something close to it. Someone who could figure out what was wrong with a machine or how to work it.. "Well that was excited and I suspect how such powers here work will be quite a learning experiance." She just kinda steps back at this point.
Mel Brock	If she does it in a way the police can actually see, Weiss might have difficulty getting past them. This place is starting to transform into a Crime Scene(tm), which means even Elites are going to be asked to take a step back. Small drones or the like can easily get in close, however, and the abandoned firearm turns out to be a fairly standard evolution of the coilgun. Nothing particularly stand-out. The vehicle itself, despite being old-fashioned enough to have wheels, runs on some kind of electrical engine. "Ways to control humans," Kraus replies to Homura, quietly pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one after Brock's display. The sigh she delivers sounds inordinately put-upon. This is probably going to cross her desk later. "That's about as illegal as it gets. AI in general is still a pretty tricky thing for our technology, though with Union tech and people pouring in we're going to have to get used to it. Thankfully, you've all got some pretty solid laws we can adopt on that front. Don't worry, by the way, Brock's been studying up on Union law since word came down we were planning an alliance. She's a little rough around the edges, but she's a good Marshal, and one of the strongest telekinetics you'll ever meet." She takes the cig out of her mouth, taps it out, and blows a smoke ring. "Psychics in general... I think the incidence rate for real potential is somewhere around one in a billion in humans, and not all of those ever get properly awakened." Brock seems to be speaking rather... animatedly into her radio. "You kids have fun with her," Kraus says in a slightly dry tone, before turning to head around the side of the building to have her smoke.