Scene #691: PRT Primer Presentation

Owner	Pose
Defiant	"I hate this," Armsmaster says, quietly and to himself, for the most part, as he stands before a room of Multiversal Elites. "The politics." The room could hold more, certainly - but Armsmaster isn't about to complain about the presentation being smaller than Director Piggot had insisted it would be. It just makes it seem like more of a waste of time than usual. "Sometimes we have to do things that we hate," Dragon says in his ear, "So we can go on for another day." "Yes," Armsmaster replies. He's in his armor, helmet on, arms crossed, although without his Halberd. He still seems like the worst choice to lead a presentation and discussion, particularly when a few of his subordinates are present in seats. "I need to begin, Dragon." "Certainly, Colin," Dragon replies. "And trust me, if there's a crisis, you'll be the first to know." Behind Armsmaster, the screen blinks to life with the golden seal of the Protectorate. "Good afternoon," he says, voice carrying thanks to his clipped tones and the acoustics of the theatre. "Given the recent spate of what we are terming 'Elite incidents' within the city and around the world, it has become necessary to inform you of the state of the world to ensure that no unnecessary harm comes to you or anyone else. The floor is now open to questions. What would you like to know?"
Sagat	It's not like Sagat really needs to raise his hand to get attention; for one thing, he's bigger than most people by a considerable margin, and for another, he's not actually sitting - he's leaning against the back wall with a relatively unobstructed view. But he raises his hand anyway - just to shoulder-height or so. "Last time I crossed paths with the Protectorate, they weren't too happy about an 'outsider' having been mopping up an alley with a gang of superpowered bigots," he says without preamble. "What should I know about 'proper channels' to let you know if I'm in town and might be cleaning up more trash, whether home-grown or visiting?"
Hana	A flower bush that has supplanted one of the (artificial) decorations raises its hand(!?) and wiggles excitedly, its one big eye cracking open and its mouth pulling into a wide and crooked grin. It bounces for attention but doesn't... actually... say anything yet. Is it waiting to get its turn to say something? Hana appears to have somehow gotten into the room. There's little broken bits of radio in the flower pot. Also there seems to be some sort of wristband on it with its name written there in big block letters. Rustle rustle rustle! The longer it goes without attention, the more insistent it gets.
Frederica	FireFox is here, in her costume of course. It's slowly getting more elaborate and functional, rather than just concealing her face and looking cute. Still doesn't have kevlar or armor plating though. The only actual armour she has is the underlayer, a thin vest of armour-quality silkweave she wears under just about anything. She's here to be social, mostly. She doesn't have any burning need to know anything, though she does have a question or two she might raise. Frederica merely sits, legs crossed primly. Yes, of course it's Frederica. Anyone who knows her won't be fooled by the costume no matter how much of her cheekbones are covered. For one thing, the fox ears are fairly distinctive. Even if they're attached to a fuller hood than normal and a mask that hides some of her face, she's not really here to disguise herself. She's here to blend and be fashionable.
Hana	And then Hana blurts out, right as someone looks at it or just before, in this slightly grating and very loud voice, "WHERE ARE THE SNACKS!?" And then it stops to cough up a piece of the plastic house plant that it devoured to establish its dominance as the prettiest decoration in the room.
Jonothon Starsmore	Jono's here too-- just a wrapped-up guy in all black, sitting in a chair at the back of the room. He sits low and leans back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. He doesn't look particularly grouchy, but he does stay quiet. Also winces as he shifts his arms. Still burnt. He doesn't say anything for the time being. Instead he listens, since he doesn't know what to ask right now. If he comes up with a question, he'll ask.
Bitter Medicine	Bitter Medicine darkens the meeting with his presence, pushing through the double doors looking like some kind of Aztec secret police. His badge catches the light from outside as he turns to close the door behind him. The Alchemical Exalted's jackboots thud against the floor, betraying a heavy gait. He pauses as Sagat speaks. Taking out the trash, huh? Sounds like his kind of guy. Bitter Medicine gives the King a grunt in greeting and a nod--his most polite form of introduction. The flower bush, too, catches his attention. Must be some kind of wood elemental. So strange to see embodiments of elements other than the six native to his home. Without further ado, he sits down in one of the chairs present with an -ehh- and reaches into his trench coat for a notepad. His earrings still swaying, he produces a pencil, then raises his hand. "Bitter Medicine, Chosen of Autochthon. We've spoken on the radio. I'd like to review--" He casts a glance at the plant, brow imperiously quirked. "...Your local laws and regulations. Where can I do that?"
Finna	Somewhere along the way, Bitter Medicine gained a tail. Not literally, of course! But a fox sneaks into the meeting, padding quietly. Finna has no idea what exactly Bitter Medicine is doing, but she's decided to find out. And what she has found has confounded her a bit. Bt there are SEVERAL confounding things here. That weird plant. The costumed woman... Finna's ears perk up alertly! But as she's slinking near the back of the room, perhaps only Armsmaster will notice her. Then again, a white-furred fox isn't something you'd normally see in the city.
Defiant	"At this time," Armsmaster says, "The Protectorate has no exact regulations for dealing with Multiversal Elites." He doesn't sound happy about that fact. Of course, he rarely sounds happy in general. "The current 'proper channels' is to notify myself or one of the other members of the Protectorate in order to ensure that there is no case of mistaken ident-" Armsmaster's lips visibly twitch as Hana blurts out her question. "The foyer. Do not eat the house plants, they are Protectorate property." After a moment, he adds: "Please." "As I was saying," Armsmaster continues, "Mistaken identity. Brockton Bay is in the top ten cities for cape population within the United States. Here, as with every other city on the planet, we exist in a state of controlled war with the local villain groups. I have no love for Empire Eighty-Eight or the Azn Bad Boys or any of the other miscreants who would prey on people. However, any violence against those groups risks escalating the conflict to one we cannot control or otherwise contain. With proper notification, you may 'take out the trash', providing we do not feel it risks escalating the current situation into something we cannot handle. It only takes one pyrokinetic to set a street on fire. And we need villains on the street in order to assist with Endbringer attacks."
Hana	Hana lowers its hand for a few moments, satisfied with having received an answer. It waits for a while, mulling over what Armsmaster told it. And then that claw-tipped hand raises again, and it bellows at him, "What's a foyer?" The wristband obviously looks like some sort of identifier for a pet or something.
Jonothon Starsmore	Jono visibly winces at the mention of a pyrokinetic, shifting uncomfortably in his seat and hunkering down a bit as if it was /specifically/ him that was being talked to. However, his attention is grabbed by the white fox slinking around near the back of the room (since Jono's sitting near the back). He he glances at it, glances back up front, and then glances back to the fox, surprised. What the heck? He blinks, and then turns in his chair, extending a hand to the fox, palm open, to show it's empty. Is it someone's pet? That's sort of what he's trying to find out-- if it approaches at the extended hand, it might have been trained. He can't exactly make 'psst psst psst' sounds, though... his telepathy really only notes words.
Frederica	Frederica glowers, taking that 'pyrokinetic' remark personally. "As IF I'd just randomly set a fire I didn't mean to set." she mutters, not entirely under her breath. Firefox then raises her hand, deciding to ignore the remark as beneath her dignity. "Two questions." she says, shifting in her seat. More for the attention than out of discomfort, really. "Who is the pokemon trainer here?" she asks, mistaking Hana for a pokemon. Hey, one of her best friends has a plant pokemon. It's an honest mistake. Jonothon's psychic outpouring... well, that's no one's business really. She notices it, and that's about all she'll say on the matter. She does tighten her shields slightly, letting energies go around her more than bash against her mind, but really telepathy's not her thing. It might mean when he DOES 'speak', she'll have difficulty hearing him at first. "Second," Frederica continues, asking her other question. "When I was at the fundraiser and mentioned the Union, this confused the reporter. How open is this place with regards to the Multiverse and the multiversal conflict? Is this something that shouldn't be mentioned?"
Bitter Medicine	Bitter Medicine hmph. He whistles at Hana as if hailing a cab. "Hey, elemental." He has no idea what a pokemon is. Maybe that's what this thing is, but he'll use parlance he's familiar with. "It's just a few steps down the hall." Funny... he's never seen a hungry elemental. Do they eat? Apparently, they do. Maybe it's just a wood thing, or maybe this thing /isn't/ an elemental. Anyway. "You /need/ villains?" The disdain is evident in his voice. "Not sure I understand." The idea of needing criminals is repulsive to him, to say the least. "They're criminals. Not contributing anything to society. Why don't you draft the ones you can reprogram and send the others to penal colonies?" Soulsteel Caste--the sledgehammers of Autochthon. "Less crime, less time spent pursuing villains, more time to train against the Endbringers." The Alchemical has yet to notice his shadow, or rather, his second shadow. Like Sagat, he casts a rather impressive shadow on his own.
Finna	Who let the crazy plant in? When Hana speaks, Finna tilts her head in a very canine fashion at it. Him? Her? Hard to say! But she bounds across the back of the room at Jonothon's calling, apparently - maybe - domesticated? Are arctic foxes domesticated in this world? Probably not. But the fox does hurry over when beckoned, tail wagging and body held high. The critter's feeling playful! And she play-bites Jonothon's outstretched hand. There's no force involved, thankfully!
Sagat	Mistaken identity? That makes a certain amount of sense. And the part about 'only takes one pyrokinetic' is a logical concern too, although Sagat wasn't specifically thinking about throwing fire around - not that his Tiger Shots are actually fire, they just bear a certain passing resemblance if you don't know any better. The part about 'need villains on the street,' though, prompts a mild scowl to cross the Muay Thai fighter's countenance. "I suppose that prompts the question," he rumbles, "what are the 'Endbringers'? Something that even the crooks and gang-bangers would help you fight against, or ... ?" He may not be outwardly reacting to the others in the room thus far - but he is listening when somebody else speaks up, and weighing the responses to their questions or comments as well.
Defiant	"Miss Militia," Armsmaster says, pointing the way to Hana with a nod of his head. From the side of the theatre, a woman in green military fatigues and an American flag wrapped around the lower half of her face, makes her way over towards Hana. Even in the outfit, she somehow seems friendlier than Armsmaster does. "You would've had to walk through the foyer to get here. Would you like something to eat?" To Frederica, Armsmaster says: "Our Earth is aware of the existance of other Earths and therefore, presumably, other universes, ever since Professor Haywire opened up a link in 1988. However, all we can recieve is transmissions - not people. Until the Protectorate is sure that it will not cause a problem, we are keeping the information suppressed. You may mention it, but I would advise against it. People might panic, particularly if they thought it was bringing more conflict here, and we are unprepared to widen our scope against Multiversal attackers." "Yes," Armsmaster says to Bitter Medicine, matching the disdain in his voice. "But the traumatic nature of trigger events ensures that there are more people becoming villains. We need them. It isn't a matter of training for many, but a matter of power." As if to demonstrate his point, Armsmaster taps a button on the gauntlet of his armor and the picture behind him changes. The seal becomes three colossal figures, each of them monstrous. The first is perhaps forty feet in height, built like a mockery of a body builder with claws and spines that resemble obsidian. One red eye burns in its forehead. The second is shorter, perhaps thirty feet, with a muscular, lanky and top-heavy build. His eyes are mismatched green orbs - three on one side, one on the other. The third is smaller still. Alabaster white, covered in feathers; a woman who is practically angelic in her appearance, surrounded by countless wings. They are labelled Behemoth, Leviathan and the Simurgh. "The Endbringers are why we tolerate villains as we do; parahumans who have become so twisted and powerful that they exist only to destroy. It is why we have the 'three strike' system and why only the worst of the worst are incarcerated. They are why we are needed and why society allows capes to walk its streets. As of yet, we have been unable to stop the Endbringers. In every encounter, even when they have been driven off, it has resulted in grievous casualties. The more capes on the streets, the more chance we have of finding one who has the power to /kill/ one of these villains and accomplish something even Scion has been unable to." At the mention of Scion, the images change again. He's a golden-skinned man with long flowing hair and a melancholic expression on his features, floating above some expanse of ocean water.
Hana	Hana seems to understand what Miss Militia is saying. A lot of it is the intent, the meaning behind it. The monster doesn't entirely understand spoken language yet. But it 'gets it.' "Bring me food!" it shouts at Miss Militia, quite rudely, when she asks, pointing both hands into its own mouth. Sap-like drool drips out of its mouth and over the flowerpot. Hana doesn't want to leave the presentation! It looks Important!
Jonothon Starsmore	Crazy plants! Hana's demand for food has Jono looking up with a blink, an eyebrow raising. When did plants start being openly cannibalistic? Unless that one stepped right out of that movie where the plant eats all the people. Then again... Multiverse. Shouldn't take long before one's sanity decides to take a permanent vacation. Jono's just hasn't quite yet. It's more resilient than most in his world. For Reasons. But in the next moment or two he notes a bite on his hand. Nothing hard enough to hurt. But he looks down and finds the fox playbiting his hand. Jono can figure out the fox isn't trying to hurt him. He has no doubt it'd bite right through his fingers if it really wanted to. His eyes narrow a bit, in a smile, and he turns his hand to scritch. Jono is indeed listening, and when the pictures behind Armsmaster start changing, he looks up. And then he pats the seat next to him, as if inviting the fox up into the chair, so he can listen and still keep the animal company. Or vice-versa-- he doesn't seem to have any company with him.
Frederica	Don't mind FireFox. She looks over at the little white fox and grins, the smile taking years off her age... or at least her dignity. So cute. But she doesn't interrupt playtime, even as she figures it's another pokemon. Maybe the broody one there, the one with all the power, is the pokemon master. It wouldn't be the first psychic she's known who was one. She looks back to the display. The Endbringers sound worrying. Not that she's never fought worse, but that's no excuse. She can kind of understand why one would allow villains to continue existing unless they're so destructive and deadly that they can't be tolerated. She's worked with Feds after all.
Bitter Medicine	Bitter Medicine grumbles. He's like to give this plant food, all right. A knuckle sandwich. But that wouldn't be conducive to learning things about this world. His pencil scribbles hurriedly against his notepad as he writes down bullet points, looking up to the screen to note interesting characteristics about the Endbringers. "Here, elemental." The Alchemical reaches into his pocket and produces a nutriment pill--a tiny tablet of condensed nutrients. He tosses it to Hana without looking at it, hoping the bribe will be enough to keep it quiet for now. Probably, not, though. Thing's got 'troublemaker' written all over it. "Trigger events," he says. "So villains and heroes are made, not born. A mortal meets some criteria or other, and then... boom?" He pantomimes an explosion with his hands. If that's how it happens, it almost sounds like what he knows of Creation's Exalted. "Scion--he's the first guy to undergo the process, I'm guessing, based on the name. Did he say what god hands out these events?" He doubts there's a god involved, if there are even divine beings at work here. Sounds like these events are largely random, but it never hurts to be sure.
Sagat	"Those being the three known Endbringers, I gather," Sagat grunts with a nod at the trio of images. Or at least, at where they were a moment ago, before the presumable image of Scion. "So does this mean you're trying to avoid driving anyone to seek that level of power out of oppression?" If so, it's one of the more comprehensible reasons he can think of for tolerating petty criminals. The idea of criminals existing in 'balance' with a legal society is something of a strange one for him; Shadaloo under M. Bison had little use for such a thing as 'balance' or 'co-existence' with anything outside its control ... but then, Bison was - and still is - a complete megalomaniac who not only desires to rule over all he surveys, but fairly obviously to rule over everything he DOESN'T survey as well. Meanwhile, the plant seems terribly hungry and a little rude. Sagat moves to glance out the door into the foyer; if something plant-edible is fairly evident, then he can pop out to do a small good deed. Bitter Medicine seems to be on that, though - and the Alchemical is starting to accrue some of Sagat's attention generally.
Defiant	Miss Militia is already up and moving as Medicine produces that pill. She returns before too long with a bag of potato chips and a bottle of soft drink. Hana did ask for snacks, after all! From the back of the theatre, Assault remarks: "I like that little plant person-thing." Armsmaster gives Bitter Medicine a slight nod. "Scion is the first who revealed himself to the world. He appears to be a vector for trigger incidents - people within his physical proximity have demonstrated a noticably higher stastical chance of triggering. On the other hand, people who have never seen or heard of Scion trigger as well. Trigger events generally involve a powerful fight-or-flight response and a severe amount of stress, dependent on the individual. While children of parahumans have a higher chance of triggering, that is not guarenteed either." He leaves the image of Scion there, the glowing, golden-skinned man seeming almost beatific on the screen, as he continues. "Those are the three known Endbringers. We are, indeed, attempting to prevent more people from becoming that powerful. We know that Lung, of whom some of you have faced in this very city, is theoretically powerful enough to challenge Leviathan on an even footing. If we keep him contained to his gang, and deal with him when we know we have the resources to do so, we avoid more harm in the long run." Simple number crunching, by the sound of it. Morality through logic. How very appropriate for Armsmaster. "We cannot, after all, rely on Scion."
Finna	The fox is spending an interesting bit of attention at the screen and SOMEHOW managing to do this while still playing with Jonothon! The beast rolls, exposing her belly for the scritching hand... but all at once just freezes, even stopping breathing for a moment. Still as a statue. It stays like this for five seconds, just peering up at Jonothon and... makes a quiet, curious croon? But Finna doesn't stop there. She scampers up behind Frika and-- Well, suddenly, Frika will find herself being playfully hugged from behind! By human arms. ... Naturally, if anyone was LOOKING, they'd have seen the white fox take a second or two to assume human shape. Fur rippling and melting, flesh expanding, clothes appearing... a leathery outfit like those various tribal peoples use. Because that's exactly what it is. However, she seems to have made some modifications to it for warmer climates. There's plenty more skin showing, including midriff - like, for whatever reason, she's decided to literally play to some images after seeing them in action! Tail STILL WAGGING (yes, the woman has a tail, strangely enough, and nobody here will have much trouble seeing it!) and ears still on alert, she singsongs merrily, "Weeeeeeell~, someone has been making good fashion choices!"
Frederica	"Sounds like how it is where I'm from." Frederica claims, frowning slightly. "The power is within the human genome, but in most people it's suppressed." she says. Suppressed for survival, as most who historically manifested power died of burnout. Only a few survived long enough enough to become the basis of legends. "The power triggers, usually from emotion and stress, in those where the suppression isn't total. Parents who are psychic often have children who are, and of course children with psychic parents have a higher chance of surviving since they get trained to control it. And proximity to ... to something special can trigger the power in those who haven't manifested it." she admits. In her case, exposure to an alien something, a virus in the atmosphere... something. Those few who survived the impact on her world gained at least some degree of power. Yes, it does seem like her world and this have a few things in common, and some of that includes powerful supernormal villains. Frederica MIGHT have gone on to explain more, though it's really not the business of anyone here, when she's suddenly glomped from behind. The psychic girl shrieks, a not-quite 'eep' of surprise. Fortunately for Finna, Frederica never actually lashes out with fire when she's suddenly grabbed. That could have been rather unfortunate. Instead she flails helplessly a bit, completely undignified.
Jonothon Starsmore	Jono does scritch the fox's belly when it rolls over. He chuckles when the fox scampers away, to Frederica. And then... he notes the fox /turns into a person/. There's a very distinct 'what in he hell?!' look in his widened eyes. Though he doesn't exactly panic. He blinks. Well, at least that explains what she was doing there! Armsmaster's statement has Jono looking back up to him. And finally, he raises his hand, almost shyly. When he's noticed he'll ask, "Uh... why can't we rely on Scion, if he has the power ter fight these Endbringers?" Any who've put up psionic shields or guarded their minds against intrusion might find it difficult to hear him. Or may not hear him at all.
Hana	Hana is given food not only from Medicine, but from Militia. The pull is stuffed in its gob, though it doesn't seem to satisfy it much, it's probably going to keep the weird creature more than healthy over the next few days. The bag of potato chips and the bottle are received, and are given quizzical looks each. The bag is stuffed whole into the creature's mouth, complete with the tearing noises of shredding plastic and crunching potato chips. The bottle is stuffed in there, too, but it doesn't break as easily. So the creature begins smacking it against a nearby wall as if it's some sort of nut, and periodically chewing on the middle. This results in a loud POP and an explosion of sugary soda everywhere around Hana. The monster bursts into a fit of giggles immediately at the mayhem it caused, even if it's only a little.
Bitter Medicine	A familiar voice. The Alchemical grunts (he does that a lot) and looks over his shoulder. Frederica's explanation is interesting to him, her shriek cause for momentary alarm. "Snowdancer," he says cordially. Cordially for him, anyway. Funny--she doesn't strike him as the crime-fighting type, but if she's here, she must have an interest in helping, or at least exploring Brockton Bay. It doesn't even occur to him that she followed him here. Who would follow /him?/ He's like a funeral and an interrogation rolled into one. He scribbles more things on his notepad, sighing as droplets of soda splash into his field of vision. Yep, trouble. "You're cleaning that up," he says to Hana. He's certainly not going to. Anyway, where was he? Oh, yeah, that's right. "So what you're saying is, there's no one we can bribe or threaten to make more people trigger as heroes." Well, there goes that idea. It does beg the question of how exactly one can simply 'make' an event happen in such a way as to create a hero. Medicine just assumes every place has real, tangible fate like his world and Creation do. The Alchemical turns to face Starsmore, the previous recipient of Finna's attention. His face isn't the most friendly even with the neutral expression, but he's not being hostile, honest. "Bet he wants to stay away from mortals," he says. "That's what I'd do, in his position. This world doesn't have a guarantee people will trigger as heroes, sounds like. So if he's on Armsmaster's side, he probably wants to control when and where people trigger--much as he can, anyway." The Alchemical looks to Armsmaster, giving him a nod. Is he anywhere near the mark with his guess? "Also. Another question. Violence." He holds up Voidbane, his gyroscopic chakram. It's a dark metal thing that looks like a mechanized, throw-able buzzsaw with jagged teeth. "This is your city, so I'll play by your rules. This is Voidbane. It can cut through bone." Oblivious to any palls casted over the room by that statement, he continues. "If I'm helping you out, you want me to pull my punches? Or do you care?"
Sagat	The plant is fed? Good. Sagat returns to where he was standing earlier ... And then he has to relax again, because when did the fox turn into a girl? THAT actually caught him by surprise. This is, apparently, not usually a healthy thing for the one who does the surprising ... but at least Finna wasn't trying to surprise Sagat in particular. The buzzsaw which Bitter holds up to ask about what level of violence is acceptable draws a look which is partly appraising ... might be partly dismissive, if not for Sagat recalling how much those cannon shells hurt.
Defiant	Armsmaster's lips tighten into a thin, thin line. If his helmet wasn't on, one could easily imagine the pulsating veins running along his temple. He focuses on what FireFox is saying, and he nods. "And children tend to inherit similar powers to the ones their parents exhibited. The New Wave is a local cape family and all their powersets revolve around hardlight." Luckily for Hana, the other Hana (Miss Militia) is a decent sort. She sighs behind her American flag, figuring she's dealing with a Case 53. Someone whose trigger event affected them far worse than it did the usual cape. And it's not like child capes aren't heard of. "I'm Hannah," Miss Militia tells Hana, "What's your name?" To Jonothon, Armsmaster remarks: "Because Scion is a golden fool. He has been estimated as the most powerful parahuman alive, and yet he does not respond to many incidents. He has been observed spending an inordinate amount of time saving orphans and extinguishing forest fires - which we believe might be related to his trigger event. He does not communicate or respond to events based on threat, proximity or location. His movements are random. In the event of an Endbringer attack, we fight and hope that he turns up before the battle is over or otherwise lost." Armsmaster taps another button. This looks to be some sort of propaganda poster for the Protectorate and something called 'the Guild'. Armsmaster, with his Halberd resting against his shoulder, standing before a titanic craft that looks like a cross between a mechanical dragon and a fighter jet. He nods to Bitter Medicine as he theorises about Scion and his movements. "Perhaps. Scion is a hero, of that we have no doubt. There is no way to induce trigger events - if the person knows you are trying it, the failure rate is one hundred percent." "As for violence," Armsmaster continues, "Pull your punches. If we kill villains, they will retaliate and have little reason to pull their punches in response. And if we are outnumbered, as we are, more people will suffer. There are some villains, however, with invulnerability or regeneration powers - in that case, do what you have to do."
Sagat	Sagat grunts again, nodding. Don't go beating the bad guys to death; simple enough. Also don't hit harder than necessary - good discipline in any fight, for honor or for life. He's had enough blood on his hands, even if the local scum lowlifes don't seem like they warrant such consideration ... but by the same token, they're pretty much such lowlifes that they're not WORTH killing. Time will tell if he runs into anyone in this city who stands out from the other bad guys.
Jonothon Starsmore	Under the circumstances, Jono can't really be too afraid of a person with a scary face. Because, well... he's /missing/ parts of his face, so he can't say he's not pretty scary himself. Bitter Medicine's words get his attention and he looks to the pale-skinned fellow with a nod. That's entirely possible. Also that buzzsaw blade thing that Bitter Medicine holds up gets a twitch of his eye. Jebus that looks dangerous, even for the person carrying it. Jono blinks at Armsmaster's explanation of Scion. He'd probably rescue orphans and try to put out forest fires if he could, but it's a little strange to /only/ do that. He's not even going to suggest getting out and trying to appeal to Scion, if Scion's convinced he's the most powerful one alive, nothing anyone's got to say will reach him. The mention of the 'trigger events' gets a frown. He has a horror story about 'trigger events', yeah. He raises his hand again. Once acknowledged, "If there's a 'trigger event', does that mean whatever pops up in the person was already there an' jus' waitin' for a need ter manifest? Somethin' like that 'appens in my world." Which means he might have a few more things to add, but this isn't really the time.
Hana	Hana flashes a huge grin at Hannah, pleased to have made a new friend! It wiggles its short little arms and says up to the cape, "I'm Hana!" Then it bounces over and tries to hug Miss Militia's leg. While covered in sticky soda. It does not seem to understand what might be wrong with this action.
Finna	"Hel-lo!" Finna winks Bitter Medicine's way over Frika's shoulders, leaning into the girl a little and ruffling her costume's head before backflipping spectacularly somehow without even brushing Frederica. The only part of the display that isn't artistry in motion is a few drops of soda splashing on her clothes and an ear, making it twitch and getting her to rub at it. Ewgh. "The little plant-thing is just gonna make a bigger mess, you know, if it's left like that..." Mutter, mutter. "So there's trouble in this world too, hm? Seems that way no matter where I go. And it's always big cities of steel and glass... covered over ten worlds today, and there's not a longhouse to be seen." The cutesy tone she's chosen for today droops disappointedly, but she doesn't lose her tempo. In fact, she bounds up towards the front of the presentation and waggles a finger at Armsmaster! "saay, you. I was listening. And it sounds to me like what you REALLY need is a way to kill the Endbringers. If they were gone, the villain situation would get easier, right?"
Frederica	Panic abated at least slightly when she realizes she's not under attack, or at least not THAT kind of attack, and by a girl at that, Frederica gets herself under control. She attempts to regain dignity despite being headruffled, straightening her clothes and looking affronted. It doesn't do a whole lot of good, but it's something at least. She frowns when Jono 'speaks'. The sensation's uncomfortable, particularly with her tight shielding in place. Something about the power being there already, in his own world. She shrugs. It's probably the case, though it's not her place to answer. Still, the nature of a person's power is different for every person, and based in large part on their nature and upbringing. It can, however, be trained. She watches Finna go up to the podium, still frowning a little. "Crazy fox girl's got a point." she mutters. "But I don't think it's that easy." she claims.
Bitter Medicine	Bitter Medicine says, "I like your thinking, Snowdancer." Nods backwards at the Lunar. "But I agree with her." A point at Frederica. No one told him it's rude to do that! They sound like budget Primordials, and if that's an accurate descriptor, then they'd probably need an army. Very possibly an army /of/ Exalted. Little does he know, it's not the first time that idea's been suggested. "Might be tough, even for Exalted." Bitter Medicine is a bit... surprised by Jonothon's appearance. There are people less friendly-looking than him, but not many. He should keep this guy around. It'd be nice to have someone to stand next to and look comparatively better. "You look like hell," he politely opines. Not that he has much room to talk, but /damn./ The Alchemical turns around after that. "Pull my punches. Can do. So. Got any pictures that show what these Endbringers are capable of?""
Defiant	Armsmaster nods to Jonothon. "Yes. Doctor William Manton theorised that for every person with powers there is between one to five people with the potential for powers who haven't met the required conditions for a trigger event. Trigger events tend to transpire during adolescence." He turns his visor in Finna's direction as she bounds up towards the front of the stage. "Armsmaster," he says, reminding her of his name. "That is what we need - a real victory. As FireFox says, it is easier said than done. Not even Scion has been able to kill one, despite his abilities. Dragon and I are working on a possible weapon which, theoretically, should be enough to destroy an Endbringer although it is yet to enter the prototype stage." That must explain the image. Faced with an unstoppable enemy, Armsmaster evidently thinks that he is smart enough to kill it. Time will tell, of course. "Yes," Armsmaster tells Bitter Medicine, "We do." Another touch of his gauntlet and the image changes. It's satelite imagery of a location near Canada - the island of Newfoundland, dated May 9 2005. Another image is presented, side by side, only a few hours later. The island is simply /gone/. "Five hundred thousand dead," Armsmaster says, voice tight. "Island utterly annihilated. Leviathan is a hydrokinetic on the macro scale, able to induce such pressures that the shelf beneath it was destroyed." He lets that image stand. He brings up a third image, a satelite image of Japan. "In November, 1999, Leviathan killed over nine million people and did such damage to Japan that he single-handedly rendered it to a third-world state in one night." He gives them time to absord the images, to understand the stakes. "One final thing," Armsmaster states. "You should be acquainted with the Protectorate parahuman classification system. I want each of you to list your powers; you will each serve as examples to each other." He points to FireFox. "Begin."
Defiant	Meanwhile, Miss Militia smiles down at Hana - her lips might be invisible, but one can see it in her eyes. She seems to be fine with Hana's sticky hug, getting soda all over the camoflauge fatigues she's wearing. "Do you think you can help us clean up some of the mess?" she says, like she's talking to a child. She's certainly more pleasant that her commanding officer.
Frederica	Frederica is staring at the slides in horror. Sure, her own world suffered worse than the annihilation of a few island-nations. That was different though. She was unable to see the outcome, being more or less sealed away from the outside world at the time. She'd only seen the result; a world changed and depopulated. This is no more horrifying really, as she's only seeing the results... but this is one PERSON doing this, not an alien meteor. She's caught off-guard when Armsmaster points to her, but Frederica's a professional. "F-Firefox." she introduces herself, stammering slightly. "Fire production, dynamic control of flame. And... er, what was it that person said..." she says, trying to remember. Motion-something. Oh well, that was for the press. This is for the Union, or something similar. She shrugs. "Enhanced perceptions." she adds. "And healing. Currently... not entirely reliable healing." she says, a bit sheepishly.
Hana	Hana doesn't immediately respond to Miss Militia. Instead, her eye is focused on the presentation that Armsmaster is doing. The sight of everything as it's explained makes her unable to look away, and there's this... strange sensation of empathy and despair from the creature, especially from that frown, when it's told people had died, lots of people. It shivers once, and then blinks a couple times, looking up at Miss Militia. "Messsss?" it hisses, uncertain what she means-- until it looks at the soda all over itself and her. "Oh! Yes. I'll help!" It starts by licking things. Particularly the floor. If not stopped, the soda will be replaced by gross-looking orange sap that is actually worse.
Jonothon Starsmore	Jono's reaction to Bitter Medicine's observation of him is a simple, rather wry, "Yer 'ave no idea." He'd smirk, but... yeah. Still, one gets the feeling from what's visible of his face that he's amused, even if it's grimly so, by his tone. Armsmaster's statement about the trigger events in this world get a nod, and Jono taps his temple in thought. Maybe Protectorate could do with some of Dr. McCoy's information about the 'X-gene'? The image of the island that's just /gone/ in the next picture, and the report of Japan's near-desctruction just gets a shocked widening of his eyes. Definitely Omega-level mutants there. Yup. The Professor's going to need to talk to these people. Then suddenly 'think fast, and name your abilities'? Jono blinks. But since most of the people he's in the room with aren't exactly 'normal', and probably wouldn't be at all freaked out, he isn't quite so reluctant. "...Jonothon Starsmore. I got one 'o those fancy codenames too-- Chamber." He very lightly past his chest and explains, "Right here's a chamber of somethin' that looks like fire but ain't." He puts a finger into the top of the bandages on his face and pulls very lightly. A small, red-orange, staticky-looking flame emits.
Finna	"Hmmmgh?!" List everything you can do? Finna stares at Armsmaster. "... A tall order from someone who's only given his name. Hrm, I guess that request would be fairer-sounding if you were INTENDING to come here..." Finna scratches a cheek. "... Five hundred thousand..." In the face of such devastation, she can only cringe and look away from the shown slides. After making something of a difficult face, ears flattening... she announces.. "Shapeshifting, illusions, and beastly physical abilities. There's more, but you'll have to figure those out as you go. My specialties are reconaiisance and infiltration. If I want to be somewhere, I'd /love/ to see something able to stop me. But you can package all of that under the name Finna. I don't do this codename thing if I can help it!"
Sagat	The towering martial artist shrugs slightly; it seems like a reasonable request - if only for examples of how parahumans are categorized. Not that Sagat is a 'parahuman'; he's HUMAN from scalp to soles. Still, he might as well answer Armsmaster without making an issue of that. "My name is Sagat. I'm a Muay Thai fighter. To boil that down ... close-quarters combat skills, and some life-energy focusing ability as a result of my training." Human. Not parahuman. He may be prepared to take offense if anyone is stubborn about miscategorizing him.
Bitter Medicine	Bitter Medicine 's eyes widen... and then narrow. Five hundred thousand mortals, dead in so little time. Could the Palladium Wyrm manage such a feat? Could Oberashti? Even the Shogun of Genocide leaves behind /something/ in his wake--barren structures, mostly, but something remains after his murderous escapades. Nine million dead in one night. "It's settled then," he says coldly. They may not be the mortals he was built to protect, but they're still mortals. "The Endbringers will die." The Great Maker only knows what will happen if they get /loose/ in the Multiverse. If sharing his abilities helps Armsmaster, then, it helps the Union. If it helps the Union, it helps Autochthonia. He stands up. "Easier to show than to tell," he says. He stands and unbuttons his trench coat, sliding it off. He then unzips the grey, Orwell-esque jumpsuit beneath and rolls it down to his midsection, revealing his chest and a /whole slew/ of mechanical augmentations. "Bitter Medicine, Chosen of the Machine God--but I'll drop that part when I'm in Brockton." His arms bulge with obvious synthetic musculature, sporting much of the same metal as his weapon. "Two sets of interchangeable abilities," he says, once everyone has gotten a good look. His chest, throat and palms sport what look to be exhaust ports. He points to them. "Chemical fog generator, with tear gas submodule. Flight," he says, pointing a finger straight down at his boots. Then, he points to the lower half of his jumpsuit, which seems even more packed with implants. "Gravity manipulation, increased acrobatic potential." He then zips the jumpsuit back up, and puts the trench coat on again. "Other set of charms focuses on investigation, but I'm sure you get the iea by now." As his fingers work the last button on his coat, he adds an afterthought. "Also a master of Thousand Wounds Gear style, a martial art based on the gyroscopic chakram." He pats Voidbane, then sits down.
Defiant	"Blaster, Thinker," Armsmaster says to Frederica. "Healing, although exact mechanism is unknown. If it is through physical touch, then you are a Striker in addition." He moves right along to Finna. "Changer, Brute, Master." Jonothon gets a simple: "Blaster. Possible Breaker." Despite Sagat's insistence, Armsmaster hits him with: "Brute. Possible Striker." He did see him fight against the Abyssal Fleet, after all! Finally, Armsmaster turns his visor in Bitter Medicine's direction. "And a Tinker, like myself." "This system exists to classify parahumans and Elites in order to allow responders to understand what they may be dealing with. Mover, someone who can travel great distances quickly. Shaker, someone who can manipulate their surroundings. Breaker, the ability to break natural physical laws. Brute, unnatural toughness and strength. Master, the ability to create minions or control others. Tinker, super science. Blaster, ranged attack capabilities. Thinker, mental powers. Striker, apply their power through touch. Trump, the ability to change their powers to fit certain circumstances or otherwise act directly on other abilities. Stranger, powers to evade detection. All of these are rated on a scale of one to ten. If you respond to a Protectorate call, that is our language." Armsmaster crosses his arms once more. "Now," he says, "If there are no other questions, I think that we can conclude this discussion." Meanwhile, Miss Militia shakes her head. "Actually, it's okay. We'll find someone else to do it." She tries to pull Hana up and away from the floor - gently, of course.
Sagat	The one thing that really saves Armsmaster from having trampled on Sagat's self-classification as 'human' is that he includes Elites in the purpose of the Protectorate's categorization system. Although being classified as a 'Brute' prompts a very dark glower from the Muay Thai fighter. Never mind that it's being applied as a technical term - it's still a rather ugly and inelegant word for somebody who has put a LOT of time and training in to hone his skills to their current level. Still, it's not worth taking open exception to. Sagat merely glares - doesn't speak, doesn't move towards Armsmaster in any manner. Or towards any of the other Protectorate personnel around the room, for that matter.
Finna	"I'd prefer something less crude than Brute, but aha!" Finna exclaims, though she too aims a somewhat inquisitive stare at Armsmaster. "'Maaaaaaster,' hmmmm? And what gives you THAT impression?"
Frederica	Frederica nods. It makes sense, and she realizes what the reporter got wrong, assuming she was a Blaster/Mover. Also, she can see how that mistake was made. "Blaster, yes. Strongly so." she claims, entirely without ego. Or at least without modesty getting in the way. "Thinker and striker would be weak talents for me." she adds. Woe be to anyone who calls her a weak thinker! "Healing might be a Trump power I suppose, as technically I give a Brute power to someone else. When it works." she adds. She may not be a great healer, but she has a lot of theoretical knowledge of the art and how it relates to other psychic powers. She had to puzzle through it for over half a year after all. "If I were being classified on your threat scale, I doubt anyone would mention anything other than Blaster, really."
Jonothon Starsmore	Seems there are quite a few people here who are willing to detail at least some of their abilities. Jono looks between the others as they offer the information, mentally keeping track of it all. Though he raises an eyebrow when Bitter Medicine starts to apparently undress. "Wouldn't yer know 'show me yer powers' would end in somebody takin' 'is clothes off?" He's kidding. But he's also listening! Then Armsmaster starts rattling off a list of... category types? Jono bristles a little, there's a part of him that doesn't like being labeled. Hell, /none/ of him likes being labeled! But he can see what it is. And Armsmaster's further explanation of it does decrease the bristling somewhat. He's not pointing at Jono and yelling 'Mutie scum', so at least that is a comfort. The mention of 'mental powers' prompts him to raise his hand and hit himself gently in the forehead in a clear 'oh crap, I forgot' gesture. He raises his hand to indicate he has something else to say. "'Thinker' might apply ter me too. I'm not sure what degree yer apply the labels, so I'm only mentionin' this for completeness's sake, an so's somebody doesn't ask why I didn't mention it sooner. I can't actually talk. What you're 'earin' now's telepathic. But I can't do much more than talkin' with it."
Frederica	"We had only three categories." says Frederica. "Burst, Rise, Trance." she explains. Then shrugs. "Not really important, I suppose, but simpler?" she grins. Then she shakes her head. "You don't say." she replies to Jono dryly, rubbing at one masked temple in irritation.
Bitter Medicine	Bitter Medicine says, "Exalted martial arts are... blatantly supernatural. So I /might/ be a Striker. But that's really up to you." That said, the Alchemical begins scribbling down information about this classification system. Even relatively human Alchemicals like him enjoy efficient systems! He's sure to include the bit about the numbers, too. Of course, Jono's remark doesn't go answered. "Just my shirt," he reminds the mutant. "You want more, buy me dinner." Apparently, Armsmaster is thinking of concluding the discussion. It's probably for the best, as inappropriate jokes are already being thrown around and part of the floor is covered in sap and soda. "Thanks for having us, Armsmaster.""
Hana	Hana accepts being picked up, and decides to blow sap bubbles at Miss Militia. It seems the creature is pretty docile toward humans and accepts the rather parental/teacher-like attitude that is directed toward it without fuss. "I'm strong," it tells Miss Militia. And then it flexes at her. It is probably adorable, and not that intimidating. "Grrrr~" Yeah you would not describe that as ferocious.
Defiant	Did Armsmaster know his words would have such an effect on Sagat? It's likely, or maybe he just doesn't share Sagat's concerns. In either case, the Protectorate commander doesn't seem to care. He talk to Finna, "Because you create illusions, or that is the indication you provided." To Frederica he says, "They would still mention it, even if it is a minor ability. It might be relevant." He nods to Jonothon, too, who seems to have found the right classification for himself. To Bitter Medicine, he just says: "I trust it was informative. The staff outside can assist you with further information, finding handbooks." There's also a gift shop, too, but Armsmaster doesn't mention it. Miss Militia nods at Hana. "I'm sure you are," she says, quite sincere. And then asks: "Does someone know Hana here?"
Finna	"Hmh." Finna's shoulders sag a little, but then she snickers, grinning cheerily. "So thats it... well, if you say so." Controlling others and creating minions... well, she could. it's one of the things left unstated. Kinda! "This kind of labeling is loathsome and rankling, but if my help can prevent another catastrophe that ends hundreds of thousands of lives, call on me. I just came here following tall, dark, and clanky here--" She zips over to Bitter Medicine and claps him playfully on the shoulder, "Sooooooo...." Unstated, she has no idea what's going on here, or any real obligation, but is offering some help anyways? "If I didn't help when things are that bad, I'd be a terrible Lunar."
Jonothon Starsmore	Jono gets a surprised look at Bitter Medicine's remark. One gets the feeling he'd have sputtered if he'd been capable of it. He does recover, though, and notes, "No thanks." Nope! Totally not going there. Good, it looks like the telepathy thing /was/ relevant. He also notes, "I know some people who might be able ter help. Since we 'ave a similar 'people just develop powers' in my world, there's been a great deal 'o time an' effort gone inter tryin' ter find out why. An' we 'ave. Sorta. Yer want me ter put yer in contact with 'em?" he offers.