A life of Crime [M&M 2nd ed]

[Blackbird]

It's a fairly ordinary afternoon at the central branch of the Eastern Seaboard Bank in downtown Fort Garth. Many people have stopped by to handle some routing banking, unaware that today will be anything but routine. Three security guards are working with the two bank guards to move a shipment of money the from bank's vault to the armored car waiting outside, while the fourth security guard is waiting by the armored car. No-one in the bank so much as suspects that they are about to witness multiple cases of bank robbery.

((Link to the recruitment-thread.
A layout for the bank.
Link to the OOC-thread.))

[Green Bean]

It's a quiet day at Eastern Seaboard Bank, but Doubletalk certainly has plans to make that change. He turns to his companions. Or, rather, companion.

"Are we ready to begin, my identical friends?" he said, glancing at them once again, making sure they were adequately disguised.

The last thing I need is to be traced back to this lowlife. I just hope they don't screw it up.

If he was unsure about his companions' disguise, he certainly had no reason to be unsure of his own. He had stayed up late the previous evening, making sure that the villain about to crash the bank looked nothing like Lionel Jefferson. He was clad in a long labcoat and black pants, and they looked as though they had not been washed in weeks. His face was covered with wrinkles, and sparse unwashed grey hairs seemed to stick out from his head as if they wanted to be as far away from his brain as they could. In his right hand, he carried a silvery device (A spraypainted calculator from Staples).

Doubletalk looked around one last time, and began marching towards the door.

((Doubletalk will wait for Cubit to give his readiness, then begin to head inside))

[PsyBlade]

The Cubit clones were wearing 'standard' thug outfits. Specifically the kind that you'd expect thugs who want to keep their identity a secret. There are two of them. The real one has just made a withdrawal from the bank.

Ready when you are boss. Said 'thug' #1 through a voice changer. Not a perfect solution, but cheap considering the real Cubit removed it from a child's toy. It should be noted that no Cubit has a weapon on them.

[Green Bean]

Doubletalk nods.

"Very well."

Doubletalk opens the door with more force then necessary, causing it to bang into the wall, hopefully drawing the customers' attention. A subtle plan this was not. Doubletalk pitches his voice in his best 'mad scientist' impression.

"Conformist peons! You have grown soft, and complacent! You cower beneath the shelter of your so-called 'rules' and 'laws', taking comfort in the mundane, unable to experiment! Well, I'll show you! I'll show you exactly what an 'unstable' man can do! Fear the wrath of Doctor Bedlam!!!" he shouts out to the general public, before pushing a random button on his 'device'. While doing so, his second vocal chords sing out a specially attuned note, capable of scambling a person's faculties, driving them to temporary insanity. However, he was careful to 'de-attune' his voice to the mind frequencies of his companion, both the ones with him, and the one already in the bank, as well as the most vulnerable looking bank teller. He turns to Cubit.

"Deal with the survivors, but no killing."

((Psyblade, your character is really giving the English language a workout .))

[ravenkith]

Character:

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Name: Miles Franklin Cavendish, AKA: 'Toxin'
Age: 21, Sex: Male, Height: 5'9, Weight: 140lbs
Ethnicity: Caucasian, Build: Toned

Details:

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Crunch:

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TOTAL POINTS AVAILABLE: 150+2
POINTS SPENT: 148
POINTS REMAINING: 2+2

ATTRIBUTES:[66]

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STR: 10 (+0)
DEX: 16 (+3)
CON: 10 (+0)
INT: 10 (+0)
WIS: 16 (+3)
CHA: 16 (+3)

ATT: +5 [10]
DEF: +10 ([8]+6)

TOUGH: +10 (10 + 0)
FORT: +12 ([12] + 0)
REF: +12 ([9] + 3)
WILL: +12 ([9] + 3)

FEATS: [7]

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Connected (Diplomacy)
Contacts (Gather Information)
Distract (Bluff)
Eidetic Memory
Jack Of All Trades
Well-Informed
Uncanny Dodge

SKILLS: [18]

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10 (7 + 3) = Bluff [7]
10 (10 + 0) = Concentration [10]
10 (7 + 3) = Diplomacy [7]
10 (7 + 3) = Gather Information [7]
12 (10 + 3) = Notice [9]
10 (7 + 3) = Perform (Actor) [7]
5 (5 + 0) = Search [5]
8 (5 + 3) = Sense Motive [5]
18 (15 + 3) = Stealth [15]

POWERS: [61]

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Power Array: Pheromones [25]

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*Primary Power (Pheromones): Nullify: 10 Ranks
Original Statistics:

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Cost:3/r
Effect: Trait
Range: Ranged (10ft/r)
Action: Standard
Duration: Instant
Saving Throw: Will

Modifications:

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Feats (5): Subtle (1), Alternate Powers (4)
Extras (3): Area (Explosion) (1), Duration (Sustained) (2)
Flaws (4): Range (Touch) (1), Action (Full) (1), Sense Dependent: Smell (1) Limited: Machines Immune (1) Alternate Save: Fort

Modified Statistics:
Pheromones (Nullify): 10r
Cost: 2/r + 5 (25)
Effect: Trait
Range: Touch/Explosion (10ft/R)
Action: Standard
Duration: Sustained
Saving Throw: Fort

*Alternate Power (Pheromones): Corrode: 10r
Original Statistics:

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Cost: 2/r
Effect: Attack
Range: Touch
Action: Standard
Duration: Instant
Saving Throw: Fort/Tough

Modifications:

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Feats (1): Subtle
Extras (2): Area (Explosion) (1), Duration (Concentration) (1),
Flaws (2): Action (Full) (1), Tiring (1)

Modified Statistics:
Pheromones (Corrosive): 10r
Cost: 2/r + 1 = 21
Effect: Attack
Range: Touch/Explosion (10ft/r)
Action: Full
Duration: Concentration
Saving Throw: Fort/Tough

*Alternate Power (Pheromones): Emotion Control: 10r
Original Statistics:

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Cost: 2/r
Effect: Mental
Range: Ranged
Action: Standard
Duration: Sustained (Lasting)
Save: Will

Modifications:

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Feats (1): Subtle
Extras (2): Area (Explosion) (1), Selective Attack (1)
Flaws (4): Range (Touch) (1), Action (Full) (1), Sense Dependent: Smell (1) Limited: Machines Immune (1)

Modified Statistics:
Pheromones (Emotion): 10r
Cost: 1/2 + 3 = 8
Effect: Mental
Range: Touch/Explosion (10ft/r)
Action: Full
Duration: Sustained (Lasting)
Save: Will

*Alternate Power (Pheromones): Fatigue: 10r
Original Statistics:

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Cost: 2/r
Effect: Attack
Range: Touch
Action: Standard
Duration: Instant
Saving Throw: Fort

Modifications:

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Feats (1): Subtle
Extras (3): Area (Explosion) (1), Duration (Sustained) (2),
Flaws (3): Action (Full) (1), Sense Dependent: Smell (1) Limited: Machines Immune (1)

Modified Statistics:
Pheromones (Fatigue): 10r
Cost: 2/r + 1 = 21
Effect: Attack
Range: Touch/Explosion (10ft/r)
Action: Full
Duration: Sustained
Saving Throw: Fort


*Alternate Power (Pheromones): Nauseate: 10r
Original Statistics:

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Cost: 2/r
Effect: Attack
Range: Touch
Action: Standard
Duration: Instant (Lasting)
Saving Throw: Fort

Modifications:

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Feats (1): Subtle
Extras (3): Area (Explosion) (1), Duration (Sustained) (2)
Flaws (3): Action (Full) (1), Sense Dependent: Smell (1) Limited: Machines Immune (1)

Modified Statistics:
Pheromones (Nauseating): 10r
Cost: 2/r+1 = 21
Effect: Attack
Range: Touch/Explosion (10ft/r)
Duration: Sustained (Lasting)
Saving Throw: Fort

Device: Belt: Energy Sheath: 9r [36]

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Original Statistics:

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Cost: 4/r
Effect: General
Range: Personal
Action: Reaction
Duration: Permanent (Innate)

Modifications:

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Feats:
Extras:
Flaws :

Modified Statistics:



Onboard Power Array: [14]

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*Primary (Dynamic) Power: Flight: 10r [12]

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Original Statistics:

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Cost: 2/r
Effect: Movement
Range: Personal
Action: Move
Duration: Sustained

Modifications:

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Feats:
Extras: Alternate (Dynamic) Power (2)
Flaws (1): Limited: Not useable underwater (1)

Modified Statistics:

Cost: 1/r+2 =12
Effect: Movement
Range: Personal
Action: Move
Duration: Sustained

*Alternate (Dynamic) Power: Blast: 10r [2]

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Original Statistics:

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Cost: 2/r
Effect: Attack
Range: Ranged
Action: Standard
Duration: Instant
Saving Throw: Tough

Modifications:

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Feats (2): Alternate Power (1), Dynamic Power (1)
Extras:
Flaws (1): Limited: Not useable underwater (1)

Modified Statistics:
Cost: 1/r = 10
Effect: Attack
Range: Ranged
Action: Standard
Duration: Instant
Saving Throw: Tough

Forcefield : 10r [12]

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Original Statistics:

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Cost: 2/r
Effect: Defense
Range: Personal
Action: Free
Duration: Sustained

Modifications:

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Feats (2): Selective (1), Subtle (1)
Extras (1): Impervious (1), Duration (Continuous) (1)
Flaws (3): Action (Full) (3)

Modified Statistics:
Cost: 1r + 2 = 12
Effect: Defense (Impervious)
Range: Personal
Action: Full
Duration: Continuous

Total Concealment: All Senses Except Touch: 10R: [6]

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Original Statistics:

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Cost: 2/r (All senses)
Effect: Sensory
Range: Personal
Action: Free
Duration: Sustained

Modifications:

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Feats(1): Close Range (1)
Extras (1): Duration (Continuous) (1)
Flaws (3): Action (Full) (3)

Modified Statistics:

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Cost: 1/2r + 1
Effect: Sensory
Range: Personal
Action: Full
Duration: Continuous

Immunity: 10R: [10]

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Original Statistics:

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Cost: 1/r
Effect: Defense
Range: Personal
Action: Reaction
Duration: Permanent

Modifications:

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Feats (0):
Extras (0):
Flaws (0):

Modified Statistics:

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Cost: 1r =10
Effect: Defense
Range: Personal
Action: Reaction
Duration: Permanent
Life Support (9), Own Powers (1)

Shield: 6R: [3]

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Original Statistics:

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Cost: 1/r
Effect: Defense
Range: Personal
Action: Free
Duration: Sustained

Modifications:

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Feats (0):
Extras (1): Duration (Continuous) (1)
Flaws (1): Action (Standard) (2)

Modified Statistics:

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Cost: 1/2r = 3
Effect: Defense
Range: Personal
Action: Move
Duration: Continuous

Fluff (WARNING: DARK):

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Miles Franklin Cavendish III was born the only child in his upper-middle-class family. Shortly after his birth, his mother experienced severe problems with
her uterus, and as a result, was forced to have a hysterectomy.

There would be no more blood-children for Miles Jr. and his bride, Melissa. The two new parents lavished their attention on their son, giving him everything he could ever want or need. They made excuses for his bad behavior as he grew older, refusing to acknowledge his spoiled nature, and that their child was growing up with no knowledge of compromise or sacrifice.

Miles III was not an unhappy child, but always restless. With no boundaries in place, he was constantly in search of something, but not knowing what. He tested and pushed at what was allowed, and found no limits. From a young age, he learned that he could get away with anything, and aside from a passing interest in sports, everything else suffered.

Academically, Miles never did more than scrape by, doing just enough to continue on, but never enough to stand out, despite all the advantages he’d been given, chiefly, attending the best private schools from day one.

Socially, Miles III never really had any friends, and was more of a loner. An outsider looking in, he didn’t bother to learn much about others except how to manipulate them. Denied the physical size and strength to become a bully, he became proficient at lying and telling others what they wanted to hear.

By the age of thirteen, he was already a criminal case looking for a court to happen in. What happened next just amplified his anti-social outlook.

Miles Franklin Cavendish III, thirteen, was coming home after a hard day at school. He’d been trying to make the soccer team lately, just to see if he could. His natural reflexes and stamina should have made him a good player, and with his ability to turn on the charm, and the way the school treated jocks, he could have it made. He’d already been caching the eye of certain girls in his class, and a place as captain of the soccer team could have made him a god.

Dirty, tired, and disgruntled at a poor performance, compared to some of the other boys, Frankie, as he’d taken to calling himself, was lost in thought about exactly what he’d like to do to some of the cheerleaders that had been practicing on the next field over. He never saw it coming. His father, frothing at the mouth, had come in from the next room and tackled the boy to the ground, and was ripping the boy’s clothes off. Frankie fought back, screaming for help.

Melissa came in, and Frankie thought he’d been saved, but his mother just joined his father in stripping him. The two of them proceeded to do things that no parent should ever do to their child. Exhausted now, naked and bruised and bleeding from scratches and grabs, the sobbing boy was filled with a sense of rage and anger, at his parents, at himself. Confused, the bedrock of his world eroding from under him, all of a sudden, in the middle of what had been turning into a proper little orgy, his parents started ripping each other apart.

Frankie took advantage of the situation to crawl away. He made his way to the bathroom, and locked himself in, then turned on the shower, cowering in the corner, terrified. A few minutes later, the house went perfectly quiet.

When Frankie, much later, came out of the bathroom, all shriveled like a prune, and scraped raw from the repeated cleansing of his body, he came across a terrible scene. His mother lay dead, and his father was sitting in a corner, rocking back and forth in abject horror. The man had cracked utterly.

Frankie called his grandfather. After telling him, through tears, what had happened, Frankie was forced to listen to his only living relative, other than his father, die of a heart attack over the phone.

Frankie called the police.

The men in blue came, examined the scene, and asked Frankie if he had any relatives they could call to come for him. Frankie shook his head no.
“I called my grandfather and told him what happened. I think he’s dead,” was all he could get out.

The police called CPS, and Frankie went into a foster home. For the next five years, filled with a self-loathing that was echoed in the world around him, he shuffled from foster family to foster family, never getting along, always a source of friction, no matter where he went.

It was in this time that Frankie became an actor. When he was pretending to be someone else, he could start to believe he was, and get past his self-loathing…acting let him be happy again, for a time, and the audience always reveled in it, or so it seemed. The moment he stepped off the stage, and went back to being Frankie, the love always turned to hate.

It was while in the foster system that he learned the value of finding out other people’s secrets, and how to leverage those secrets to get what he wanted. The seventh family he lived with, he managed to get some dirt on the old man, who was shtupping one of the girls in his care. Frankie used it to stay in one place for a while. He worked hard, and graduated high school with a high enough GPA that he had a shot at going to college.

Frankie, a ward of the state, had little trouble getting funding from the government, and less getting accepted to a college out of state. Not even thinking twice, he took the money and got the hell out of there. From day one, he pretended he was someone else. He played a part, and made up a different past, and after a while, he even believed his own lies.

Whatever it was, the world loved him once again, and he came to accept that he had started over. He found a girl who liked the kind of rough sex that was the only way he could get it up. He stayed in the college dorms, and was a popular guy. He made a lot of friends, and got involved with a lot of campus groups, including a fraternity. He was invited to join the Freemasons, and accepted. He went out for sports, and got put on the college baseball side as a backup, first time out. Everybody wanted to be his friend.

Everything was going fine.

Right up until the bank robbery.

That day, Frankie went to deposit his government check, and go in line like anybody else. He was happy, and he was content. Everyone seemed like it was a sunshiney day for them, too.

Until the men in masks came. With guns. Big black guns, shotguns and pistols. One of them clubbed Frankie in the face. The boy went down, hard, fear overcoming him completely. One at a time, in a circle spreading out from him, everybody in the bank lost control of their bowels. Including the robbers.

Frankie saw it. He thought back, over the years, with his nigh perfect recall, to the very first day, he remembered weird stuff like that happening. In that instant, he figured out that everybody around him had been feeling what he was feeling.

It was a little exciting to know that the fear you felt, that you could barely handle, inspired pants-****ting terror in others. The novelty wore off as the smell hit him, even as everybody else in the bank cowered in fear. Frankie got up, and took the guns off the bank robbers, who didn’t even resist.

He was hailed as a hero. There was no reward, just his name in the paper.

Frankie decided he liked reading about himself, and knowing that other people were reading it, too.

Powered individuals had been springing up left and right. It wasn’t really new. At 19 years of age, Frankie began experimenting with what, he was sure, were his long-possessed, but newly-recognized, powers. He learned very quickly that he himself was not immune to the effects of his own powers, and figured out that his five-year journey of hatred, anger, and self-loathing had been primarily self-inflicted.

After using his powers to stop a couple of minor crimes, and scanning the papers for his name proved fruitless, Frankie came across an article in the paper about a new experimental belt being developed by a researcher at the university. Supposedly, this belt could theoretically revolutionize all sorts of industries, from police work to space exploration. Most interestingly, it provided a great deal of protection from harmful chemicals.

By this point, Frankie had figured out that his powers had something to do with the chemicals he was excreting from his skin; chemicals other people had, but not to as great a degree, or with as much control (now that he’d figured out there was something to control at all). From his point of view, having spent nearly a quarter of his life dealing with the fallout of not being immune to his own powers, these chemicals qualified as pretty harmful!

So he went to see the dean of the physics department, and thanks to his powers and natural charisma, managed to get a first-hand look at the thing, even to the point of trying it on and messing around with it.

After some experimentation, and some tinkering on his behalf by the inventor of the belt, again thanks to his powers, Frankie determined that he could indeed use the belt and be free from the effects of his own pheromones. Not only that, but the belt would give him some serious other advantages.

It was here that his powers failed him for the first time. Asking if he could keep the belt, the professor refused. Stunned, Frankie walked away.

That night, as he tossed and turned in his bed, Frankie came to a decision.

He had enough of this world screwing him over by handing him the powers that it had, and the lack of control, warning, or immunity that had come with them. He’d had enough of being the whipping boy, some kind of cosmic joke.

He went back to the lab to take the belt. He’d just put it on and activated it when he was interrupted by the professor. Angry, he roared at the man to just leave him alone, but the white coat came at him with a scalpel, probably fueled by Frankie’s own rage.

Rage which boiled to even greater heights at seeing this new, murderous attack, rage, which took physical form in a cloud of chemicals that literally exploded outwards from Frankie, utterly disintegrating everything it touched for a good 50 feet in every direction, and leaving heavy damage behind for a good fifty feet beyond that.

There was nothing left of the professor or his scalpel, and there would have been nothing left of Frankie, either, if he hadn’t been wearing the belt. In any case, there was nothing left of the floor, and Frankie, new at using the belt, having had only a couple of hours practice earlier, fell into the basement, even as part of the building caved in on top of him. Fortunately his surprise overrode his hatred, and the corrosive chemicals dissipated before he fell much more than three floors below the basement. He’d started out on the third.

Thanks to the force field, he was completely unhurt. At least, physically. He’d killed a man, something he’d never done before, and he’d stolen, and he was buried under tons of rubble. He cried tears of frustration, anger and sadness, all rolled into one, and railed at the world anew. When he finished crying, he was tired of being a plaything, of being fate’s bitch. He resolved that he was going to be the one pulling the strings from then on.

With much experimentation, he was finally able to use his corrosive pheromones and his flight, thanks to the belt, to tunnel his way out from under the physics building. When he got to the surface, he found that it was the next day, and he was wanted for questioning in connection with the explosion that had subsequently destroyed the physics lab. Mostly from him and his corrosive chemicals having passed through a store room in the basement on his way out.

Because of him, 103 people had died in less than two minutes.

Whatever else he would become, Frankie could never be a hero now.

Fortunately, no-one really knew about his powers, and while he might be a suspect, and his body had never been found, there was nothing to say that he had stolen the belt. He could, in theory, have died in that explosion. He might be able to use the belt to get together enough money to blow this pop stand and live a life of comfort in a place where no-one even knew him. To finally leave behind all the pain and horror.

He chose, at that moment, to recognize the poison his life had been up until that point, and took on a new part to play: that of Toxin. Toxin would be an amoral bastard, out to make money anyway he could, with no restraints whatsoever, until the day someone else could step out from behind that mask, and perhaps live a better life, once everything that had been lost was restored….

Maybe with a little interest. Damages, too, for the suffering.

In the vault, away from the blaring noise of Dr. Bedlam's weapon, Toxin's black-gloved hands are carefully bagging up the contents of fifteen safe-deposit boxes; boxes that were formerly full of high-dollar jewellry. Next to him on the floor lies a black backpack, stuffed with hundred dollar bills.

Clad in blue jeans and a black t-shirt with a neon-orange biohazard symbol on the front of it, Toxin's face is covered by a simple black woolen ski-mask, and his forcefield crackles occassionally as it interacts with the other items in the vault.

"Just a few more minutes, and then I can get out of here, with no one the wiser," he thinks to himself. "After all, I already corroded my way through the main trunk line for the phones in the area on my way in here, so any alarms they have to detect intruders in the vault should be thoroughly out of commission," While continuing to pack things into the red and white gym bag he brought with him, he glances back at the tunnel leading out of the bank, and coming out in a drainage culvert over a mile away.

"This is too easy," he says aloud, speaking for the first time since he entered the bank.

[Ghal Marak]

Valentin stood on the roof of a nearby building, looking down on the bank. "This is crazy." He turned and walked back far enough to get a running jump. "But damnit, I'm gonna do it!" He looked down at his clothing, just to double check himself. He was wearing a pair of jeans, a hoodie with the hood pulled up, and a watch. He had no shoes on, because he didn't need them.

He looked down at his hands feet and marveled again at how strange he must look. His skin was a dark grey, with trace flecks of a black substance all over him. His hair had fallen out, leaving him bald, and he found out that he could step on a nail barefoot and bend it with no injury to himself. His voice had taken deeper, gravel-on-gravel inflection to it, making him sound gruff and angry. And so, he decided to rob a bank.

Valentin, or rather, Dark Star as he now calls himself, looked up at a jet flying by. "Tom, you rat bastard." Angered by the sudden memory of Tom, Dark Star ran and leaped off the roof, trying to reach the bank.

((Do I need to roll a jump?))

[Blackbird]

Chaos erupts in the bank at the first maddening notes. Most of the people in the bank, the five guards among them, start immeaditely fighting one another as the strange sounds enter their minds, others falling to the floor instead, catatonic.

A rare five bystanders manage to resist the maddening dirge, turning to attack the two thugs accompanying the Doctor.

A bystander with a mad look in his eyes charges Doubletalk, an equally crazed guard drawing his baton and also fighting his way through the mob to get at 'Doctor Bedlam'.

Two guards flee with terror in their eyes, straight in the direction of the vault, the safe-deposit boxes and Toxin.

To add to the confusion, suddenly Dark Star comes crashing in through the roof, pulverizing the waiting area in the corner of the bank. The floor of the bank cracks under his bare feet but he seems to be miraculously unharmed.

Meanwhile, the guard outside by the armored car sees Dark Star's entrance, drawing his gun and running for the bank. Entering, he aims his pistol at the grey man, shouting "Freeze!" over the sounds of madness in the bank.

A paniced bank teller crawls into one of the bank's offices, moving to block the door with the chair.

((No need to roll, there's no jump-skill in MnM and you don't have any ranks in Acrobatics. Have you gotten the book yet?))

[Ghal Marak]

Dark Star

"Whoa, it worked." When he heard the guard yell at him, Dark Star started laughing. "Ahahahahahaha! Oh man, that's rich. Yeah, like I'm gonna freeze. You tell yourself that." Dark Star finaly looked around at all the madness going down. "Damn, what did I miss? Ah, forget it." Dark Star, ignoring the guard and everything else, enters the teller line and makes for the vault.

((Uh, funny story, but no I don't have the book yet. Apparently, books-a-million had to cancel the order, because they didn't have it. SO, one of these days I'm heading to the mall, where the will more than likely have it.))

[ravenkith]

Toxin, fully concealed by his stealth field, and having just picked up both bags, nonetheless takes a moment to change the chemical makeup of his pheromones so that it inflicts nausea in those who fall under it's sway. (FORT DC 20, everything within 100ft (pretty much everything in the bank), decreasing dc by 1 for every ten feet).

"I'd rather not have one of these jokers get lucky," he thinks to himself. "It sounds like all hell is breaking loose out there...I'd better take a look,"

[Green Bean]

"You dare attack Doctor Bedlam!?! Bah! I have no time for this!"

Doubletalk ducks around his charging opponent with surprising agility for an 'old man', trusting his thugs to deal with him. He heads purposefully for the bank teller's office, weaving in and out of the fray. If anyone attacks him, he evades and moves on, trusting the mind-scrambling effect to keep too many opponents from focusing on him at once. Calibrating his voice to the appropriate freqency for his target, he uses his vibration blast on the door, simultaneously gesturing with his silvery device.

((Combat actions; move action towards bank office, avoiding foes. Standard action to Vibration Control (Blast) the door.))

[PsyBlade]

OOC: I'm posting my combat actions. I'll leave rolling up to you Blackbird.

Cubit 0[Original]: Babble incoherently.

Cubit 1['Thug' 1]: Roger! Attacks one of the wannabe heroes with his claw attack (Strike power).

Cubit 2['Thug' 2]:Roger! Attacks a different wannabe, pretty much same way.

I'd say that Cubit's inexperience in combat will have his copies attacking in similar style for a few battles. Once he has practiced a bit more his copies will be different actions that 'feel' more focused like they were trained for team combat (which really they aren't).

[Blackbird]

Initiative:
Doubletalk 21
Toxin 18
Guards 18
Cubit 17
Dark Star 14
Duplicates 10
Bystanders 2

The 'mad doctor' weaves his way through the fray, a gesture from his device and a sonic blast unheard by everyone else punches a hole in the office door, sending splinters flying in every direction.

Toxin releases his pheromones into the air, causing further chaos in the bank. Of the two guards running for him and the vault behind the tellers line, one falls to the ground clutching his stomach as he shames himself then and there. The other guard seems to be able to shake of the effects of the toxins, continuing his run.

The hulking grey-skinned behemoth seems to be unfazed by the potent toxins assaulting him. Half of the bystanders in the bank fall to the floor, helpless, while the other half were sickened by the pheromones assaulting them. One of the two thugs is nauseated by the attack, able to do little more than crawl away from the growing smell, while the other one is fine, as is their puppeteer hiding in the crowd while Doctor Bedlam seems to be too focused on his mad ravings to be affected by the pheromones.

The guard standing by the door aims at Dark Star and pulls the trigger, the shot going wide. Cursing under his breath, the guard starts fighting his way through the mess and to the tellers line and the vault. The enraged guard, screams like a madman as he swings his nightstick at Doubletalk, missing the man completely and cracking some unfortunate's skull. The guard at the vault scratches his head in confusement at the seemingly empty vault, moving inside to investigate further.

Dark Star finds a guard lieing on the floor behind the tellers line, too busy defecating to bother with him, while another guard is searching through the vault. The only duplicate still standing lashes out at the guard that took a swing at Doubletalk. The man lands in a heap on the floor, not getting back up.

[Green Bean]

Curses! The vault door was open the whole time! Guess I don't need the hostage in that office after all.

Easily evading the expected attack from the guard, Doubletalk was nevertheless shocked at the sudden feelings of nausea that threaten to overwhelm him. Shaking it off, he was once again surprised at the sudden appearance of an odd, grey-skinned man. He decides to 'clear the air', and give himself a little time to think

"Ahahaha! Your chaos amuses me, but I think it is time to finish this once and for all!" Doubletalk raves, gesturing once again with his device and attuning his voice to the mind controlling wavelength his specializes in.

"All who are not with me; SIT! STAY!"

((Standard action to Mind Control, move action to give orders))

[ravenkith]

Ignoring the commands of the would-be bank robber, Toxin, amused, steps invisibly into the Teller's area and parks himself up on one of the counters, so as to be out of the way of foot traffic, backpack on securely, and gym bag across his cross-legged lap.

Feeling the resonance in the voice, and seeing others obey the stranger's commands, he carefully plugs his ears with his fingers.

"This should be pretty funny," he thinks to himself. "I wonder what Mage-bane will make of all this...?"

Move action to step out of the vault and hop up on the counter on the right, getting situated with my back to the exterior wall, Standard Action to plug my ears, which theoretically, would render his powers useless, or simply give me a +4 on the saves (which I find more likely).

[Nyrath]

The construct humanoid known merely as Mage Bane, even to himself, had been sitting perched on a rooftop some distance from, but in sight of, the bank. His companion Toxin seemed to have a grudge of some sort, that was something that he himself could understand, but the skinny man was so much better to work with than his old master. Why, he'd even been offered compensation to provide cover in the event that it would be needed, that in his mind meant that Toxin clearly thought of him as more than just a weapon or a mere tool.

His swirling thoughts meant that it took a moment before his mind registered what his eyes had told him; that someone had gone through the roof of the bank. This likely meant that Toxin needed him, his companion had been wise to have assistance prepared. The construct sprung into action and leapt* towards the hole formed by the one whose entry had managed to push the blades-master out of his revery. Now as he was going through the air he noted the commotion audiable within the bank, likely he would need to be more vigilant in the future.

Touching down inside the bank the magical warrior takes but a split second to take in the action, then opts to knock out the clearly enraged guard first before more as yet unnecessary collateral damage is inflicted by that flailing nightstick.

((Move to enter the bank and get to the guard [tactical movement of 2.500ft should manage] then a non-lethal attack to try and take him out.))

*Even a standing jump with an average acrobatics roll ends up as a potential 900ft jump, I do think MB'll make the it.

[PsyBlade]

Cubit caught a small wiff of something that caused his stomach to lurch, but thankfully instinctive reflexes saved him from being truely effected. The same could not be said of one of his copies though. He was quite pleased when his remaining copy took out a guard though. Focus on any that attack us or the Client. You get out of here, it's in our best interest.

Nauseated Copy is trying to crawl away. If possible, he'll use his speed power. Fine Copy will attack greatest apparent threat to the Cubits or Doubletalk (they're all expecting the Guards to consider Doubletalk the greatest threat of the three). The our was referencing Cubit and Doubletalk, not Cubit and the copies (like he'd care about the copies since they're going bye-bye at some time).

ooc:

The enraged guard, screams like a madman as he swings his nightstick at Doubletalk, missing the man completely and cracking some unfortunate's skull.

Did this guard roll a 1? Just checking, but I do admit it's amusing.

[Ghal Marak]

Dark Star

"...holy crap! It's a mad house in here. Man, I better get out of here. After I get the money, of course." Ignoring the desturbing sight of the man crapping his pants, Dark Star walked over to the entrance of the Vault. He looked at the guard in the vault for a sec, then he spoke. "You loose something buddy?"

((I'm going to say that since Dark Star is trying to ignore most of the chaos, he didn't see Mage Slayer drop down through the hole he made in the roof.))

[ravenkith]

"Dam(n)...are these all bad guys?" thinks Toxin, careful not to make any noise as the big grey guy goes right past him. "This many 'villains' in one place, shouldn't be too long before somekind of hero shows up...." he thinks, wincing as he does.

"I shoudln't've thought that," he remonstrates himself, silently, waiting for the inevitable arrival of 'The Good Guys' (TM).

[Blackbird]

Initiative:
Mage Bane 28
Doubletalk 21
Toxin 18
Guards 18
Cubit 17
Dark Star 14
Duplicates 10
Bystanders 2

The construct known as Mage Bane is a blur of movement as he descends into the bank through the hole in the roof, the flurry of blows unleashed by the swords appearing in his hands battering a guard to the floor.

The effects of Doubletalk's mind control spread out through the building. The bystanders not already on the ground fall flat on their rears on it, along with one of the only two guards still standing while the other manages to fight the command through sheer force of will. None of the Cubits or Mage Bane fall prey to the mental command. For that matter, neither does Dark Star.

Toxin, also unaffected by the potent mind control, gets out of the way, his concealment making hiding child's play. The only guard left standing in the bank is the one in the vault, drawing his gun and pointing it at the dark-skinned strongman. The man's aim is way of and the shot ricochets of the back of the wall. The grey giant lumbers to the guard who is now very much near to doing what his friend just did.

The nauseated thug suddenly accelerates, exiting the building at top speeds before stopping to lie low in the bushes outside the bank. With all bystanders and guards incapacitated, the other thug mearly positions himself between 'Doctor Bedlam' and the second humanoid to enter the bank via the roof.

[Green Bean]

By this point, Doubletalk was barely surprised when some sort of super fast robot crashed through the hole in the ceiling and started fighting the guards. He knew his plan was pretty much shot, but he prided himself on his ability to improvise. He faces the two visible newcomers

"Wait! Doctor Bedlam has a great deal of respect for those who create so much chaos. Perhaps we could talk before we need fight?"

[PsyBlade]

Stay put until you're feeling better. Cubit commands the nauseated thug. He makes certain to act like he is under Doubletalk's command.

I hope he doesn't think we already stole all the money in the bank, thinks the ok thug. He gets into a defensive stance. If attacked or if the 'Doctor' is attacked, he will use his Defensive Attack feat.

[Ghal Marak]

Dark Star glanced over at 'Doctor Bedlam', then back at the security guard holding him at gunpoint. "Hang on Doc, I'll be with you in a sec." Dark Star stepped into the vault and got in the guards face. "Don't mess with me punk, or I'll pull your arms off and toss you into the ocean." To back it up, Dark Star pulled his sleeves up and glared at him.


((Intimidation attempt. If it is successful, Dark Star then searches the vault for the money. If not, then he grapples the guard and tries to use the gun against the guard.))

[ravenkith]

"Ugh. Noobs." Toxin thinks to himself. "Then again, I haven't got a whole hell of a lot of experience myself..."

He shifts slightly in his seat as he studies the creature in front of him.

"Could be a very powerful ally. I've already gotten friendly with Mage-Bane, but a little extra muscle never hurts...mind you, he ain't gonna be pleased that someone already hit the vault...and got the best stuff. Must be a half a mill, easy, between the gems and the cash. Most of what's left is chump change, I reckon," he ponders for a moment.

"No, they're not going to be happy at all...and who wants to split the take this many ways...?"

[Blackbird]

The last guard quakes in his boots at the attention of the man who fell through the roof of the bank without a scrath. It's obvious he's got no intention of stopping Dark Star as the grey-skinned goliath moves to search the vault. Unfortunately the place seems to have already been ransacked, although not everything has been taken. The most valuable stuff is gone though.

[Axelgear]

And that is when the situation gets worse. Much worse. At least for those who get in the way of the newcomer...

There is an echo of what sounds like the roar of an aircraft engine outside the walls of the bank, near the drive-through area where it is structurally weaker, and it rapidly gets louder and louder, air rushing past the doors as if a great, raging inferno is building up and causing the floors of the building itself to shake. The ground quakes and rumbled, the air simmers, and the people are understandably terrified at the unusual sound. Then its origin is made clear.

With what can only be described as a tumultuous and ear-splitting explosion, a section of the wall of the bank is blown open by a great gout of flame, showering those behind it with rubble as the bricks turn to ash in the air and are scattered about the room like a fine, gritty dust picked up by an ill wind. In the new causeway opened up for the convenience of villains everywhere, a shadow steps forth, hidden a moment by the cloud of rubble. When it fades, there stands an immaculately dressed figure of black, red, and, on his face and hands, white.

"Morning Gents, just here to make a withdrawal."

It is a wickedly sly grin that spreads across his face and, with a callous abandon, he simply walks across the room, sniffing about for the likely direction of a bank vault. When he notices, through some unseen scent, people cowering by the vault door behind the tellers desk, he walks callously over to said desk, which still has a young lady teller sitting at it, and unleashes another gout of flame, consuming her and opening yet another path through which to walk. He doesn't even flinch or warn before turning her to a blackened skeleton. He then casts a discerning glance around the bank to any horrified faces.

"I would've asked her out for dinner, but she was in between me and what I wanted, you see."

He then simply walks in and crushes her skull underneath his boot while heading to the vault, his body periodically tossing off licks of flame that indicate some hidden defense and his stride dismissive of the other villains there, acting as if he doesn't even see them. That is, until he arrives at the vault and realizes it has already been picked apart...

Spoiler

Show

How's THAT for an entrance? I hope it's allowed... A brick wall should not be beyond Mal's effort to take down, and if necessary consider I took a full-round action to power it up, making it an unbeatable attack. Then he strolled inside, took out a cashier, and is making his way to the vault. He discovered it because of being able to sense the souls of anyone hiding by it. His force-field is up.

[Ghal Marak]

Dark Star

"What tha- Damnit! Just my luck!!" Dark Star spun around and left the vault. Stopping just outside the vault he looked over all the various villians. "Okay, who has the damn money?!? I have things to do, and I need to get going." He crossed his arms and waited.

[PsyBlade]

Cubit

The only standing 'Thug' went slack-jawed. Of course, it would be hard to see it through his mask. To him, killing without a VERY GOOD REASON was one of the worst mistakes anyone could make. Reasonably, he starts trembling with that guy around.

The REAL Cubit, defecates. He was not ready for a such a blatant vile act.

Nauseated Cubit continues to hurl, and feels even more queasy for a reason he doesn't know yet.

[ravenkith]

"Well sheiB, as my mutti would have said," thinks the invisible Toxin.

"I don't think I want anything to do with him. Time to go," with that, he hops down from the counter where he was sitting, and heads over to the end of the row of counters, where the original door was.

"Chances are, with that big hole in the counter, no one's going to bother going down to the far end," Toxin reasons. "I've got to get over by Mage-bane and tell him it's time to split. The rest of these guys are frickin' crazy."

OOC: As a player, I'm deliberately leaving room for a listen check so that the rest of the party can catch on. As a character, I'd almost certainly proceed as stealthily as possible. I'll let the DM decide which is the case here, and whether to allow the listen check or not...if he can get the party back together again later, my character would definitely do all he could to avoid getting caught...as a player, I don't want to split the party up and cause trouble.

[Green Bean]

This is not good.

Doubletalk wasn't a killer. It wasn't because of squeamishness, or a moral code. Murder meant that you were playing on a whole new level. The police will go after you that much harder, the criminal underside won't protect you; you're a liability. And murderers attracted the more...serious brand of heroes. The money no longer mattered. When five different villains showed up for the same payoff, odds are that someone won't feel like sharing. He had no desire to start a super-powered brawl. Besides, there were other banks.

I guess you've got to know when to hold 'em...

He turns to the minion not vomiting outside.

"Let's go."

Just for kicks, he then faces the people who are still under his control.

"Give generously to charity, and support your local library."

Yeah, it would eventually wear off, but mind controllers could have pranks to.

((I will stop if I think there's someone invisible here. I have a +15 notice, for your convenience.))

[Axelgear]

((And Mal has another interesting trick))

Mal grins wickedly as he suddenly realizes what was going on. As Toxin rushes past him, his red-dotted pupils turn to face the other villain and he points his finger, opening a bolt of flame at the ground just before the door, it burning with an unnatural intensity. He then slowly walks towards him, eyes fixated on the invisible runner.

"Cute. Invisibility, heh heh... Hand over the valuables, please, before I claim your skull."

Mal isn't playing around, his eyes fixated sharply on Toxin. He sniffs the air gently, as if able to follow him over the brimstone scent cast into the air by the hellfire.

"You're not a murderer, no... You're just a thief. I am, however. You probably actually saw that, in fact. So please, just hand over the money or I will be forced to make sure you don't get a chance to spend it."

Mal ***** his head to the side, watching to see what he'll do, a ball of fire being carefully rolled about in his hand.

((Detect Souls, Accurate, Extended.))