Quote Originally Posted by Balmas View Post
Genius takes many forms in this world, but Victor has always mentally divided them into slow or fast genius.

The painter is slow genius: hours of practice, hours of labor, hours of planning, all before the final stroke of gold paint ever transforms canvas to wheat field. The scientist is slow genius, with the gentle and gradual accrual of knowledge that meticulously accounts for errors and bias. Slow genius is Edison's hundred iterations of the lightbulb until an economic, slow-burning fiber can be found to bright light to darkness.

Fast genius is the apple of Newton, the "Eureka!" and subsequent streaka of Archimedes' overflowing bathtub. Fast genius is Victor knowing how to assemble an electromagnet tuned specifically to an axe, because come on, isn't it obvious? A child could figure that out. Fast genius is Victor making crucial tweaks in Dr. Gears' notes because of the efficiency increase they'd obviously bring.

And right now, covered in possums, fast genius is Victor laughing because inspiration has just handed him the answer to this fight. See, Possum Girl brought the wrong weapon to fight against somebody with nanite limbs. You might as well try to hurt playdough by cutting it. Let's see some stupid overgrown rats do that!

So he hurls the hand holding the elecromagnet to the ground and tells it to run away, dragging the axe closer. After all, inspiration has never been wrong before.
The crowd lets out a sympathetic moan as the flat of an axe slams directly into your torso. It pitches you over the side, possums and nanites streaming from your overbalanced body, and before you've recovered mentally you're lying on your back on the ground and your everything hurts. The sharp end of the axe is buried in the concrete an inch from your head. As your eyes start to focus you even see Possum Girl looking down at you sympathetically.

"He stole my axe!" she said dramatically after a moment. "Oh, how am I supposed to execute all of these criminals without my trusty axe?" She stomped up and down on the rooftop for a moment. "I guess you win this round, hero, but I will be back and I will finish the job - when you least expect it! I will have my revenge on everyone who still occupies this building - and then, upon society as a whole! Come, General Oswald!"

Well... as far as defeats go it could be worse.

Quote Originally Posted by Raz_Fox View Post
[X]: Insecure FULL OF HUBRIS

“Hyyybrrrr.” Look, you try saying anything more intelligible while stunned. And also without the mouth structure for more. The tail limply thwaps against Comstar-IKA’s pockets. Thwip, thwap, thwomp. “Hyyybrrrr! Eccchh! Ecccttrrrrrrrkkk! Hyyybrrr!”

This devolves into Sara miming pointing a claw at things, going “pew pew” and then a shotgun ker-clunk as she resheathes the claw. C’mon, this is Cyberbiology 101, get the clue!

"You want... me to get you a gun? There's a gun in my pocket?" said Com-IKA haplessly. "You want ear scratches! No, you want your lasers, um, I don't know how to..." she struggles her hand across to Tigerphim's back. A pink light comes on. "Oh hey, what? There's all this stuff in my eye - aah!" She yelps as a sequence of hardlight lasers blast into a nearby tree. "Oh! I can activate your laser array! Um!"

The virus in Comstar's system is still there and dormant, and since that was controlled by her neural cybernetics she doesn't have that link yet in her new body. Angel-IKA can fire your lasers! But...

"Um, I can't turn my neck," said Angel-IKA. "So I can't really see what I'm shooting at. I need you to help me aim your lasers."

Quote Originally Posted by PhoeKun View Post
She's got a chance. That frame is utterly beyond her, but it's still Victoria Messermitt inside it and she's probably not expecting any kind of move from Errant. All she needs to do is put a tiny crack somewhere on that thing, and the rest would take care of itself. She glances sidelong at the Shogun. She tenses for motion. She nods.

But! If she made that move, Victoria's foot might come down before the real final blow could come. If she made that move, someone might die. The call of Errant's heart is not "beat the bad guy". If it was, she'd be someone other than Euna Kim. So she lunges: one final burst of speed from her poor overworked leg. She crosses the distance in an instant and slides right under that terrible foot. She plants herself as best she can with whatever leg she has left. Shields that abhorrent brain-in-a-jar with her right arm (gross, gross, gross), tries to deflect the coming stomp with her left. Her eyes are defiant as she stares up into the face of bleeding edge death.

"...You don't listen, do you?"

[Errant spends her hold to make it there in time, and Defends the super icky hostage. 2d6+3 = 9. She clears Guilty, and exposes herself to danger]


"I'm sorry, Errant. The damage was too severe. I had to extract your bra-AAAAAAI-iiiinnnnNNN!"

JuneBird waves the spooky green tube containing Turbo Knight's brain over your head as you come to in the USAT med-bay. "Luckily it didn't seem to be connected to anything so I don't think you'll notice any differences," she said, punching you in the arm (oh, hey, your arm is still there, that's one out of four). "Seriously, what the hell? What made you think overclocking your limbs was a good idea? You could have gotten hurt!"

It's a weird statement to make to someone who's down from twenty fingers and toes to four, but you're not hurt. Lot of synaptic feedback, which was what knocked you out, but as devastating as the damage is all of it was to parts you lost years ago. You feel surprisingly fine.