You are (Not) the Heroes IC

"Staying hidden sounds smart." Clockwork takes the hammer and inspects it carefully. "You don't wanna tick off anything in the Power Ponies' weight class."

"I can work with a lightning trap." Clockwork turns and grabs a screwdriver, busying herself with fiddling with the head of the hammer. "You wanted protective gear, right? The wardrobe on the left, the top three boxes should be filled with face masks of all kinds. Sizes between XL and XXXS available."

"Tinks, pass me a size 3 spanner." The mare holds out a hoof, and seemingly on its own, a spanner moves from its storage box into Clockwork's hoof and she continues to work on the hammer. "This hammer. Where'd you get it? It's really well engineered."

Sunset moves aside to let Daff have his turn, and starts perusing Clockwork's inventory herself.

"She may not be dumb," she says, "but she might not have all the facts, either. As far as we heard, she's figured out that somethin's stalkin' her, not necessarily what it is or what it'll do to her if she calls it out."

As she browses, Sunset's attention lands on several devices and weapons that might come in useful.

"If she's as bullheaded as I'm hopin' she ain't, the trick'll be gettin' her to listen to us. She's major league, and we only just broke radio news."

She takes a box of web grenades and a case of double-loaded rubber slugs off the shelves, and sets them next to her old costume. She makes a mental note of other items for the future; for now, she'll start simple.

Then her eyes light up.

"And I think I mighta thought of a way to get her attention without cheesin' her off," she says. "Clockwork, do you have anything to make me look like a pregnant mare?"

"We found it with some other stuff in our hideout. Sunset says they're probably from copycats from some old hero group," Daff explains to Clockwork as he eagerly takes a look inside the wardrobe.

He begins picking through some of the boxes, then barely suppresses a laugh when Sunset asks Clockwork to make her look pregnant. "Tricking her doesn't sound very nice," he says cautiously as he holds various tiny little masks up to Rousseau.

"Ah! This one fits! But it hides your cute face, and makes you look scary. Are you sure? Well, that makes sense. Oh, and this little cloth could work as a cape! And there's enough to use as a hood, in case it's a cold day!... It might need some adjustements, though."

Daff continues digging through the boxes while the others get helped, looking for a larger mask for himself.

"Sure," Clockwork reattaches everything to the hammer and lifts it, nodding in satisfaction. "It's called a stallion and nine months."

"Seriously, though, it's a workshop, not a dress-up store. I'm sure you'll look pregnant enough in a stuffed gown. Anyway, I'll need to work on your new costume for a little longer - give it a week and I'll get back to you. In the meantime I'll patch up your old costume."

Clockwork starts perusing the shelves, retrieving a small stack of what looks like button pins. "Miniature energy absorption shields. Disposable, don't expect one to survive more than a few blasts of lightning at a time. Assuming the lightning is Zapp level, that is. Take a few each."

She then busies herself with throwing Sunset Raider's old outfit into a bizarre sewing machine-like device and beginning to work the fabric, sewing up the broken parts and slapping on patches where the tears are too significant. "You sound like you need some time to plan. Tell you what, you finish your shopping and leave the stuff you want to keep with me - I'll still need to tweak them up and make sure they're not faulty. You can go for lunch, plan, do whatever, and come back after noon to collect your stuff. Sound good?"

AleneShazam wrote:"Sure," Clockwork reattaches everything to the hammer and lifts it, nodding in satisfaction. "It's called a stallion and nine months."

Sunset's hoof flew to her face, and her cheeks turned pink. "I meant, like, a fake..."

AleneShazam wrote:"Seriously, though, it's a workshop, not a dress-up store. I'm sure you'll look pregnant enough in a stuffed gown. Anyway, I'll need to work on your new costume for a little longer - give it a week and I'll get back to you. In the meantime I'll patch up your old costume."

Clockwork starts perusing the shelves, retrieving a small stack of what looks like button pins. "Miniature energy absorption shields. Disposable, don't expect one to survive more than a few blasts of lightning at a time. Assuming the lightning is Zapp level, that is. Take a few each."

Sunset takes three.

AleneShazam wrote:She then busies herself with throwing Sunset Raider's old outfit into a bizarre sewing machine-like device and beginning to work the fabric, sewing up the broken parts and slapping on patches where the tears are too significant. "You sound like you need some time to plan. Tell you what, you finish your shopping and leave the stuff you want to keep with me - I'll still need to tweak them up and make sure they're not faulty. You can go for lunch, plan, do whatever, and come back after noon to collect your stuff. Sound good?"

"Sure. Ya want I should pull my truck around back for you to have a look at?"

Dove Colt, still slightly transparent, thinks about Clockwork's response for a moment, before cringing. "Ew, gross!"

Shaking his head, Dove looks around the workshop for the next piece of equipment to toy around with. Finding a device with a big button on it, Dove gives the button a cautious poke-

-and reappears five feet away, extremely disoriented. "Whu-wha- what was - oh my gosh, it's a teleporter! Miss Clockwork, can I keep it?"

He picks it up, looking at it intently. "I'm gonna call you Bluejay. You're living with us now!"

He sets it down next to Sunset Raider's own pile of stuff and goes off to find something that he can mount onto his birds. He also swipes four pins and stuffs them into his hoodie pocket.

Gaia takes a few of the buttons out of curiosity and puts them into her satchel. "I think I'll step out. Not much that I can make use of here, and the smell of machine oil is... not the best. I'll be waiting upstairs when you guys are done."

With that she makes her way back upstairs and begins looking at the various mechanical curiosities again.

While others were order new equipment for themselves Flaming was taking a more DIY approach as he stood in the kitchen of his apartment, watching over several pots with the eyes of a Pegasus... only one with a greater attention span then most. Pots rested on the stove and the concotion inside bubbled away happily; Mixtures that he had created himself via trial and error in order to be used in the fight against crime and those who meant harm to the innocent.

Besides the pots was a frying pan upon which he was making pancakes.Flaming knew for a fact from the items that he had found around the apartment when he got home that his roommate Pecolt hadn't come home alone last night; He had lived with the griffon for over eight months now and after he had gotten over his surprise and shock over some of the things that his deviant of a roommate got up to in the bedroom Flaming had simply gotten into the habit of making something to eat for whomever had been the latest victim of Pecolt's charms and offering an sympathetic ear to those that were coming to regret the actions of the night before. Considering the wide variety of partners that Flaming had seen come out of Pecolt's room in the relatily short time that they had been living together, he was honestly rather interested to see what came out of there now.

Dice Rolls:

"Mm. Go wild." Clockwork says to Dove Colt. "I'm sure the old geezer wouldn't mind. First time's free anyway."

Turning to Sunset Raider, she nods and waves a hoof. "Sure, you do that. I'll look it over later. Tink, unlock the door, please."

Upstairs, Gaia notices the front door unlock and swing open.

---

There comes a thump from Pecolt's room, and stumbling out is a pony who is surprisingly normal considering the individuals the Chef's seen coming out of the same room. Young, probably inexperienced, and possessing a boyish kind of pretty appearance, it's easy to imagine how he fell for Pecolt's wiles, and why Pecolt would pursue him. He takes a few steps unsteadily, before coming over to the kitchen, attracted by the smell of food.

"Are those... pancakes?" The young stallion asks, hopefully, sitting down within sight of the kitchen. "Goodness, I could use some food... especially after - urf!"

He puts a hoof on his muzzle, clearly fighting back a wave of nausea - he reeks of alcohol, probably hung over something awful. "And... and water... oh my head hurts..."

So then lets buck some sense into zap, before those Locusts suck her dry.Zellbriq and Inu then move back out , he takes the take away bag and strats eating until everypony else is coming outside.

"She's major league, we're bush. She'd buck it right back into us."

Sunset climbs into Ol' Trigger, and closes the door.

"And if she don't, then the rest o' the Power Ponies might, if that Locust don't cream us while we're still weak from fightin' Zapp. Then there's the city seein' heroes fightin' heroes on top of all that. We fight Zapp, nopony wins. Be right back, 'n' I'll tell ya what I'm thinkin'."

She starts the truck and drives it around behind the shop, then comes back through the front door moments later, still sans costume.

"Like I said in there," she says, "we only know that Zapp knows she's bein' stalked. So she might not know what she's tryin' to fight, or what it'll do to her. We can't very well tell her, because she'd just as soon blow us off.

"But she'll have to stop and pay attention to an injured or pregnant innocent. That's why I asked about lookin' the part. I'll go in, get her attention, get her talkin' about what she's fightin'. She'll let on what she knows and don't know. Then one o' y'all come out and fill in the blanks for her. If the bugs show up, I'll be Zapp's reason to dial back and avoid collateral damage to keep from harmin' me herself...or bug outta the fight altogether and get me to safety."

She glances at a clock in the shop window.

"Chef said she's plannin' on doin' it this afternoon, so we might have some time to take of our errands." She turns and starts to walk away. "I got some stuff needs doin'. I'll meet up with y'all in a few hours. If ya come up with a better plan, I'll look forward to hearin' it."

"That's a plan." Gaia says, poking at a springy contraption idly. "Hmm. What to do now...?"

She scratches her head for a moment before smirking. "That's... also a plan."

Making sure first that she's out of sight of anyone else (especially Daff), she breathes out, feeling the power of nature flowing through her, and slowly, she begins to shrink down, while her form shifts from a more equine one to a rodent-like one. As she comes out of her transformation, the brand new, teeny tiny, flower-scented flying squirrel looks around to find where Daff is. As she confirms his location, she scurries up to a perch that overlooks his mane, and pushes off, gliding towards Daff's head with pin-point accuracy.

~Make way!~ She squeaks in animal to Rousseau, before landing on Daff's head. Turnining to the resident squirrel, Gaia grins, already feeling her hyperactive squirrel nature take effect. ~Hi Rousseau~

"Hey. Hey Daff. Hey, hey Daff." Willing a bit of wind to gather under her sails, she pushes off again, looping lazily around Daff's head. "Wanna go grab lunch? We can get sandwiches. Or breadsticks. Unlimited breadsticks. Or salad. Your choice!"

It takes Daff longer than even Dove Colt to put together Gizmo's joke. He gasps, reaching his hooves up above his head to try to cover Rousseau's ears. "Shh! There are foals and squirrels here!" he admonishes, looking just a tad embarrassed himself. He quickly distracts himself by picking out a couple of pins for Rousseau. As an afterthought, he takes a couple for himself.

While he's doing this, a new squirrel abruptly lands on his head. Rousseau scampers out of the way, chittering indignantly from surprise as his favorite spot is suddenly invaded. The chittering stops abruptly when he sees another squirrel. He sniffs at her curiously, before pointing demandingly at his usual spot and tapping his foot. Rousseau has to hold on when Daff tilts his head up, confused as a flying squirrel suddenly starts calling his name.

"Rousseau! When did you grow wings? Wait, you aren't Rousseau!" Another moment of confusion before the light bulb turns on.

"Rousseau! You have a friend!" He reaches out, trying to give the "new" squirrel a place to land so he can distribute liberal pets on the head. And possibly a hug. The light bulb above his head suddenly intensifies.

"Or perhaps... a friend. Oh, Rousseau! This is wonderful! Yes, pretty squirrel! We'll find food for you and Rousseau! Come on! I have some bits to spare. Rousseau likes salads, and I can buy you whatever you want! I know a nice quiet spot at the park, next to the lake."

"The pancakes will be a another couple of minutes, through if you want to help yourself to some water the cups are in the second cupboard to the left of the sink and there will be something to take the edge off first cupboard to the right." Flaming answered without really needing to think about it by this point because it was all part of the routine; He would make sure that whomever it was that Pecolt had brought home the night before was in a halfway decent condition (Considering some of the kinks that the griffon was into, a hangover was usually the least of someone's aches and pains) before the griffon himself would make an appearance, make some vague comments that sounded like a promise to call them again before politely but very firmly get them out the door. At least it kept Pecolt mind away from his experiments with the neighbors...

"Goofball." Gaia squeaks playfully, tickling Daff's nose with her bushy tail before draping herself around his neck like a fluffy collar. Once she's comfortable, she squeaks to get Rousseau's attention.

~Is he always this much of a goof?~ She considers this for a moment. ~Eh, I'm sure he'll figure it out eventually~

Without really waiting for a response, she proceeds to entertain herself by spitting out little sparks and watching it flicker and fade. ~...Or not. This could be fun~

Espresso wrote:"Goofball." Gaia squeaks playfully, tickling Daff's nose with her bushy tail before draping herself around his neck like a fluffy collar.

"Yeah," Daff agrees happily. "Rousseau's got a great sense of humor!" He sneezes, then laughs as the flying squirrel drapes herself around his neck.

"Hey, that tickles!"

Espresso wrote:~Is he always this much of a goof?~

Rousseau gives a resigned nod and a rub of a temple with a tiny paw. The squirrel is distracted a second later as little sparks start floating through the air like little orange motes of light. He jumps around, trying to catch them.

Daff trots back up the stairs. "I know the perfect spot for you two!" he declares happily. As they leave, droplets of water form in the air, wiggling about in stasis before they begin zipping around in circles, chasing after the little sparks.

Dove Colt comes out of the shop hesitantly, but understanding that there was grown up work to be done, he calls down a thunderbird and clambers on back. "I need to go home and check on my parents. They get worried when I'm out doing super heroics. See you guys later?"

The bird takes off, and Dove Colt hangs on tight as the thunderbird carries him home.

As zellbriq sees most of the group have something to do, Zellbriq addreses any remaining teammembers: well I´ll go and brign myy stuff I left a the Hideout back home, see you later in the eastern Industrial district. with thta, he calls Inu to his side and they begin to walk back to the Hideout.

It took an hour for the bus to rumble to a stop in the housing projects. The brakes hiss as the doors open, letting Robyn step off and onto the cracked sidewalk.

The Power Ponies may have cleared Maretropolis’ streets of crime, but the damage from their fights combined with the less-than-honest businessponies they can’t legally apprehend has robbed a number of ponies of their homes, forcing them to move into the lower-class parts of town for refuge. The projects are also ideal for staying off-grid; nopony in this part of town cares that much about false identities, double-lives, or skeevy backgrounds, and the police don't pay as much attention to the projects as they used to. If you're living here, you're in the same boat as everypony else, as far as anyone else is concerned.

A five-minute walk from the bus stop brings Robyn to the door of a decrepit apartment building. She ignores the yellow tape across the door with “CONDEMNED” printed in bold black lettering as she pushes her way inside, then heads up to the seond floor. Most of the doors here have been kicked in, bashed in, or taken off their hinges, either by SWAT raids from when this building was used to manufacture drugs or from rival gangs cleaning house. At least, until the Power Ponies stamped gang crimes out in Maretropolis. Since then, this old building's stood condemned and abandeoned, waiting for a demolition appointment that never seemed to come.

One door, however, is still intact. The one door with a segment of L-shaped iron bed railing protruding through the hole where a doorknob used to be. The iron bit shimmers and slides back, allowing the door to swing open into the apartment. A contraption made of more such iron railings is mounted on the inside of the door as Robyn pushes it closed with her hoof and reengages the makeshift lock with her telekinesis. The iron bars hold the door fast against the destroyed walls and door frame around it.

More shorter segments of the same pieces are fastened to the wall across the window using door hinges pulled from elsewhere in the building to form makeshift window blinds. One by one, she props them open, flooding the run-down apartment with sunlight. The wallpaper has all but peeled off the walls, and the walls themselves have started to crumble in places. The cold cement floor bears the hardened glue that used to hold the carpet in place, and tiny black pellets in the corners betray the presence of rats. Well, that and the tiny fresh urine stains on the bare mattress lying on the floor to serve as Robyn's bed.

Normally, Robyn uses the empty jar on the windowsill to dip water out of the flower box outside to wash the rat urine off. This time, though, she just heaves a sigh and crossed the apartment to the three two-foot-tall boxes tucked away in the corner.

She looks into the opened box. Inside is a packaged loaf of slightly-stale bread, a small half-jar of peanut butter, and an assortment of canned food. Her emergency food stash, in case she couldn't afford anywhere better to eat. Robyn grimaces upon seeing the hole chewed in the bread package and the missing chunk from the loaf, as well as the excrements in the box giving away the culprits. She draws the bread out with magic, and tosses it aside with a scowl.

Satisfied that the rats hadn’t gotten into any of the other food, Robyn opens the other two boxes. One has 18 cheap prepaid cell phones in it. The other contains an assortment of papers, most of them legal paperwork that Robyn couldn’t avoid, all of it filed under the name “Merry Clover”; the alias Robyn used to prvent her real name from sounding alarm bells with law enforcement.. The exceptions are two letters at the top of the stack, which float up and out of the box. One is addressed to Trapshot. The other to Robyn Blind.

Robyn sighs and unfolds the letter addressed to Trapshot.

From the desk of El Poncho Grande, Appointed Commissioner of Rio Caballo County, to the vigilante known as Trapshot;

On behalf of the denizens of our fair county, we thank you for your work in exposing and removing the criminal Boss Amble (formerly known as the Calamity Bandit) from our county, and restoring power over it to those to whom it rightfully belongs. We wish you the best of luck on your future endeavors. Should you ever decide to return, know that you are always welcome in Rio Caballo County.

Robyn lets the letter fall back into the box, not even bothering to fold it back as she rereads the other one.

From the desk of El Poncho Grande, Appointed Commissioner of Rio Caballo County, to the Miss Robyn Blind;

As you may be aware, your father and the former commissioner, Boss Amble, has been forcibly removed from office, and the county is now under new government. As the county’s newly-appointed commissioner, I have deemed it prudent to banish you from the county on the grounds that your proximity to Mr. Amble and your participation in his crimes, however indirect, makes you an accessory to and as guilty of the same as Mr. Amble himself. Should you ever try to return, our county’s police department will be under orders to arrest you on sight, and we will prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law on those charges.

The box levitates into the air, and the second letter drops back into it. Robyn takes it downstairs, then into the alley beside the building. A group of haggard-looking ponies huddle around a trash can fire, only acknowledging Robyn’s presence with a side glance before moving the make room. The box flies up over the fire, then overturns and dumps its contents into it, while the vagrants catch stray papers, wad them up, and toss them back into the fire. The box then passes to the nearest vagrant, who immediately sets about tearing the box into smaller pieces to add it to the fire while Robyn heads back into the building.

That left the food and the phones. Robyn closes the box of phones, and levitates it and the box of food behind her as she leaves. She donates the canned goods to a nearby shelter on the way back to he bus stop, taking only the peanut butter with her. She uses a plastic spoon from a passing ice cream pony to polish it off on the bus ride back to the western industrial district, and tosses the empty jar into the nearest dumpster upon arrival.

As she navigates back to the hideout, she casts the occasional glance to the eastern sky, and mulls over her plan in her head. She enters the warehouse to find Crimson already in his costume and organizing his equipment in preparation for the confrontation with Zapp. She greets him with a short nods as she crosses to the corner of the hideout she staked out earlier and sets her one box down.

That done, she claims her costume and gear from the crate. The holes and wear on the costume are patched, and the costume is cleaner than Robyn remembered it ever being. The same is true of her guns; her shotgun and revolvers have received a very thorough cleaning, and many of the scuffs and scratches were gone or less noticeable. Even her Invis Watch was polished and sporting a new battery.

Then she brings out a smooth, buttonless device with a lanyard tying a tag and a small booklet to it, her brow furrowed in confusion. Then she registers the tag is a note from Clockwork saying that this was a more recent vehicle remote designed for unicorn heroes, which Clockwork had taken the liberty of pairing to Ol' Trigger's new remote module. The booklet is a tiny book of very simple spells to cast on the device, each translating into a command to relay to the vehicle. No formal arcane training necessary. Start engine, come to location, turn on electronics...activate chromatic paint?

She passes Daff ("Hi, Daff!") and Gaia ("Hey, Gaia!") on her way out the door to test her new gadget. She reads the chromatic paint spell, and casts it on the new remote. The remote makes no sound, but the truck reacts immediately, turning cherry red and seeming to blossom into a newer-model pickup with dark-tinted windows. Robyn opens the door...to find Ol' Trigger's worn-out seat and beat-up dashboard.

Aww...

At least Clockwork reattached the loose panels and changed out the fuses. Checking under the hood reveals that a few of Ol' Trigger's old gadgets had been stripped out as well.

With a happy smile, Robyn closes the door and turns to go back into the warehouse, just in time to catch Dove Colt's arrival.

As noon rolls around into the afternoon, and most civilians duck for the cover of their homes or shopping centers from the heat of the urban heatsink, members of the group unites back at the hideout. The gadget using members of the party will find the gear they ordered from Clockwork in a delivery crate sitting in the middle of the hideout, with a note from Argent explaining that their organization will cover the costs of their equipment. Sunset's old repaired costume is there as well, with Ol' Trigger sitting outside the hideout sporting a refurbished chromatic paint job.

The Crimson Chef, having been done with comforting the poor colt and dealing with Pecolt, finishes refining his recipes and heads out. Robyn and Zellbriq each finish lugging their stuff around, Dove Colt flies back from his home, and Daff and Rousseau come back from their outing, with Gaia arriving shortly after the two. Madame Mask also arrives from her own errands.

Daff returns in high spirits, chattering away at Rousseau. From the look on the squirrel's face, this has been going on for a while, now.

"... a flower, or a nice acorn! And don't forget to call her! And don't be nervous. Just treat her like a normal squirrel, or else you'll look like a weirdo and-"

He trails off, voice catching as Gaia enters behind him. "U-uhh... h-hi!" he waves awkwardly as she passes. "What?" he whispers to Rousseau before following to join with the others.

Gaia smiles at Daff, with a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Good afternoon, Daff."

"Had a nice rest?" She asks idly, as she sorts through her medicine pouch to make sure she has all the necessary supplies. "We'll be on the hunt, soon. I hope the pack can agree on a plan."

Dove Colt suddenly drops down from above, his break-neck descent halted by a burst of doves and feathers that allows him to drop safely onto the sidewalk. "What's this about plans?"

He skips over to the crate and fishes out the portable teleporter, strapping it onto a hoof and grinning. "We just go in there and punch the lights out of Locust when it pops up, right? And, I guess maybe talk to Zapp?"

He disapoofs in a flurry of snowy feathers, and with a faint whump reappears behind the pair of tall ponies. "So that's how it works. Huh, that's easier than I thought it would be."

"Yes!" Daff says, managing to get a hold of himself. "Rousseau met a new squirrel friend. And they went on a ~daaaaate~" he sing-songs. "It was very cute! I'm so happy for him! Maybe you can give him some advice. If he wanted to impress a girl. Advice for Rousseau, that is."

Rousseau gives Gaia a look that's both long-suffering and mischievous. Clearly, he hasn't seen fit to let Daff in on the secret.

The squirrel squeak in surprise, scampering to the other side of Daff's head and ending up on his nose as Dove appears with another dramatic explosion of doves just outside the door. The large stallion looks even more impressed when the colt suddenly bamfs behind them.

"That is amazing! Oh, I wonder if they have Rousseau's things, too!" he begins hurrying excitedly to some of the new crates.

"I like Dove's plan! Punching evil very firmly in the head has worked very well for me in the past!" he calls back as he begins digging through the new toys.

Gaia smirks, and squeaks to Rousseau, ~The bet's still on, right? Five wild berries if he doesn't figure it out?~

"Oh, Rousseau's quite the charmer." Gaia says, trotting over and inspecting the loot herself. "He won't have any problems, I don't think. Besides, I think lady squirrels find psychic powers quite fetching."

She rummages around before hoofing a set of large and small gas masks to Daff. "They look nice on your coat." She compliments. "I can work with the little one's plan as well. Sounds as sensible as any, delivering swift justice to Locust's behind."