You are (Not) the Heroes IC

Daff stands outside of the building with the others. Bones of a great, dead beast. Dead eyes of boarded up windows, twisted metal sheets and piles of ruined wood. Walls with more hole than wall.

"At least they won't destroy our hideout anytime soon," he offers optimistically. "And nopony'll ever suspect great heroes will be hiding in here!"

Daff bites into the slightly rusty chains and pulls, stumbling back as the ends immediately snap out of the wood with almost no resistance.

The door is pushed open. Rousseau has woken from his nap to look around at the ancient crates, dust, and single piece of furniture. The squirrel sneezes.

"I think I should bring my welcome mat from home."

Robyn sneezes from cloud of dust accompanying the group's entry.

"Ugh," she coughs. "I think we should start with some spring cleaning."

Once everyone's inside and the doors are closed, Robyn takes off her saddlebag, sets it aside, and proceeds to the nearest crate.

"Starting with these. Whoever used this place last had to have left a broom or vacuum we could use along with his old toys."

Perception check to search the crates: 16+13=29

EDIT: Adding Knowledge check to identify the previous tenant through his abandoned equipment: 9+18=27

Pidgin looks around, feeling perhaps a little disappointed. "I guess this is pretty cool? I mean, Fort Feather's smaller. I guess."

He struggles a little to reach over the crates, but hopping from crate to craft, he begins checking out the contents of the boxes.

Perception: 17 + (10 + 5 + 3) = 35

"'ere's 'ots of room 'ere!" Daff says as he cranes his neck back and pulls on one of the straps, unhitching himself from the ice cream cart, which he parks up against a wall. "Rousseau will have space to practice without destroying the furniture like in our apartment! Rousseau, I'll help with the crates. You take care of the furniture!"

Daff lets Rousseau onto the ground, then energetically goes forward, throwing open lids and peering inside each. Rousseau wanders over to the single chair, kicks it so it isn't leaning against a wall, then sits on top of it and goes back to sleep.

Mechanical Stuff:

While the others got busy with the task of checking up on what supplies and equipment had been left behind by the last super hero team to have used the location, Flaming sighed a little as his head turned towards the door that they had entered from. "Well, I'm going to head to the store to pick up some garbage bags and some cleaning supplies. Anyone against chipping in some money to help pay for it?"

Dice Rolls:

Well I can't remember student, I got barely enough bits to pay for food and rent as is. The Zebra complains when asked for money

"Hmm. It needs work, but the backstage does not need to look pretty, it only needs to do its job." That being said, Madame Mask doesn't step inside to help with the looting. The place is a bit too grubby for the time being...

"I'm not so sure we want to just bag and toss anything found in any superhero or villain's former lair."

Robyn opens another crate, levitates a half-wadded piece of paper from it.

"Some supers communicate using self-destructing explosive stationary."

She unwads the paper, then re-wads it and tosses it away.

"That's not self-destructing explosive stationary. That's a page from a bad fanfic. Just as dangerous."

"The pouch on the left of the cart handle," Daff directs Flaming. "Not the one on the right. Those are ice cream sales, so they go to my boss."

He energetically throws open yet another crate, barely taking the time to look at its contents. He seems to just be having fun opening crates.

"Leave at least 9 bits for the rest of our rent!" he adds. "And 2 more for Rousseau's dinner."

The crates seem to primarily be empty - some have supplies such as canisters of gas fuel and bottled water, while others have tins of food that still look to be before the expiry date. Trapshot uncovers a crate with a small camping stove and some supplies like pots and pans, as well as an electric lamp. The remaining filled crates that Robyn looks through contain general supplies like medical bandages, disinfectant, cleaning supplies, and a mop and broom, as well as other miscellaneous hideout supplies.

In true comic fashion,  Daff pulls out an rubber mallet that’s easily double the size of the small box he found it in, and discovers that it squeaks on impact.

Dove Colt, meanwhile, finds a veritable vault of superhero goodies - he finds an antique looking wooden case that holds, incredibly, a bow, which looks to be made from metal. The back of the bow is etched with various runes, and the coiled wire bowstring is also covered all across in magical symbols. When it’s touched, the symbol glow purple - which is neatly complimented by the purple cloth mask. Another little box reveals a pack of custom playing cards with a dragon theme, and finally, hiding behind a pile of cloths, a small, custom radio that seems to be upgraded enough to function in the deep of space.

From what Trapshot knows, the equipment seems to correspond to a legendary trio of heroes known only as the Performers - entertainers by day AND night, who use the implements of their performances as weapons of justice in their off time. The trio dissolved sometime before the emergence of the Power Ponies - they're almost urban legends, at this point. However, the gap between their disbanding and the current time period makes it unlikely for the group to have owned the hideout.

Flaming Cuisine is aware of a general store down the street that actually he has a friend working at, and is almost certain the friend would part with her stock for a generous discount.

"Uhm, hang on..." Dove Colt pokes his head out of one of the crates, brushing away the foam peanuts stuck to his mane and fishes a few bits out of his hoodie pockets. "I've only got a little left from my allowance, but if you need it...

Diving back into the box, he brings out the haul, staring at them in awe. "Guys, I think I found something! It's, uh... a bow? and some playing cards, and - oh! A radio!"

He tries to flip the radio on, before turning back to inspect the items. "Who do you figure owned these?"

"It might not be as much as you think; We're actually not that far away from a friend of mine who might be willing to give me a discount..." Flaming began before his attention was drawn to the discover of some of the former owner's stuff. Walking over in order to have a look at it himself, he couldn't help but whistle a little in appreciation. "This isn't a bad hull in the slightest. Anyone have the ability to use any of it?" In truth it was a serious question; No matter how good the equipment is, if you didn't know how to use it all you had in your hooves was a fancy piece of loot for whomever took you out.

Walking over to Daff's icecream cart, Flaming looked through the pouch on the left side of the cart before removing a handful of bits while making sure to count them out to ensure that he knew how much he was borrowing; The odds were good that this was the money he had spent making the desserts earlier anyway, but it was respectful to know just how much money he might owe Daff down the line. "Even if we don't use the garbage bags to clean this place up now, having a few on hoof for future messes since we're moving in here wouldn't be a bad idea. Any requests from the store while I'm there?" He called out, letting everyone say their piece before he left.

Robyn levitates the broon and cleaning supplies she found out of the crate and holds them up in triumph.

"Bam! Money saved!"

She sets the cleaning supplies on the chair with Rousseau, but keeps the broom.

"I'll sweep."

She tilts her head a little at Dove Colt's discovery.

"That all looks like the Performers' gear. My dad claimed to known them when he was the Calamity Bandit. Not sure how much of what he said on that was embellishment, but that's how he described the stuff they used." She keeps her attention on sweeping, but her ears twitch. "As I recall, they disbanded quite some time ago, long before this place was vacated. Might be good to look into that, once we're done with housekeeping here."

A grin spreads across Daff's face.

SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK!

The stallion's muffled laughter fills the room as he goes around happily hitting everything in sight. Rousseau opens one eye, woken from his slumber, only to find himself in the middle of a forest of cleaning supplies. He gives Daff a look.

"Oh, sorry." The stallion looks abashed and attempts to put the mallet back in the box it'd come from. It doesn't remotely fit. He decides to keep it instead and wanders over, reaching over the cleaning supplies to scoop Rousseau up. The squirrel finds his usual place on Rousseau's head.

"But now that you are awake, we can clean this place many times faster with your help!" he declares as he energetically begins picking up larger bits of refuse and dropping them in one of the empty boxes. Rousseau curls up again, sleepily, in response.

"Bows are really hard to use without ground stands like in the Equestrian Games. I bet that belonged to a unicorn! Why would somepony put all these Performers' stuff here after they disbanded? And how did anypony get all their stuff?" he wonders.

The remaining mop has since made its way to Daff on its own and is now moving around the earth pony like something out of Fantasia, mopping at the areas that Trapshot had already swept, leaving behind trails of damp floor.

Mechanical Stuff:

"Who knows?"

Robyn pulls the bow over to for a look while the broom continues to sweep.

"My guess is a copycat. It's obviously enchanted, so probably an apprentice or sidekick to the original. Similar to me and the Bandit, only less complicated."

She aims the bow at an empty crate, away from everyone else, and uses her telekinesis to pull back and release the bowstring, the whole time observing how the runes react to her manipulations. She's not educated enough in the arcane to decipher them, but based on her experimentation (Perception: 5+13=18) and what she knows of this Performer's signature style (Knowledge: 1+18=19), she chances a guess.

"I wonder if I have any copycats," ponders Madame Mask from outside. She then looks in and calls out "Oh Bird Boy? Tell me, are you a fan of my work? I saw that little top hat earlier, did you see moi as your muse?"

"You're Madame Mask," Dove Colt says, hopping up onto a crate so he can look her in the eyes without craning his head. "My encyclopedia says you're a reformed villain - I thought that was cool because the villains can be kinda cool too, sometimes."

He pauses for a moment. "Thwp." He flicks a random card from the deck at Mask.

The radio crackles softly as Dove Colt fiddles with it, and after a few moments, the voice of famous classical singer Soprano filters through, the voice impossibly clear and real given that it is being played through a radio.

The bow pulls back slightly, and the runes begin to glow - prompting Trapshot to pull back a little further, and the runes glow even brighter, and she draws the bow to full draw, and a glowing, magical arrow materializes, already nocked, in a shower of sparks. Surprised, Trapshot lets go, the crackling magical bolt flies forward - and the bow flies backward, snapping back from the force, and the bowstring snaps in half, releasing a few sad sparks before the glow fades away entirely. The bolt appears to have embedded itself halfway into the concrete wall before dissipating.

The card spirals towards Madame Mask, and just as its edge would touch her, she feels a blunt impact, its strength comparable to a quick jabbing punch, perhaps, and the card dissipates - though before it does it can be seen that the card thrown at Mask is a 3 of Clubs.

Robyn looks at the broken bow, and then at the energy bolt stuck in the wall.

"That's why I'm a gunner," she sighs as she sets the weapon aside. "Still, mystery solved."

She thinks back to anyone she met in the last month that might know how to restore it; in the hooves of a more skilled archer, it might prove useful. Or worth some bits to a collector. (Knowledge: 13 + 18 = 31)

As she goes back to sweeping, she keeps an eye on Mask's reaction to Colt throwing the playing card at her.

"Ow!" The noise is sharp but only a bit painful. Still, Madame Mask rubs the sore area and looks up to the group annoyed. "Okay, anypony who doesn't know anything about the things they found, drop it!" She then begins to levitate objects towards her (like the now ruined bow, the deck of cards if Dove drops it, and the mallet if Daff drops it) and starts inspecting them...

(Arcana Check: 9 / (18) (Roll / Destiny Reroll) + 18 (Skill) + 10 (Destiny) = 46)

While the rest of the group searched the crates and tried out what they found, Zellbriq stood of to the side, trying not to get involved in those hijinks, but when the arrow gest stuck in the wall, the Zebra decides to speak up:yeah as the lady said, don´t use it if it isn´t yours or somethign like this he points to the wall with the arrow could happen to one of us.

Daff freezes, looking surprised at the dissipating arrow that leaves behind a big hole in the concrete, then the vanishing card. The mop freezes in place as well. Rousseau opens one eye curiously.

"Whoa," he breathes. Coolest. Base. Ever. The earth pony looks about ready to protest (he was the one who found the mallet, after all!), but then he looks back at Rousseau, sighs, then allows Madame Mask to float his new-found toy away.

"Eep!" Dove Colt hops back in surprise, the cards falling out of his hooves. "I didn't mean to- sorry!"

Flaming just looked at the rest of the superhero team. He didn't say anything because his deadpan expression said it all for him. It was amazing how easy it was to get his face to say You bring shame on your families and I am ashamed to be seen with you right now.

Still, the discovery of some cleaning supplies at least saved him a trip. Returning the bits that he had borrowed from the ice cream cart, Flaming sighed as he walked over to look through what cleaning supplies they had and just what needed to be done in order to get this base in tip top shape!

Dice rolls:

"Alright."

Robyn kicks one of the largest crates to the center of the warehouse.

"New rule. If we find anything here that might be a weapon, it goes in the box. Nopony touches anything in the box."

She breathes a sigh, and retrieves her shotgun from her saddlebag.

"Second new rule," she continues, "We will practice weapons safety at all times from now on. Notice how my weapon is pointed up, away from everypony else. I am treating this gun as if it were loaded with lethal rounds and the safety were off, even if I know the opposite to be true. I am not playing with it or pointing it toward anypony I don't want dead or on the ground. This is how we all handle every weapon, every time, no matter what."

With that said, she puts the gun back in her saddlebag.

"Somepony take the broom. I'll see if there's anything here to patch that wall."

(Perception: 10 + 13 = 23)