UrbanSamurai

Rampart's came around to their delayed introduction as Press finished sketching his new surroundings while Lucky kept trying to strike a stubborn match. "Sonova'..." Magna's inquiry takes Press's eyes off of his beloved notebook long enough to think of an answer, "Detective Prezbuluski - We're the Curbstomp Detatchment, R-21. Central is having us link up with your detachment to make a proper Division." Press squints at Magna in the same way an explorer looks at an odd indent in an otherwise plain wall deep within a ruins. He resumes sketching. Lucky takes a hit of the Stripes and places his right hand in his pocket, walking closer to the rest of the heroes in the division. "I sure hope thems' all can fight, because they sure as hell can't dress. Who wants to bet on how long it'll take before we see the first Azteca with an all-right tailor?"

As radiance and kinetic energy smite and rebound across the battlefield, Magnum shovels handfuls of Cracker Jack into his gullet. "I never get tired of this stuff you know," he says wiping molasses coated caramel off of the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. "They say it was the first junk food ever invented, and could've been the last! Perfect for every event: football game, parade, 4th of July, coronation, or just going out to the movies. Hey bus, do we got any more of this stuff?" Magnum enthusiastically rattles the nearly empty bag. "Darlin'...I'd redirect your attention to the wrasslin'." Magnum turns his gaze back to the external battle. Edmond fires a searing band of molten metal into Cú Chulainn's center, the steaming metal warping around his ribcage and embedding itself into his flesh. Almost simultaneously a barrage of glowing bullets splashes the Dog's chest, popping off like firecrackers and uniting into one conflagration across his breasts. As Cú is lit alight, tremendous texts rain down from the sky above to pelt him like stone. Copies of Venmarasu and Min Kamp impact his figure along with tales of unknown tongue. Navin darts through the open space and extends his fingers, swirling with intense tangible energy, until they come into direct contact with this perversion of Irish lore. The result is an explosion that sends him back several feet through a cloud of smoke. Silef bursts through the smoke blade-first, impaling Cú straight through the chest with a follow-through of a solid wall of blinding light that encases him and propels him further backwards, off of his feet. Cú hits the ground with his spear lying several yards away, blood streaming from the cavities in his torso, the iconic malevolent armor coming apart at the scenes. Yet, he is able to stand once more, beleaguered but alive. "Cú Chulainn has suffered tremendous but non-lethal trauma. Given enough time he could recuperate, or unfurl an all-out desperation maneuver. Your allies have expended themselves for the moment and are temporarily vulnerable." "So what you're telling me is that I need to stop all the hooping and hollering and get in there with some proactive tactics? Get back in on the action? Hah, you know how to beat around the bush. Reminds me of my wife." "It's only my protocol, I can only advise after all." Magnum chucks the empty snack bag to the ground. "Let's get it done with then. Release top gear." "Affirmative." "Remove safety parameters." "Parameters offline." "Fightin' music." "Yee-haw." Boomtown slams his foot down on the accelerator, sending the BOOMTOWN EXPRESS whirling by at speeds unprecedented by anything Recreational Vehicles had seen previously; sonic clouds form on its exterior as all 8 wheels crack the earth like rotating jackhammers. The impact catches Cú dead center with the engine, culminating with a sound like thunder. And yet he stands. The legend presses his head against the front of the bus, resisting it with a forehead teeming with a deep open cut. His feet grind into the ground until his heels dig craters. His fingers claw into the EXPRESS's cab corners, puncturing the metallic exterior of the bus like nails into flesh, establishing a grip, creating sumo match of brawn against industry. The interior of the bus rattles. "You're a tough one, kid!" Magnum explains as he pushes the acceleration pedal to the floor, one hand jammed on the steering wheel as his other palm strains the gear stick to its limitations, nearly ripping it out of place. Cú and the bus both groan in exhausted agony, two rams locking horns in a final dance. The lights inside the bus begin to flicker. "Systems failing. Blowout imminent." "Damnit!" Sweat pours from Magnum's brow as he pushes his automobile past its edge. "Now you've made me do it you Scottish bastard! No one breaks my bus!!!" Magnum opens up a hidden panel right above the radio containing three knobs and a single button. "So what, you're all the legends of the big bad Coo-Koo Lane come to life? What's that make you think, you're a half-God? Savior of Ulster?" He presses the first knob. The headlights begin to flash erratically. "And that gives you some sort of right to do what you want, because you're the big kid on the playground? You're nothing but a phony, a big fat phony. You can't be born or created as a God. Godhood is earned." Second knob. A pair of metal wings spring from convert openings on the bus's side. "I've coached plenty of guys who had talents from the Gods and nothing else, and you know how many of their names I remember? Not a damn one. The Raiders are built from sweat and tears. So is my country." Third knob. The exhaust spews long streams of bright blue fire that sear the air like a metal dragon. "This move right here? It's Pittsburgh Steel and Green Bay Nitrus combined with Seattle Aerodynamics and San Diego Physics. This right here..." Magnum slams the button. "Liftoff achieved." "...this is America." The bus begins to orientate itself vertically with Chulainn still attached to the hood. The cone of blue flame from the exhaust expands, throwing dirt and debris into a spreading cloud of smoke. The bus shoots upwards into the sky, rattling the surrounding area like an earthquake as it blasts off at hundreds of miles an hour. It climbs through the atmosphere until it is only visible as a speck of flame in the sky. Then an explosion, a concoction of bright firework colors that paints the twilight. Chulainn's seared, limp body hits the ground a minute later. He clings to life, barely. Promptly, the BOOMTOWN EXPRESS falls out of the sky, its rear tires landing directly on the Scottish Dog's legs. Outside of some obvious burns, it looks no worse for wear. A bruised, soot-faced Boomtown Magnum stumbles out of the bus. He coughs. "The academics call that a 'Coop De Grass'."

Magnum Rams Cu with the BOOMTOWN EXPRESS.

Magnum yells into the speakers, "We need to close off all avenues for escape! I want every flank covered, our whole line is going to push forward into his pocket! He can't block everyone! Morale is low! Bludgeon bludgeon bludgeon!" Blitzkreig on Cu.

Magnum begins to wave a massive cardboard sign with the letter 2 on it in thick red market. "Two minute warning! Lets go lets go lets go!" Hustle Play on Hikari.

Magnum now turns his attention to someone new. "Hey big guy! You! You with the fire! I want a Light Strong Fold Pierre-Mond 18!" Hustle Play on Silef.

Magnum drives up next to Hikari, throws open his door and throws a bucket of ice water in face. "Move move move! Defense defense defense! Alpha 9309 Quad Sliding Route!" Magnum uses Hustle Play on Hikari.

Magnum angrily waves his fist at the Beats through his window as their fangs rip through the exterior armor of his bus. "Get out of here you tramps! Scram!" He turns to Cu, making a big elaborate point of charging up something of great power. "You know, a good fighter doesn't project what they're going to do next, that's part of Rules 101. Unless, they're that good, but this guy ain't no Mo Bobana, sheesh." He points a stubby finger at Sachi, "Hey you there! This guy is going to unleash something big, so you need to prepare for it so you can make a play! If you see him make a move, I want you to run a Forward Leopard Banana Split 74!" Magnum uses Interception on Sachi.

"Woah, this guy's a hitter!" Magnum holds the steering wheel tightly as Cu slams into the side of the vehicle, causing it to rock. He speaks to his team over the external speakers, "I've got a reading on the big guy! Turns out that he's got a weakness to curses, so if any of you can put a hex or something like that on him right away, we can swing the outcome!" Magnum drove the BOOMTOWN EXPRESS over to Hikari and opened up the door and waved her closer. "Dragon girl, over here!" As she closes in, Magnum takes a plastic bottle containing a purple liquid out from a nearby cooler. "Drink up!" Whether she's ready or not, Magnum splashes Hikari's mouth full of the liquid. Immediately she would sense the stimulants inside, heightening whatever adrenaline and focus she was pumping throughout her cells. "You're healing people right? That's good, you can fight a battle without healing. No way you can fight if you're too hurt, right? Here's the plan: I want you to get out there and heal more than you've ever healed in your damn life, and heal some more. The Berserker, he doesn't want you to heal, and that's how you're really going to hurt him. He can't win if all of us stay on our feet. Now get out there and keep everyone alive, I want you to put Florence Nightingale to shame!" With one enthusiastic slap on the rump, Magnum propels the reinvigorated Hikari out into the battlefield. Magnum uses Hustle Play on Hikari, granting her an additional Action next turn.

Magnum parks the BOOMTOWN EXPRESS directly in front of The Berserker. "Wow, this is one angry fella' isn't he? You know, if he wanted to put all that rage into something productive, I could find a spot for him. I've done it before, plucked kids off the street when everyone else counted that out. But I guess it's too late for that, isn't it?" He speaks into the external speaker, "Hey big guy, Mister Cu Coolathan Junior, I know you've had a rough time and that's put you in the position that you are in now, but if anyway else doesn't believe you, you should know that I believe you! We can still talk about this, I know some people in the business who can help you out. Just think about it okay?" Magnum reclines back into his driver's seat. "....Yeah, not going to work. Time to bring out the ole' Telestrator." Magnum fishes around in his rear pockets for a second and pulls out a white device similar to the remotes used on Smartboards. "Let's see what this guy's all about!" He points it at the Berserker and the area around the target begins to fill with hundreds white X's and O's, symbols, formulas and strings of words. Letters and numbers appear and disappear far faster than the human eye could come up with, and gradually some of these loose chains begin to form into bigger, more coherent lines. "I think I'm getting somewhere, there's hole in the pantry door!"

"Howdy folks, the name's Magnum, Magnum BOOOOOMTOWN. Former Head Coach of the Abyssal Black Hole, the mighty mighty Oakland Raiders. 5 Time World Champion! Also former National Announcer. Doesn't look like we have many Americans around here to appreciate all that, so I'll cut straight to the meat of it." "I've spent a stretch around this Multiverse and ours and I think I've picked up a thing or two. I'm not going to be out on the field with you youngins, but I will do everything to support you from the sidelines. I'll help for a strategy and coordinate it so that we work as a cohesive unit, supporting each other instead of a bunch of freelancers trying to do this and that with no clear plan. If you need a boost, I've got plenty of Beaver-Aid as well, and if you haven't had any of it let me tell you, this stuff has some serious kick! You'll feel like you have double energy, at least for a little bit. You all are welcome in the BOOMTOWN EXPRESS as long as you promise not to smudge the flat screen."

"That's me boy, and man am I ready for some Sunday Night action!" Magnum offers a handshake with his large, calloused right hand, weathered from years of labor. "Eddy, right? I heard that name pop up around you. Lots of names floating around aren't there? Feels like a new job all.over again, I suppose this is a new job. You know, back on the Raiders it was hard to keep track of all the names. The old boys and the stars, everyone knows their names, even Joe Schmo on the street would know them. But there's all the normal guys, all the coaches, assistants, the front office, cheerleaders, ball boys, water girls, staff...it's enough toake your head spin like a category 5 twister! That's why I gave everyone a nickname, like Fatty Slim, or Metamorphosis Tony." "We're up against a fella by the name of Berserker? If he's anything like the Viking Berskers I know, he'll have some weakpoints right out in the open. Those Berserkers, always trying to make up for defensive holes with an unstoppable offenses. But Defense wins championships."

Isobel's directive is peppered with the sound of sizzling meat. "Sounds like we're thirty minutes from Houston. Alright boys, chow time is over! You eat so you can work ya' know." Magnum kicks the side of the mechanical grill and it folds in on itself, collapsing into the frisbee-shaped lid it started out as. He chucks all of his improv-barbeque setup down into the van, "Who needs a lift in the Boomtown Express?"

UNIT DOSSIER #0492

Magnum leaps out of his lawn chair and spins around in his best karate fighting pose when Atton taps on the back. "Oh! Didn't hear you coming up, usually I can tell by the clang-clang up the ladder." He calms down, sinking back into his seat and considers the requests. "I try not to carry around too many things that go boom inside the van. Hit a speed bump the wrong way and you're looking at another week at the Shop, not to mention the bill." Magnum leans in real close towards Atton, guardedly whispering, "If you ask me, some of these auto repair guys are grubby pocketpinchers, and think they can play you for a clutz just because you didn't go to some car school." Magnum reclines, still visibly perturbed by the idea of dishonest automobile mechanics. And then he jumps up. "Scissors, you need scissors! 61! Hey now hey now hey now." He races down into the belly of his RV and returns to the roof within a minute with a moderately sized brown cardboard box. He opens it, revealing a messy inventory of office supply. "This is where I keep some of the old junk, broken staplers and rusted scissors, that sort of thing. I was going to throw it out yesterday, but I must've forgot. Take whatever you want, you should actually just take the whole darn thing." Magnum sees Friedhold exiting the courtyard out of the corner of his eye and yells after him, "Are you sure? You don't want to miss out on these dogs! The way they're going, there won't be any by the time you get back!"

Magnum scratched his head as Navin explains his religious aversion to the devil's drink. "Facilities? Huh, never had a problem with any of my facilities after drinking. The training facility, locker facility, they were all fine after a few beers. Of course, there was the Loco Forte Big Baller incident, but looking back on it now it's pretty funny. It wasn't funny at the time, but it sure is now, hehe." He put his thumb and index finger around his rather massive chin, reflecting on that time. "I'm not going to force you to drink kid, that's not the American way. Willy Russel was a fantastic Quarterback, and never took a sip. He was a real squeaky clean good-two-shoes type, the kind of guy who would pray for you and your dog." Magnum resumed the "normal" distribution of food and drink to the soldiers, keeping tags on the couple that were able to make some spectacular grabs. He was less impressed with the magicians taking the food for themselves however, "Hey hocus-pocus jokers! You have to work if you want to grub with Magnum. Either compete properly or go back to eating magic gumberries and kale."

"Lacoctogenarian? But you don't even look that old!" Magnum chuckled at Navin's obscure term, though clearly not at the expense of the younger man, Magnum was merely entertaining himself by his silly joke, or what was the attempt at a joke. "I know a lot of Hindus, no beef huh? But that curry is something else! Tell ya' what, you can skip on the barbecue, but do you really want to miss out on an ice cold bottle-pop of Budweiser? It gets you right in the gut, kapow! And it's all just bubbles and hops. Hops, that's some kind of flower isn't it? Ask my wife. Anyways, you won't be going wrong if you're Vegetarian, Pescetarian or Unitarian!" "Bacon? You think Rich Magnum has a Barbecue without bacon? Watch this sonny!" Wielding an ad hoc spatula, Magnum puts a platter of bacon meat down onto a plastic plate with a single 'flick a da wriss'. "Catch!" He sends the plate spinning through the air at Atton, travelling like a frisbee. "And they keep on coming, just like the old cookouts back home," Magnum remarks to himself as the huddled masses of soldiers surround the van. "Have to make good on that promise then. Alright boys, eat up!" With the urgency of a sitcom character paying homage to that conveyor belt scene in I Love Lucy, Magnum whips up plates-on-plates of meaty concoctions ranging from your humble cheeseburger to the regal pulled pork sandwich with coleslaw. Instead of distributing food and drink in an orderly and organized fashion, Magnum becomes throwing consumables into the famished crowd like candy from a Birthday pinata or the bouquet at a wedding. "Come on now, you gotta' work for it! Let's see if any of you could be a good Receiver!"

Magnum cups his hands around his eyes, mimicking a set of binoculars, and surveys the courtyard scene. The castle legion stands alert as the enemy bombard the exterior walls. His Teammates they mingle with one another, chat with the castle faculty, violate the Geneva Convention. The RV's A.I. voice pipes up, "Darlin', why didn't you up and volunteer to be one of 'em to speak with that fancy lady? Strategy is your calling after all, you could've added something real nice with your experience." Magnum squints his eyes, further focusing on the view outside of the van, yet he finds the facial coordination to simultaneously burst into one of his rosy smiles. "Now, you should know me better than that by now. How long have we been on the road together? Long enough, yes. I have a few years under my belt, but each of these adventures makes me feel like a rook again. And you know what a rook does? He watches, observes, learns from the big dogs. Can't stir up a fried egg if you ignore the chef! Some of these folk, I think they have a grasp on whatever's going on right now, a better grasp than I do. I'll follow the leaders and move where I'm supposed to move, do what I'm supposed to do. I was a coordinator and assistant for a good while before I was a coach or broadcaster, and it did me well to live and learn. I can certainly wait for this." "That sounds mighty fine when you put it like that, Richie. So what will you do now?" "You gotta' do what you gotta' do, and for now that's building foundations with the Team, and getting along with the locals. I'm getting out the Meet-and-Greet stuff; Polly, you play some Lynyrd Skynyrd on the external speakers." The Boomtown Express vibrates with snare hits and bass rifts as Magnum opens up a hatch giving him access to the roof of the vehicle. Climbing up a set of stairs, he comes into full view hoisting a folding chair, a blue cooler and a red ovular object under his arms; each of the devices is then placed onto the roof, still trembling with the gritty vocals of Johnny Van Zant. The red object sprouts a pair of diagonally perpendicular legs that raise it into the air. Magnum removes the top half of the oval to reveal three levels of metal grates above burning embers, each level containing a different kind of meat. Twin slots eject from the sides of the barbecue grill, boasting organized sections of breads and condiments. Magnum bangs his fist on the top of the cooler and it pops open, a treasure chest of various alcoholic delicacies swimming in ice. With this 4th of July setup finalized, Magnum sits in the folding chair, groaning as his old bones sink into the polyester fabric. He waves enthusiastically at everyone standing in the proximity of the Boomtown Express. "Come on, there's enough to go around! Can't break a siege on an empty stomach!"

In the midst of conversation, another vehicle rumbles into the roadside stop adjacent to the ruins. The Boomtown Express comes to a screeching halt next to the other vehicles whose occupants would hear the thumping lyrics of the Marshall Tucker band being blasted at full volume from the van's subwoofers.

Boomtown uses Evasive Manuevers (Basic Defensive Action) and does his best to stay out of the fighting.

A large glowing circle begins to encompass the area around the pink mist. It's less of a circle, more like a general circle-like shape as part of it intersects with the mist, and other parts are too wide. "The secret lies in the mist!" Boomtown (somehow) Telestrates the mysterious pink mist to uncover more about it. (INT VS. INT)

"Looks like trouble's afoot! We've got a surprise 'bout on our hands!" The BOOMTOWN EXPRESS materializes directly adjacent to Magnum, and he rushes inside the vehicle, barricading himself behind its augmented metal exterior. Through the projectile-proof front window, Magnum looks at the oncoming enemy forces. "Hey now, the hordes are at the gate! We're in for a primetime matchup right here, right now! I'm your host, Boomtown Magnum, and it's time to PLAY BALL!" Streams of light pour out from the front of the bus, encircling one of the dragons without harming it, or even constraining its movements. "Watch closely, and you'll start to see what sort of moves the lizards are bringing to the table." Magnum uses Telestration on Dragon Tooth Warrior D. [1d20 + INT VS. OPP. 1d20 + INT]

"You don't know my name? Well shoot, ain't that a humbler. Name's Rich. Rich BOOOOOOOOMTOWN Magnum. Five time world Champion courtesy of Oakland, California. Any Oaklanders here? No? Okay then." He twists his torso towards the half-dragon. "Yamaguchi Masaru, that's a Japanese name if I ever heard one. Japan, now that's a country. Great people. Great food. Great technology. Some of the best receivers in the league coming out of Japan. And my grandson, let me tell you, he loves Jungoki and all of Jungoki's little pals." Boomtown uprights himself and looks around. "So we're in a castle, I'll agree with you there, because this looks like a castle. The high ceilings, the big spacious walls. This spot right here, the Ballroom, with the spacing of the tables and the open space. If you stick around long enough you'll see Emma Watson running through here with a dress, haha." "Yamaguchi, you say you're a Lineman, someone at the front of the battle whose not afraid of the Hell and the Highwater. Being a Lineman is a very courageous position, I should know. I have to correct you on one thing, because you said if our opponents were here, that no amount of planning would save us. Planning will always save the day. Let me show you something." He reaches into his jacket's pocket and pulls out what resembles a thick pen without any tip. Rich points it at the nearest wall, and on the surface of the wall in solid white lines, a Circle appears. "That's you, on a Rygon Cruiser in the third quadrant when you're intercepted by a row of 4 Anaconda Battleships in front of you, and a whole fleet of Tempest Pursuers to your backside." The Anacondas are represented by four large X's and the Pursuers are more abstract, consisting of a large scribbled space. "Your Cruiser is at 34% Power and the Ion Cannon is dysfunctional. A hopeless situation, right? 'No amount of planning would get us out of this one.' But look!" The circle moves westward on the wall, with the other geometries following close behind, hundreds of small lines emanating from them to represent their artillery fire. Then there's a ripple, a moving wave of motion that breaks the X's and scribbles into tiny pieces while the Circle remains unharmed. "Those military ships couldn't handle the pressure of a nebular implosion, and then they just fwoosh! Pop! But the Cruiser, I'll tell you, the Rygon's were built for that kind of interstellar hammering. That right there is how you escape a 1-1 million disadvantage. At the end of the day, the odds are't God, the odds are just Vegas. And who can trust Vegas? Nobody. Ask my wife."

Magnum catches the returning football. "That's a decent spiral kid, did you ever play in one of those women's leagues?" At the behest of no one, Magnum moves closer into the circle of people and bends over at his hips, ducking his head down as to remain unseen, as if he suspected them of being spied upon. He transitions from booming oration to being barely louder than a whisper. "What's the current plan? How are we going to get these Trespassers? Let's start with names. You know me, so let's go around and all introduce ourselves and our positions."

A swirling vortex, about the size of a tunnel entrance, appears in the center of the ballroom. Crackling bolts of energy fly off the perimeter of the vortex, creating a phantasmagorical display of lights. From within the spectacle comes the sound of a loud automobile horn, increasing in volume with every passing second. Then the vortex spews out an entire tour bus, skidding onto the floor of the ballroom and perform several circular 'donuts' in the center of the area, knocking over the occasional table, chair and other furniture miscellany. After about a half-dozen rotations, the bus comes to a stop, rows of tire tracks marking the floor. The bus's exterior is nothing special; a white foundation with two sets of horizontal blue stripes going around the body of the vehicle, and the words "BOOMTOWN EXPRESS" written on each side in Impact-front. A robotic female voice with a Bible-Belt twang emanates from the inside of the bus. "You've arrived at your destination, sugar~ <3" The door at the front of the bus folds open and down the tiled steps hobbles an old man, with a large build for a regular human. His outfit is in the classic Black Tie tradition, as if he were expecting an actually ballroom event to be taking place. As soon as he sees the other occupants of the room, his flabby, worn face turns pink and produces a smile, a twinkling in his eyes like a child on Christmas morning, even if he looked more the part of Saint Nick. He places his hands on his hips. " The '87 AFC Championship. My Oakland Raiders versus the Pittsburgh Steelers. Cold as all hell, I was standing on the sidelines, shivering like a bat out of the freezer. The Steelers came out, and let me tell you, they came out fierce. You know why they're called the Steelers? Because they know Steel better than anyone. They were wearing this Power Armor, and so every time my guys ran into their guys, it was like plunk, ploot. No way we were getting through, it was like your dog in a Chinese finger trap. My offensive coordinator, Two-Ton Tony, pulls me to the side. And this guy, Two-Ton Tony, he was a real little guy, how does he get a name like that? My wife thought it was stupid. Two-Tony Tony pulls me aside and says we have to go for the pass. I say to run it, and he gives me this really bug-eyed look. 'Run? We've been running the whole game and it hasn't worked a single time!' I told him to run the ball. And the next play, those boys ran the ball. Jimmy 'Canada' Boltrik took the ball and started running, he started jumping on the Steelers heads, you couldn't make it up! He was hopping helmet to helmet like the video game my grandson plays where the little Mexican plumber jumps on all the turtles. Boing! Boltrik was in the endzone, touchdown! We lost 10-38. But it goes to show you, sometimes when you want to run, you got to pass, but then when you want to pass, you've got to run. That's what the game is all about. If you want to win, you have to score. And if we're going to score, let's go out and win, and save the whoooole Multiverse. Whose with me?" The old man stands up, pulls out an Ad Hoc football and throws it down the length of the Ballroom. It bounces off a wall. "Haha, I've still got the cannon! Moe Botano would be proud..."