9/18/2006 Otto ------------------------------------------------------------------ The infamous Doctor Otto Octavius is a heavyset man in his mid-forties, and though far from the most handsome man in the world (and, at five-foot-nine, definitely not the tallest), he cuts a surprisingly dashing figure when dressed in a white Armani suit. The tailored garments fit perfectly and sport special openings for his tentacles in the sides of the crisp white jacket and black dress shirt. The white trousers are neatly pressed, the black dress shoes shined, and the white necktie perfectly knotted. When necessary to hide his extra limbs, Otto also possesses an ankle-length white trenchcoat with a black silk lining along with a white fedora with a black brim. Otto's four tentacles -- two to a side -- are made of gleaming adamantium. From a minimum length of six feet, they can extend to a maximum of twenty-four feet and are each equipped with a trio of pincer-like manipulators. The doctor's broad face is hard, set into lines of determination and obsession; his smiles often have a gritted, tooth-clenching quality, and his grins have a nefarious edge. His brown eyes are hidden behind dark glasses, and his straight brown hair is cropped into an short bowl cut. ------------------------------------------------------------------ Upon arriving at the address that Doctor Octopus indicated, those who would join the tentacled terror in his latest scheme are met by well-armed henchmen, their SWAT-like tactical gear (a purple so dark it's almost black) partially hidden under long coats. No mere thugs, these, but professional-looking men with a military bearing. A mere handful, they escort the would-be co-conspirators into an alleyway between two equally anonymous warehouses and, from there, into an ingeniously hidden freight elevator. From there, downwards for several long moments; Ock's men offer no comment and answer no questions. The freight elevator, when it comes to a halt, opens its doors into a massive, gleaming, high-tech headquarters; the atomosphere is one of well-orchestrated activity, and more of the uniformed minions are in evidence, both soldiers and technical types. Portrait of an Octopus in full Master Planner mode. And speaking of which, there's the man himself, standing behind a circular table-like object that's set on an elevated section of the floor -- a spot that provides him an excellent vantage of the entire area. Dr. Octavius is dressed to kill in the tailored, spotless white Armani suit; his eyes are completely hidden behind dark glasses. Otto Octavius gives a nefarious smile at the sight of the group. "Excellent. And right on time..." He pauses, then smirks. "Most of you." With a gesture, the mastermind beckons to join him on the elevated platform as his "employees" go back to their posts with nary a pause in their activity. [OOC] Coil says, "http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v481/lunarwhirlwind/coild2.jpg See desc and this for the curious." [OOC] Coil says, "http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v481/lunarwhirlwind/coil.jpg Please excuse the unfinished of these both" Ock is not the only one dressed to kill in a white suit; though the makeup of this suit is far less flimsy, though no less designer. Calie Anderson dons her armor for the first time for this most special occasion. The girl's massive feet sway along with fluidity and quiet that does not befit an armor of that size. jointed Metal Tendrils sway at the suits back with each stride. Calie steps up on the platform and inclines her visored head. "Doctor..." she states politely though she doesn't move her mouth. The vocals are distorted to ruin voice recognition, and seem to come from the suit itself. "I present myself as 'Coil' this evening." Red_Lotus stands when Octavius enters, her red and black flowing saree falling gracefully to the floor as she does so, her hair is held back into a tight bun with two long obsidian hair pins. "Doctor," she says in greeting, her voice lightly tinted with a british accent, although she is clearly not English. Coil ------------------------------------------------------------------ Light glints off smooth metallic surfaces; the one called Coil is clad in a heavy looking mechanical armor standing 7 feet tall. A reflective black visor obscures all but the wearer's nose, mouth, and chin. Rounded receptors cover the ears with a short protruding antennae on one side. Long brown hair is pulled in a high pony tail atop the head that seems to held in place by a supportive plate that covers the back of the head and anchors to neck supports that look a good deal like external vertebrae made of polished metal. The body of the armor is heavily plated and colored primarily gloss white with some accents that color-shift between iridescent pastel blue and purple, and some that retain the sheen of polished metal. Nowhere is the sheer of metal more prevalent than the back of the armor. Two long snaking metal tendrils fall from the back of the shoulder and tumble down the calves of the armor; the end of each holding a tube like apparatus from which the tip of something very sharp protrudes. Carefully constructed Triangular spikes of metal protrude from beneath these lancets on her back in two rows getting progressively smaller and closer together toward the base of the spine where they come together in one spike. The arms of the armor are well longer than those of the wearer, lower arms covered in large gauntlets with many panels of different configurations shapes and sizes on them. A dubious looking raised hole on the back of each 'forearm' and vicious looking claws are the only things symmetrical. It's long legs taper down into broad feet that appear to have lots of stability and mobility by design. ((If you can scan the exoskeleton and wish to know more about it's capabilities please page me )) ------------------------------------------------------------------ Red_Lotus ------------------------------------------------------------------ Even with most of her face covered by a veil, this woman is the epitome of beauty. Her voice, her body, her face, her walk, everything. her jet black hair is pulled back into a bun, which is held together with two long black hair sticks, her eyes are light brown and her skin a deep tan. She wears a red sleeveless, torso-exposing top, a red free-flowing skirt and a black, gold-trimmed sari, in a rather untraditional manner, hanging off her right shoulder and sweeping downward to attach to the left side of her skirt at the waist. The sari, also free-flowing, hangs down to mid-calf on her, covering her right arm entirely. Her shoes are simply a piece of leather attached to her feet with long, leather strings that wrap around her leg to the knee. The veil is also black and gold, and covers her facial features below her eyes. ------------------------------------------------------------------ The Anachronism arrives in his usual attire. No effort has been made for this occasion, but this clockwork man has never been one to care for appearances. He runs at low power, a few traces of smoke wafting from the blackened smokestack. This is perhaps for the benefit of others here, as this is taking place in a contained environment. The hissing of steam and clanking of pistons and gears heralds the Anachronism's arrival. Upon reaching the table he stops and says nothing in greeting. He is here, and that is enough. Anachronism ------------------------------------------------------------------ A tall figure, more than six feet tall, though it is a little hunched. The head is enclosed by a featureless black cylinder, rounded at to top like a capsule. It is polished to a mirror sheen and bears numerous flexible cables extending from the back of the helmet and leading down into the figure's back. The lanky body of the strange individual is enshrouded in a large black cloak. The cloth of the item falls over hard edges and pipes, hardly hiding the mechanical nature of the being within. Just above where the cloak is worn, on the back, is a smokestack. The tall, narrow cylinder rises half a foot higher than the top of the head and issues puffs of smoke at a regular rate. The machine man hisses and clanks as it moves, and short bursts of steam rush from vents over the torso and limbs. When it speaks, the voice wheezes and grates, and a distinct turning of gears and wheels can be heard. ------------------------------------------------------------------ Not much of a woman of material, Dark-Feather arrives on the scene. The woman's cloak has been removed, leaving her celestial black wings on full-display. A tomahawk sits at her waist as she looks around her, eyes narrowing with determination and impatience. Her lips are lightly puckered as a sour look remains on her expression. Her eyes flicker towards the Doctor, although she turns her body towards Anachronism. Dark-Feather ------------------------------------------------------------------ This willowy Lipan Apache/European female is at the peek of womanhood. Ageless features are seen in the chiseled contours of her face. Dismal pools stare out from her face with a stare of one that has long lost touch with reality. A narrow nose leads down into luscious, full lips. Her dark, silky hair cascades freely to her lanky shoulders. Her manicured fingernails are razor-sharp and have been pained crimson with nail polish. Flawless, toffee colored skin flows across her skin with the accenting colors of dark chocolate seen in her hair color and eyes. Her entire anatomy is adapted for flight. Her body is virtually devoid of fat and possesses greater proportionate muscle mass to withstand injury. Her crimson-toned, ebony feathers are designed in the perfection of bird feathers. They are light but also very strong, and they are flexible but very tough. Her wings have some of the structures as a bird's wing. The wings acting as a secondary appendage, that include: primaries, secondaries, down feathers, ect.. Her identity is usually is concealed under a long, flowing autumn brown cloak. Her other garments are a pair of fitting burgundy leather jumpsuit with a belt equipped with weapons. She has several facial and ear piercings with a small medicine pouch that always is seen around her neck. On her feet area pair of soft soled boots that match the rest of her clothing. For those who are users of the Darkforce; you'd be able to see a mark of possession on her brow. The power of the mystical force seems to also make her eyes glow when there is a strong presence of the mystical force nearby. ------------------------------------------------------------------ Rine stares at the backs of everyone's heads on the way down, not being tremendolusly tall herself. She watches the others head out and can't help but be impressed by the set up the good doctor has. She slowly walks from the elevator towards the center where Otto is, eyeing a few guards on the way. Her duster flows nicely behind her as she moves, and stops even with everyone else, and crosses her arms, looking up at Otto with blank eyes, waiting to see what he has planned. Rine ------------------------------------------------------------------ She is attractive but not drop dead gourgus. Unless you like /wierd/. An extremely obvious trait is that she is white. Pale /white/. Her hair, her skin, her everything. Her Hair is cut short and falls in almost dreadlocks, but more just bunches of hair, at just above shoulder level. It is parted infront of her face, and stops next to her eyes. Her eyes too are solid white, No pupil, unless you get incredibly close, can you see the milky color, of it and her iris, fade into the normal part of her eyes. They are framed by, yes white, eyelashes. Her nose is small and cute, resting above her, small, lips. She has them almost always set, firm and shut. Her frame while small, does have some curves to it. She is wearing a white hooded duster, left unbuttoned, so she isn't restrained by it in anyway. Under that she wears a white bustier (Covers alot!), showing of a little more skin. Her pants are white jeans that fall over a pair of, you guessed it, white, work boots. ------------------------------------------------------------------ Otto rests his fingertips lightly on the edge of the table as his compatriots approach, that crooked smile lingering long on his broad face. "Coil. Red Lotus. The Anachronism. Dark-Feather. And Rine." As he speaks each name, he looks to the individual in question. "Each of you has been specifically selected. For your natural ability, for your skill, or simply for your will and determination." The words roll smoothly off his tongue. "Which is why you have each been chosen as worthy to join me on my latest venture." He pauses there, waiting until each has joined him around the high-tech table. Mechanical gauntlets hang at Coil's sides clawed manipulators idly fidgeting like a human in waiting might. She looks to each of the others in turn, certain to take photos and data transfer ID info into the suits special memory banks, far more organized than a human brain. Red_Lotus glides over to take a seat, eyes taking in each of those present, evaluating. And apparently not being terribly impressed. She gaze settles back on Otto, simply awaiting the explanation of this plan of his. Dark-Feather waits for a few of the others to make a step forward before she follows. Her eyes look dark and mysterious as she looks around her, observing the high-tech equipment with very little interest. The Anachronism performs a scan of the area as he moves to take a seat. There's Calie in her unique form of technology that he is yet to understand. Various other minor things show up in his sense. The weapons and equipment of the guards in the area. And there, those tentacles. The mechanoid remembers the rule: No touching. He sits down rather awkwardly. It's not often that seats are designed to accomodate those with steam engines on their backs. Rine decides it best to not to get anything in here wet, so she simply walks to her seat. She glances at everyone present taking note of their atire, the way they stand, and walk. As she sits her gaze rests upon Otto, awaiting his speech, his plan, the reason he gathered /this/ group of people. Otto Octavius exudes confidence; the man is as much in his element as a shark (or an octopus) in the ocean. One gleaming metal limb reaches underneath the table and touches a control. "Ladies and gentleman. May I present... our target." The surface of the table seems to ripple, the air above it to shimmer briefly. Then appears a perfect three-dimensional image of the Ryker's Island prison, with the man-made, special-containment annex nicknamed "the Raft" lurking in the water next to it. The image is so detailed that the viewers can see tiny figures and vehicles (air and sea) moving about; waves slosh against the rocky shores and seagulls ride the air currents overhead. "Ryker's Island," says the Octopus. "An impenetrable fortress. Or so the powers to be would like people to think. It is an egg waiting to be cracked... and, to the hypocritical, meddling costumed do-gooding /scum/ that consider themselves the gods of this city, irresistible bait." Coil nods at this, assuming he will get to the goal without prompting from her; after all, he is Dr. Octopus. Red_Lotus leans forward, one eyebrow raising once the target is revealed, eyes practically sparkling with interest. "To destroy," she looks up at Otto, "Or to conquer, Doctor Octavius?" The Anachronism remains silent, save for his usual quiet rhythm of the engine. He peers into the image, and the device generating it. If it is a real-time image, he checks the connection, if possible to reach the devices watching the island. Dark-Feather places her hands at the edge of the table, her head tilting to one side as the table constructs a three-dimensional plane on it's surface. Her eyes are dark and considering the current propaganda and waiting for more truths to be revealed by the questions that the others 'bring to the table'. Rine leans back into her chair, and rests one legs on the other, bringing her fingers together. She rests them on her chin, as her blank eyes scan over the image of the 'Raft'. She already knows it's gonna be a /bitch/ to get there, she still has no clue what Otto wants from this floating prison. You page, "It's not real-time. In fact, the recording's obviously from noonish on a clear day. Extremely sophisticated imager and data storage built into the table-display, though. In fact, let's face it, the whole place is chock-a-block with sophisticated tech. B)" to Anachronism. Anachronism pages, "Okay. Anach is inside it, but not touching anything. It's interesting stuff." to you. Otto tilts his obscured gaze toward Red Lotus. "By the time we're done with it, it will be /gutted/." His voice lowers to a sinister growl; that twisted smile never flickers off his lips. "But first, we will conquer. We will take it, and hold it, and the so-called heroes will be forced to act. And in acting, will die, for we will have all the advantage. Observe." Another tentacle telescopes outward to accept a palm-sized disc-like device from a waiting technician. "This, my friends, is our ace... or at least a small, low-powered version of such." He sets it on the edge of the table, between his hands. "It will give us all the advantage and leave our enemies stumbling in the dark should they... /when/ they... dare to act against us." Adamantium claws touch two points on either side of the disc, and then, abruptly, everything goes black. Utterly black. Eyes that see by visual light are blinded, for there's not the slightest bit of it. Infrared and ultraviolet sensors are likewise completely useless. The sphere extends past the table, engulfing the Octopus and all his companions. Coil pages, "general scanner information on the darkness?" to you. "Intresting," Dark-Feather speaks softly when her ultraviolet senses are blinded by this technology that Otto possessed. You page, "Basically, a chunk of the electromagnetic spectrum's being completely blocked out. Infrared through ultraviolet." to Coil. A wry grin tugs at coil's mouth, "Gamma spectrum may work for seeing in this, though an advanced sonar mapping ability may also work, far more easily. I wouldn't put it past Ironman to have the like; or some others. All the same; complete darkness, Indeed. "I assume this is not your only safe guard against the inevitable attack from the vigilantes," Red Lotus says through the darkness. Oh yes, that's definitely a /when/. "You are planning a higher powered version of this as well? To black out the whole island?" Without any means of seeing through the black, the Anachronism decides to find another. The doctor's goggles are no doubt adapted to penetrate this barrier. He takes a look. With a grating, mechanical voice he says, "If our adversaries bring any kind of sensory systems capable of countering this darkness, we will be able to disable them." You page, "Smart cyborg. Yes, Ock's goggles negate the effect; for him, it's as if the blackness doesn't even exist. B)" to Anachronism. Rine leans forward to grab onto the table, and sits on the edge of he chair. She is scared, remembering what happened the last-time she was in a darkend room. Though Rhino is incredibly late to the agreed-upon meeting place, he's still expected, and there's a waiting pair of professional-looking armed men in long brown coats and dark purple-black tactical gear ready and willing to escort the last member of the gathering into the hidden elevator and down to the high-tech, bustling underground headquarters of Doctor Octopus. As he enters, the sphere of complete blackness that surrounds the elevated platform at the far end of the massive room vanishes, revealing Octavius himself and five companions gathered around a table display which, currently, shows a perfectly detailed three-dimensional image of the Ryker's Island prison and the nearby Raft annex. Octavius, dressed in the white double-breasted Armani suit, is grinning predatorily. "One moment, my friends, while I introduce our last member. Rhino!" He calls out to the new arrival in a tone that's almost jovial. "How good of you to make it." "D'I got caught up on somethin', Doc." Rhino grunts out as he lumbers in, his grey bulk hidden beneath a tent-like trenchcoat. A dim gaze shifts over the gathered group and stubby fingers raise to rub at the base of his horns. "This is 'em, huh?" Coil's eyes narrow from behind the visor that shields her face, linked tendrils sway gently as though troubled by a light wind. The techokinetic armor-wearer nods at Rino, filing his photo as well in her database. "I'm coil." says the armor the woman wears, though her own mouth still refuses to move. Red_Lotus looks at the newcomer once the darkness recedes, taking in his appearance with one raised eyebrow. "You may address me as Red Lotus," she offers, after Coil's introduction. Dark-Feather remains standing quietly, her eyes flickering towards the newly arrived in which her eyelids narrow. Her wings give an unconscious snap against her back. "Dark-Feather," she says as they go around introducing one another. The Anachronism turns his faceless mask toward Rhino. In his usual mechanical voice he introduces himself, "I am the Anachronism." He performs a quick scan of the large man to see if he is carrying anything of interest, then returns his attention to Octavius. Rine squints her eyes as the dark fades away, to not be temporarily blinded by the lights. She looks over her shoulder at the large, gray, man. She gives a playfull wink and says her name as well, "Rine." She turns back to Otto, waiting for more of the scheme, and everyones part in it. "This is indeed, my horn'ed friend," says Octavius, one tentacle making a quick little beckoning gesture. He turns his focus back to the matter at hand. "To answer your questions," he says, his tone turning brisk, "first of all, yes, the whole prison will be blacked out. Anyone not behind bars will be eliminated. Those behind bars... if they're useful, we'll use them. If not..." The merciless leer says it all. "The sphere of darkness is merely to give ourselves an advantage..." The display changes, turning to a more tactical image as the prison turns into a three-dimensional blueprint. Where Octavius obtained such a detailed layout is an exercise best left to the observer. What becomes clear as the multi-armed mastermind goes over the details of the assault and the occupation is that his other title, that of the Master Planner, is not undeserved. He has a place and a role for each of them, one suited to their particular skills. He seems to know every nook, cranny, and well-defensible area of the prison. Dubious is the simple face of the Rhino as he takes every greeting in stride, filing each name away erroneously and blinking at the complex, purdy details. "That's...damn. Ain't that somethin'! What do ya need me ta bust down, Doc?" Coil ponders a moment, what an awkward position to be put in; for your 18th birthday I welcome you, Calie Anderson to be a villian. Yes the cold hard facts sometimes don't sink in that quickly, even if someone is a genius. "What is in this deal that is as lucrative as you said at the beginning Red_Lotus listens attentively, impressed by how well thought out this plan is. "I will put forth my request now, that a selection of those to be eliminated be kept alive for my purposes, three or four should be plenty." Apparently, that's her way of letting it be known that she's behind this plan. Sitting back, Dark-Feather has a calming expression held across her face. She lightly strokes her cheek with a fingertip as she listens carefully, remaining alertful to the comments made. The angel-like woman tilts her head to one side as she looks towards Red_Lotus. The Anachronism considers the fact that there may be many fatalities during the operation, largely due to the lethal methods likely to be employed by the villains. "If necessary, I will bring my ressurection equipment. Those eliminated will be able to return to their normal lives with no memory of the events." Rine looks over at Anachronism, with her blank eyes and asks, "What for?" She sees no purpose for zombies in a captured prison. She then looks at Otto, expecting him to expound on more of the plan in general, and get into the specifics. Otto turns raised eyebrows and a slight frown over toward the Anachronism and then gives a humorless little smirk. "Bring your equipment, but don't waste it on those who oppose us. They've made their choice and will have to live, or rather die, with it." Then he looks at Red Lotus. "Or be used," he adds, "as we see fit. Rhino, your strength will be needed when the city's heroes come to retake the prison." He gives the big man a grin. "We'll see, perhaps, how well the webslinger /especially/ dodges while blind. Though do make an effort not to kill him. /That/ pleasure I claim for myself. Coil, both you and the Anachronism will find our target to be a gold mine of useful technology. Technology to take and use as you see fit." The spoils of war, in other words. "After two weeks, we will withdraw, leaving little or nothing behind useful beyond the structure of the prison itself. If that." He smirks. Fake_Rhino bristles with the thought and waves his ham fists excitedly. "Kill 'em or not, Doc. I'm gonna run 'em over and hit 'em wit' a brick!" He remarks gruffly, his grey face emblazoned with hope as he 'visualizes' the attack. Rhino is not so good with tactics. Red_Lotus nods when Otto looks in her direction, accepting that as an approval of her request. Her gaze falls to Dark-Feather, catching the woman's head tilt and returning it with a raise of an eyebrow. Her eyes, then, roll at Rhino's little outburst. Dark-Feather laughs softly towards Fake_Rhino, her eyes briefly lighting up in amusement. The woman places her hand unser her chin, leaning forward as she observes the others with her in the room. The Anachronism listens to plans, and looks over the three dimensional image. "The taking of the island will not be difficult if they do not have non-technological defenses. Is there a limit to the amount of equipment we may take when we assault the island?" Rine glances over at Rhino, and rests a head on her hand, and shakes a bit. She quickly leans back, knowing the value of a smasher in a thing like this. She looks to Otto and the others still not too sure where she comes into play though. She glances over to each of them as they ask their questions, respectively. Otto gives Rhino a low, appreciative-sounding chuckle. He, too, knows the value of a smasher, especially /this/ smasher. Answering the clockwork cyborg, he says, "Leave the island's defensive systems. In the initial assault, these will be disabled rather than destroyed and then put back to use on our behalf. When we eventually retreat, you may assimilate whatever you desire. In fact, the less we leave intact the better." He looks around, regarding them over the slowly rotating tactical display. "Any other questions?" Fake_Rhino looks around silently. He seems to think he has no need for clarification. Red_Lotus stands from the table, shaking her head, "It was a very clear explanation, Doctor. No questions come to mind." The Anachronism says, "I have no further questions." Otto smiles. It's not a pleasant expression. It's a smile that promises bad things to happen to good people. "Then you may leave. My men will escort you back to the surface." Right on cue, a few step up, just as the Octopus uses a tentacle to switch off the display. "I will be in touch soon."