Marvelous Madcap (mis)Adventures

[Small Foxx]

gold WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 18rd, 2017
LAKE WALLENPAUPACK, PA
LOCH HIGHLANDS COTTAGE
7:09pm

​

[fieldbox="Two Weeks Ago..., goldenrod, dashed, 13"]With a couple of weeks to spare for a disconnection from their everyday lives, The Nine -- yes, it's a dumb name -- decided that there was nothing like laying around and watching Netflix after a long day of doing jackshit. There was a cabin in the Poconos that they'd been going to for the past four or so get-togethers, and a lake nearby -- compliments of Adam. It was serene and beautiful, and there was nobody there to tell them what to do. How wonderful it was to be extraordinary with the ability to just be ordinary. But then the news came on, yet another story of chaos and disaster. A man had a 2-day showdown with the police officers during which he killed eighteen civilians and nine cops. He had been caught and he was in prison.

Tony Stark was a special guest that day, smiling his dumb smile and giving props to the men and women in blue.

But then they showed a clip of a girl with powers "one of those... people", they'd called her; she was only fifteen. The girl seemed to have lost control of her abilities -- it looked like she had some form of lycanthropy, which a few of the nine agreed would be pretty dope if well-managed -- and she was taken down. Shot. People cheered and sighed in relief when Watchdogs and Sentinel Services rolled into the video. Because of the graphic nature, CNN removed the video from the screen before anyone could see, but the audio still played. There was a great deal of pained howling among the thundering of fired bullets, and those howls became the whimpers of a hit dog, and those whimpers became the cries of a young girl begging for her life. Maybe if they turned the volume all the way up they could hear the sound of her drawing her last breath.

Tony Stark had nothing to say except a calm platitude about how he wished she would have gotten help and how dangerous it was to be in law enforcement these days. Two seconds later and they were discussing how the Registration Act would be great for everyone Then the television shorted out, struck by a flash of crackling green electricity that flew from Rosita's trembling fingers.

"So the man that murdered TWENTY-SEVEN PEOPLE gets taken alive? The cops risk and end lives waiting him out in a fuckin' Morse vs Soto shootout for two days just so they can slap a pair of cuffs on him, put him on trial -- as if there's some question to his guilt -- and he gets to spend the rest of his life, or at least the next fifteen to thirty years, chillin' in jail? He's in prison, but he's alive. He gets to live, but the girl who needed help had to die? They couldn't sedate her? They just... And now they're hauling her off to Trask to dissect her like she wasn't a person." Rosita had started crying and the cabin began to shake.

"Trask doesn't..."

Rosita glared, lifting the curtain of black hair, flashing a tattooed barcode with T R A S K practically carved into her neck.

"Trust me... There's a lot going on behind the scenes that they aren't saying or just don't know about. People who try to shed the light are the people you don't hear from anymore. But now." She bit her lip so hard she drew blood.​

"They're barely hiding it now; tagging us like animals... But nobody wants to talk about how the RA says we're not people, that we're weapons. We're things -- government property."

"I thought the Avengers and Spider-Man and the X-Men were supposed to help, but either they're inhumane traitors that agree, or they're inhumane traitors and cowards with their heads in the sand."​

"While they're doing that, who's lookin' out for us?"

"Honestly, who's looking out for anyone these days?"​

"How do they get to be called heroes when the only time they really get off their ass is when aliens fall from the sky or when the murderbots they made occupy a small European country?"

"Spider-Man's okay, but his sorry ass could speak up a little; I mean..."​

"People want people like us to be heroes, but only how they want us to be! They love it when mutants and Inhumans and freaks of radioactive explosions use their superpowers to rescue their dog from a storm drain or get their kids out of a burning apartment--"

"But they don't wanna stick by them -- us -- when it gets hard, when the powers and everything gets overwhelming. When the nightmares..." They trailed off.

​

A lengthy discussion that went well into the wee hours of the night followed. It was a helluva an emotional floodgate being opened as they touched on topics that the world's beloved heroes, politicians, and news anchors shied away from. Doors were kicked open as those with the past experience confirmed the horror stories people whispered about when they thought no one could hear. They all knew the world was an ugly and horrible place, but talking about it together seemed to make it more real. Even realer was the fact that it seemed like their heroes weren't really heroes after all. They came together when the world needed them most, but the world was in constant need, wasn't it? Sentinel Services weren't aliens -- not that they knew of, anyways, because they could be Skrulls -- but they needed to have a hammer taken to them. As did Trask. And Watchdogs. There were so many.

Tony Stark said he was just a whistleblower now, directing the correct authorities to where they needed to be -- like that worked out so fuckin' well with Vulture on the ferry -- but how did you blow the whistle on the government?

"Easy," one of them said. "You say fuck 'em."

From there, an idea was born. It was a joke at first, because who could imagine them dressed up in leather, spandex, and unstable molecules as they ran around saving the day? It was a laughable idea, the thought of them showing up in their jeans and t-shirts, but managing to at least scrounge together matching jackets so they at least semi-resembled a team. It was a riot. Until it wasn't. Until it was serious. Hadn't they already proven that the realm of heroics wasn't entirely out of their reach? They didn't stop an alien hoard, but they didn't need to.

People kept saying "you have powers, you should use them and be a hero", right? So they would use what they had, what made them special -- powers, special training, floatie glove thingies -- and they'd be heroes. Just not the heroes they world was expecting.[/fieldbox]

 

[Small Foxx]

goldenrod SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 3rd, 2018
CAPE MAY, NEW JERSEY
BUCKINGHAM BEACH DINER
9:18am

[fieldbox=Sister Nature, green, groove]Glancing up from her tablet, Rosita watched everyone else eating their breakfast and chatting in low tones. Sometimes she envied their ability to go to any restaurant or store and eat whatever they wanted whenever they wanted; and then she remembered they were poisoning their bodies so....

The diner that was part of a pair with the cheesy, dinky motel they were staying in didn't have a lot of winter business, leaving their little group of freaks mostly alone to discuss what they'd been up to lately and what they wanted to do next. This was a terrible idea. But it seemed like one of those ideas what was just so absolutely shitty that it might even work out fine. Rosita wasn't sure which way it was leaning yet, but she was in it for the long haul – or at least until they started getting on her nerves. Part of her wanted to leave already. It wasn't that she didn't like the other Madcaps, just that she wasn't sure if she belonged there. Would they even want her around if during their cliché introduction circle when they first met she had told them more than--

"Hi! My name is Rosita Bianchi – yes, of those Bianchis – and I'm twenty years old. I'm an environmental scientist; well, I'm studying to be one. Oh, and I'm a mutant."

What she didn't tell them was about Xavier's. She wasn't sure how many of them were mutants, or if they knew, and Rosita decided it was best to keep her mouth shut -- at least until those idiots went viral and exposed all of mutantkind two years ago.

(Her viewpoints were more on the Brotherhood end of the Spectrum than the X-Men at least thirty-three percent of the time, but that didn't mean she didn't respect the people who took her in.)

She also didn't deign to tell them about her proclivity for finding different ways of killing Watchdogs and Sentinel Services agents. Maybe she was a bit psychotic – maybe – but they didn't need to know that yet. Rosita was enjoying her new... pals. And, besides, it's not like any of the others really "belonged" in the group anyways. All anyone had to do was read a synopsis of the nine of them to realize that their group shouldn't even be a group: at least two of them probably belonged behind bars, half of them needed serious professional therapy, and most of them barely even knew how to tackle the challenges they'd decided to face.

Maybe it was the sheer cockeyed-ness of the Madcaps that made her enjoy them so much.

Even so, something had to change.

"Excuse me," she said, holding up her hand like a student waiting to be called on. "Yeah, hi. Look–" Rosita clapped her hands together softly and gave everyone a dramatic look of sympathy "as much as I love driving around and staying in dingy motels like we're a LARPing Supernatural, or on a quest to film outré pornography in every nasty hooker paradise on the eastern seaboard, things have gotta change." She wasn't trying to sound bougee, it just happened to be the way she stringed her words together. She knew that maybe she would have been better received if she would have said "guys, we can't just keep staying in these dirty hotel rooms", but talking without embellishments didn't seem like something she was capable of.

As she spoke, she grabbed her tablet and turned it around so everyone could see the images of a clearly abandoned factory glaring back at them. "The Avengers have their compound upstate, the X-Men have a mansion on an estate, Spider-Man probably has some cool lair. I heard the Brotherhood has an island now – they used to have an entire military compound they renovated."

Maybe it wasn't too late to whistle a different tune and team up with one of the more established groups that had something to offer besides weirdos.

––– Nah; she enjoyed her weirdos. Especially Adam and Temperence.

"Before you say it," she paused and gave Kelsey sidelong gaze "–I'm not being a snob. It's practical. We've talked about taking on Sentinel Services, but that's big. We're gonna need a base. I have faith in us, but not enough that I think we're going to be able to do anything black ops style yet. We're gonna be seen, and I don't think half of you – any of you, really – are capable of making sure there aren't any witnesses left behind. Our faces will be on the news at some point, and I don't think Megyn Kelly is gonna be calling us heroes -- Anderson Cooper probably will, though. So, it'd be better if we have some kind of a base to regroup at. In the long run, it's also more affordable. Unless you guys are cool with our bohemian chic porno vibe and want to rob banks and wait tables at midnight to afford to be whatever the hell it is we are."

They had spent the past two weeks performing small acts of heroics: stopping car jackers and shoplifters, escorting domestic abuse victims to pack their things, paying for the plane tickets of young mutants needing a way to Xavier's, pulling people from car wrecks, cracking the skulls of people dropping roofies in drinks. They weren't ready for the big things yet; how could they when they didn't know how to work together on that scale? Taking on the government and their dogs would require coordination and trust in one another. That was a bit lacking.

"With Adam and I footing the bill, we can get this property; it's out of the way, spacious, comes with ten acres of land. Renovating it won't take long, security measures are a no-brainer... The woman who owns it is willing to do it under the table so the transaction can't be tracked -- she's for the cause. I mean. It's a solid plan and the best next move. New Jersey will finally have something to offer the world besides t-shirt time and... Buckingham Beach Motel..."[/fieldbox]

 

[Aero Blue]

---

Colleen Hoang and the age-old question:
CAN ONE REALLY 'SIP' A MILKSHAKE?

---

The diner-and-drive-in lifestyle was a bit limiting in some ways; Colleen Hoang felt more like the Guy Fieri of unemployed-journalists-turned-aspiring-superhero than, say, the Steve Rogers of… unemployed-journalists-turned-aspiring-superhero. Not to say that it didn't have its perks. At this point, Colleen felt a sort of kindred knowledge when it came to the various strawberry milkshakes of good ol' America, to the extent where she personally considered it a valid form of academia. She was uniquely suited to the field, as it happened; the dairy goodness would bypass her thighs and go, ostensibly, towards some mysterious skinny-girl hammerspace - which would inevitably all come hurtling back to bite her when she hit the big four-oh.

The effortful sucking of the krazy-loop-straw (ill-advised for milkshake purposes) was temporarily paused as she hearkened back to a faux-piece the Bugle had once asked of her; the mysterious supervillain who allegedly provoked sudden obesity with a touch.

Scary. (Also, this strawberry milkshake was a firm 2/10).

"I like motel rooms." Colleen allowed the straw to linger at the edge of her mouth, "You only really know people when they're outside the, um, 'armor of their finery'. And smelling like motel musk and money shots."

Really, she wasn't in the right mindset to be considering such drastic lifestyle changes. Her untrained, milkshake-sustained body was aching all over, and her mental state was: pained, at best. Not due to any trauma, really, but she had a few macroeconomics essays to write for the paid-for-education-one-percenter crowd - and it was painful. There was no struggle quite like writing a paper just mediocre enough to snag an inconspicuous C+ grade.

"Besides, are we really ready for the identity shift? I kind of liked the Craigslist-superhero vibe."

 

[Bears]

---

ROBBIE VALENTINE[/hr]

---

Calling the lot of them good guys was a stretch, calling them superheroes was... problematic. Or at least that was how Robbie felt regarding the situation while he sat tucked away in the corner, the outward voices of the Madcaps' chats accompanied by the muffled inward voices within each of their pretty little heads. Robbie Valentine, who had yet to even choose a superhero name, pushed his half eaten plate of greasy eggs and bacon aside and procured a flask.

Single malt scotch was his weakness. Along with vodka, tequila, and rum. Brandy was just dandy with him too, but somehow always managed to be considered last, when he had already spent all of his money on the other higher-priority spirits.

Robert swallowed down the whiskey at nine in the morning with the demeanor of a professional. He was quick, quiet, and returned with a gruff growl. He felt the heat in his throat, then in his belly, and everything running through his mind became a little quieter. Were they not in the middle of a rather important discussion he would've thrown it back at least twice more, but for the sake of a decision he refrained.

Out of everyone in their little brigade Robbie was probably the one most acclimated to the motel musk and greasy morning afters. So he supposed it made sense (or perhaps it didn't, it's all about perspective after all) that he'd be one of the members who was decidedly sick of it all.

Going back on his decison to be done with breakfast, Robbie grabbed the closest fork and stabbed at the last piece of nearly burnt bacon on his plate. The telepath spoke only when he swallowed, and with a tone that was more sardonic than anything. "I don't know about you guys but two weeks ago I agreed to help because I thought it would get me out of the vicious cycle that is motel hopping... not introducing a bunch of kids to it."

His eyes fluttered across the relatively youthful but far from innocent faces seated near him. "No offense."​

 

[Jays]

Edmund Finn

Ender felt another headache welling up behind his eyes. He fought down the urge to find something heavy and knock the whole bottle down, the fourth time that day. He'd turn into Valentine before the end of the week at this stage. They had been doing small-time stuff, the others working their nerves up to properly try to kill themselves next time. This was still the easy part, he had to keep reminding himself, the hard part was to come later. It didn't feel easy.

The diner was barely occupied. A few locals, a couple of truckers, one homeless-looking guy, and their strange bunch. Tiredness churned in the air, bitter and bruisingly blue, accompanied by a lilac-scented boredom and low buzzing anxiety, all of them dulled around the edges. Dinky places like this could dull anything, it seemed. Ender did not particularly hate it, no more than he disliked any other unassuming small-town establishment, but he sure wished he was someplace else.

Absentmindedly swirling the horribly bland coffee in front of him, Ender tapped and burned a little excitement off the waitress who was on her phone chatting with her boyfriend behind the counter, and woke himself up more than the coffee ever did. He had nearly dozed off.

"Doing it under the table means she could take your money, then call the authority on you to report some sort of mutant takeover of her land. Then she gets to keep the money and be a good citizen at the same time. You go through with it, and the only thing keeping you out of jail or worse will be her good will. Not an ideal situation to be in, is it?"

He was being the voice of reason, again. His conscience wouldn't allow otherwise. But of course, like always, they'd ignore him and go right ahead throwing themselves at danger without a moment's consideration. It was like babysitting a group of suicidal infants. Superpowered suicidal infants.

"What's wrong with motels, anyway?" Muttered Ender. Answer: a lot of things. But it would at least dull their senses and their self-destructive tendencies to a manageable level.

 

[CallMeCrimson]

[fieldbox="ELI AND THE DENIAL OF THE SQUEAK, deeppink, solid, 24, audiowide"]

The two star diner needed a make over in his opinion. It was about as charming as the quaint motel they had stayed in last night with the terrible decorations, itchy sheets, and how-did-that-get-there-never-mind-I-don't-want-to-know stains on the 'white' ceiling. The tacky wall paper (really, that color with that pattern?) and the rather loud rush of ahem emotions he could catch just from touching a wall were just toppings on the cake. Elijah shuddered, remembering the emotions, and gently yanked the leather gloves he was wearing tighter against his skin. They served their purpose, allowing him to touch people without feeling what they felt or digging into their deepest, darkest memories, but they would need to be replaced soon. He could already see a hole being worn into them from recent overuse.

The last two weeks had been exhausting. While he didn't let it show the use of his powers so often left an emotional strain on him, reminding him often of the time where he could feel everyone's emotions all throughout the day. His brain hurt but his body was at least okay. Having trained for a very long time and having to play the part as an Enhanced Field Agent in SHIELD left him well enough trained. Still, to put it lightly, this sucked (only slightly, but that's not the point). Sighing in exhaustion, Elijah set his head atop his folded hands and drank from his soda (he's only 70% sure it's root beer) using one of those flouresent bendy straws... or tried to? The straw escaped his attempts every time, slipping away from a determined Affinity for well over a minute. Finally grasping the straw between his teeth with a victorious grin that lit up his blue eyes.

Those same eyes flickered between his teammates faces hoping one of them would smile with him at his, albeit stupid, achievement. Taking a sip of the soda, he kept the accomplished grin on his face as he listened to Rosita speak. When he heard the suggestion for a home base from Rosita, his head jerked upwards as if about to put in his own opinion, but succeeded in only getting out the word "Yes," before disaster struck.

Unfortunately for Elijah and amusing or embarrassing for onlookers, he still had the straw firmly in his mouth when this happened, dumping the ice cold, I-think-it's-root-beer onto the table, the floor, and an unsuspecting Elijah. Jerking back at the feeling of cold, cold, cold he shoved back, tipping the chair over with them. He would deny that squeak of complete and utter terror that left his mouth till the day he died.
[/fieldbox]

 

[Elle Joyner]

[bg=white][/bg]

[bg=white]

They were some kind of nightmare reality series. That was the solitary thought traversing the greyspace between her ears as Temperance dipped another greasy, underwhelming homefry in Heinz 57. Jersey Shore meets the Real World (meets Intervention... Robbie). So painfully accurate was that thought that more than once throughout their meal, she fought the urge to look for the cameras and boom mics hiding out in corners of the dive eatery, half expecting a producer to slip out of the wings to tell her it was her turn in the interview room.

She loved the team. Sometimes, most of the time, she found herself questioning why and rarely an answer came back with satisfying clarity, but the fact was while, contrary to the adage, you could pick your family, that didn't necessarily make them any less dysfunctional than one borne of blood. And they were the very heart and soul of dysfunction.

But she was tired. Tired of traveling. Tired of terrible diner food, and terrible Spotify playlists, and creaky motel beds that held more venereal bacteria than Gene Simmons in the good old days, and cold showers for all the wrong reasons...

She wanted peace and quiet and hot water and a functioning convection oven...

As she listened to the others, mouthing their opinions that were in no way surprising or beneficial to decision making, she dropped the more-grease-than-potato fry back onto the plate and pushed the whole thing away. Around the same time, Elijah, exclaiming his excitement over the idea in a way reminiscent of a toddler who realized very suddenly they had to pee, tipped his drink and then himself onto the floor. Watching the display with a brow raised, she shook her head… The kid was a disaster…

"Listen," She started, meanwhile leaning down to give an arm to help Elijah upright again, "The way I see it... we ain't the Avengers. Hell, we ain't even the discount Avengers... But we got it in our heads to do this either way. And as great fun as campin' out in roadside cesspool has been, this ain't workin'. But we can spend all day goin' back and forth here. So why don't we just skip high school debate club and put it to a vote? Otherwise we're never gonna come to an agreement, and I'm pretty sure none of us got the arteries to handle lunch or dinner in a dive like this..."

[/bg]

 

[Mundane Monster]

diners suck.

NAME
Kelsey Vance

NICKNAMES
Kel

INTERACTIONS
everyone

MOOD
Pensive / Irritated / Resolute

FASHION
Look

THEME SONG
Listen

CREDIT
CRYSTAL TEARS MADE THIS CODE!

Post

Kelsey hated diners. They reminded her of the many months she spent on the road with her grandparents, fleeing from the world. The RV had been stuffed with dark and angry feelings swirling all around, and at first the various diners they came across offered some reprieve. Kelsey rarely waited for her grandfather to finish parking before she burst out of the RV and ran into the diner, flinging the doors open and ignoring the annoyed looks she got from the patrons inside. She would plop herself down in one of the booths and breath a sigh of relief, finally free from the withering glares of her guardians, only to suck that breath right in when her grandparents trudged into the diner and planted themselves into the same booth. The trio would stare down at their menus, completely silent and not say a word to each other. Back then Kelsey would order the typical 'youngster' meal of eggs, bacon and some whip cream drenched sugary pancake abomination. When the waitress set it down in front of her she'd be so excited to dig in but one glance at her grandparents, glaring down at their identical plates of lightly burnt toast and dingy mugs of black coffee, made Kelsey feel so guilty and sick to her stomach that each forkful of her greasy, savory, sugary and not discount meal felt like dirt sliding down her throat.

* * *

As her compatriots discussed their future as vigilantes--not heroes-- Kelsey took a medium sized bite of her slightly burnt toast and felt the edges of the bread scrape her throat. She'd gotten coffee out of habit, but she had yet to drink any. She didn't need anything dousing the flame in her chest in case something requiring the use of her powers arose.

She had been silent for awhile, only relying on facial expressions to convey her feelings. She'd stared blankly at Rosita's defense of herself not being a snob, not bothering to tell the other woman that she felt the same. When Colleen dropped her poetic two cents in, Kelsey simply cocked an eyebrow. Armor of finery, huh? Kelsey often found that when people let their walls down, others didn't like what was revealed. Motels didn't offer much privacy since they had to double up usually, and Kelsey needed her privacy. Fuck armors of finery.

Robert's patronizing complaint was met with a steely glower. Sure she was ten years younger than him, but she didn't consider herself a child and didn't appreciate being grouped together with babies like Elij--Kelsey's face contorted with irritation when said childish member proceeded to spill his soda like a goddamn toddler. "Seriously?" She snapped, breaking her silence for the first time since she'd ordered her bland toast. Yanking a bunch of napkins out of the rusty dispenser on the table, Kelsey flung them at the brunette.

Turning back to the rest, Kelsey figured that she would contribute her own feelings on the matter. "I think we should end the motel and diner pattern too. It's not healthy and every place we've been to has been even more disgusting than the last. Not only that, but you two," She gestured at Rosita and Adam, "may have a never-ending supply of income but we," she gestured to everyone else but the first two, "don't."

She nodded at Penny, "So I vote yes but we should consider Edmund's concerns. What makes you trust her, Rosita?"

 

[Quake]

[fieldbox="Adam Masters, red, solid"]

Adam Masters listened intently as the group spoke their minds on the idea of moving to a more stable and secure location. A home base, if you will. While some seemed to like the idea, there were others that questioned it, which was understandable. Change was not something people were easily accustomed to. Well, at least not most people. This particular group of misfits came from all walks of life. They each had different experiences, lifestyles, and stories that had shaped them into who they were, but Adam believed they'd all come together for the greater good. To help people. To be heroes, or jerry-rigged versions of the sort. Avoiding his meal, Adam's eyes danced around the table, watching the eclectic bunch speak their minds on the latest topic. We've really got quite a handful here, he thought to himself. Looking down at his plate, he thought about trying to eat, but found his meal appeared less than appetizing, and so politely set his fork back down. Clearing his throat, Adam decided it was time to share his thoughts.

"Let me say this. We're trying to do something special here. And as much as I believe we're doing the best we can with what we have, we could do so much more if we had the right equipment; proper resources, even just a comfortable bed that doesn't smell like old moth balls and bad decisions." Adam paused, taking a sip of his coffee. The diner had ran out of creamer, which had left the caffeinated drink quite bitter. "Wow, really taste the beans in this one," he muttered to himself, scrunching up his nose slightly.

Just then, Elijah spilled his drink, interrupting Adam's train of thought. He watched amused as the awkward man struggled to recover from his little accident. As the others continued to speak their minds, Adam excused himself from the table to use the restroom. On his way back, he briefly spoke with one of the staff members. After a moment, he returned to his seat to see what he'd missed in his absence. After listening a bit more to the back and forth conversation, he pitched in once again.

"Look all Im saying is I think we could really benefit from this. And while I can't speak for Rosita's relationship or experience with this woman, I do strongly believe in her ability to judge character. If she believes this landowner really is "for the cause," then I have no problem investing in such a venture. My businesses have been very successful as of late, and there wouldn't be any monetary issue paying for this land or any of the things we might need. Think of it as a gift."

As the conversations continued, a hotel staff member came by the table, setting a glass of ice and a fresh can of Coke in front of Eli. "Thank you love," Adam said, flashing his million dollar smile at her as she walked away blushing. Glancing over at Eli, he grinned, remembering the brief mishap only moments ago.

"Try not to wear that one," he joked lightly, before turning his attention back to the rest of the team and the matter at hand. "Anyways, that's all I really have to say on the subject. In the end, I too agree that taking a vote would be best."

[/fieldbox]

 

[MST3K 4ever]

[fieldbox="Allison, blue, dashed, 10, Tahoma"]

​

Allison looked at her "pancake special" and was wondering what made it so special. Maybe it was because enough people had eaten it and it didn't kill anyone yet. Allison though wasn't about to take any chances as she slowly pushed away a sizable piece with her fork along with a half-eaten piece of bacon. Allison took a sip of the coffee and blinked twice as she put it down. She said, "Okay I'm not exactly a coffee connoisseur, but I'm pretty sure coffee isn't supposed to be crunchy." Allison pushed it away and said, "And I have my doubts it's the grounds that are giving it that crunchiness." Shaking her head Allison said, "Not to mention I bit into my bacon and I think it said, 'ouch.'"

Allison motioned for the waitress who approached the table and Allison asked, "Can you bring me a Diet-Coke?" The waitress replied, "What size?" Allison said, "Just bring me the can unopened." The Waitress started to say, "We can't…" Allison then quickly gave her a five-dollar bill and said, "Keep the change." The waitress stuffed the money in her apron and said, "One can of Diet-Coke coming up." Allison smiled and replied, "Thank you." As the Waitress walked away Allison looked at the group and said, "In theory, it should be safe."

Letting out an exhale Allison stretched out her back a bit as the waitress returned with her Diet-Coke. Allison opened the soda and took a couple of quick swigs to get the coffee taste out of her mouth. She followed the conversation as best she could. Both sides had their points, and Allison was pretty sure which way she was going to lean. Allison put her drink down and said, "Okay I have concerns about this unknown woman who is willing to help us, but I trust Rosita. Also, being the discount super-hero thing is getting really old really fast."

Leaning back in her seat Allison looked up at the ceiling for a moment and gathered her thoughts. When she was done Allison said, "Last night, I shrunk down and slept in my travel bag, because I didn't trust the bed that smelled like it had been doused with Lysol as recently as that morning." She looked around the group as she continued, "I thought about sleeping in the bathtub, but the two cockroaches that were mating I felt needed privacy." Taking another swig and letting it linger Allison shook her head and said, "Truthfully that wasn't the first time I've done that, and I'm getting really tired of it.'' Allison took a long look at everyone at the table and said, "Yeah none of us are going to get a call from Captain America to join The Avengers anytime soon, and HYDRA would laugh at us if we showed up at their door, but that doesn't mean WE have to see ourselves as second rate." Allison could feel something boiling inside of her and she knew it was time to let it out as she said with great focus in her voice, "We can make a difference together. We aren't the rejects or the bargain priced heroes damnit! We have as much right as any of the big names to go out there and make a difference, and if we believe that we can make a difference in the world then that starts with how we view ourselves." She shook her head and said, "I see eight people that I give a damn about. More so than some of my own family and I am honored to be doing this with you all. So, let's show that we are ready to take a stand for those who can't. Face it, The Avengers can't be everywhere at once."

Taking a longer gulp Allison caught the eye of the waitress and pulled out another five-dollars. She held it over her head and the waitress nodded. Allison started to say something but let out a belch and embarrassed she said with her head down, "Excuse me." Once she felt the red fade from her face Allison looked up and said, "We have a chance to also refine our resources." She rolled her eyes and said, "Yes I am being somewhat selfish about this too, because I am getting really tired of…" Just then the waitress put another can in front of Allison who gave her the money and her breakfast plate. Allison said, "Thank you." As the waitress left Allison said, "Where was I? Oh yeah, I am getting tired of shrinking down and trying to get dressed in the Barbie clothes I have stashed away like some teenager who is about to get caught making out in her parents living room! I would like to actually see about creating a costume, because the Barbie clothes thing is getting really uncomfortable for me. Not to mention I lose two more sets of sweat-clothes I will be forced to wear a Barbie prom dress or swimsuit. " Allison opened her second can and took a drink. After she put the can back on the table she said, "Besides, it would be nice to have a place to call home for us." She looked at Rosita and said, "I trust you. However, I think we should look at this place before we have an official vote." Looking around Allison said, "Besides any reason to get out of this place is okay with me. I feel like this the place is frequently referred to as 'the victim's last known location', so I say we pay our bills and go take a look at this place."


Mentioned
Rosita (@Small Foxx )

[/fieldbox]

 

[Small Foxx]

[fieldbox=Sister Nature, green, groove]Being the only one sans food and drink, Rosita didn't really have anything to do as she listened except take down ideas on her tablet. Despite the look of vague disinterest painted across her features, Ro was soaking up each and every opinion, calculating a response to address each concern and point made. The only times she looked up was to offer a mild scowl at Robert for calling them kids, to narrow her eyes at Edmund's concern, and to fix Elijah the man-child with a pointed stare. It was hard to believe that he ever worked for an elite covert international organization as anything but maybe the mail-room guy.

There was a silence over the group for a few minutes after the others had offered up their two cents. Rosita took a moment to collect her thoughts before setting her tablet down, folding her hands on the table space allotted to her, and addressing each of them one at a time.

"There's no identity shift, fists of fury," she said to Colleen. "When we started this it wasn't so we could be dicks finding kids that ran away to live their Romeo and Juliet, and not to rough up thugs extorting mom and pop shops. Those are good things, great things, but it wasn't our intention to be knock-off Spider-Mans. Sentinel Services, Trask, Watchdogs, politicians. Those were the people we decided to target, because nobody else is. If we just keep our heads down and keep finding lost pets and being a super-powered neighborhood watch, then what's the difference between us and the assholes like Stark and Rhodes pretending that either there's nothing wrong with how powered individuals are being treated or just looking the other way? We're going to be the ones to kick down their goddamn doors and shine the light on their bullshit."

Turning her head, she pleaded with all of them now, her voice cracking a bit from the emotions rushing through her. "We can't do that unless we start training. We need to share our knowledge with each other and learn to play on each other's strengths and defend each other's weaknesses. And trust each other. How do we do any of that from a Motel 6?" Her fingers went to her eyes as she squeezed them shut and took a deep breath.

"I see an opportunity. We will have space to train, our own rooms with clean beds and no checkout dates, a place to cook, a place to plan. We won't be looking over our shoulders or worrying about the place being bugged. She can renege on us if she wants -- I doubt she will -- but it'll be a very bad day for her if she does. I'm not stupid and I've been doing this long enough to know how to handle it. Always hope for the best but prepare for the worst; so maybe have a little faith, Edmund." Rosita was about to remark how she was more than willing to murder anyone and everyone that tried to slap a pair of cuffs on her, but she caught her words with her teeth and forced a smile. "And what's wrong with motels is that they're shit. When your coffers run dry I don't mind helping. And I don't know about Adam, but I'm not offering to help financial support for a group of weirdos to be basic bitch wannabe-vigilantes living in rooms with so many traces of paradise white on every surface you wake up with a mild high. Why don't you take a blacklight to your room?"

She was getting worked up. Maybe it was a side effect of her mutation; Rosita never just felt things, she experienced them -- her emotions were always amplified if she didn't make a conscious effort to reel herself in. "I kind of know her. In passing. She has four mutants in her family: her son and all three of kids. I met her years ago, back when I was a student at Xavier's. It was only for a few minutes, a brief interaction during orientation at the beginning of a new school year. She was one of the few humans that knew about the place. Her son was really annoying and had a farm reference for literally every occasion, but Axel was sweet and he always talked highly of his mother. She used to send cookies for the entire school after Axel told her that some of the kids kept stealing his." There was a fond smile on her face as she looked at the table and drew random shapes in the faint grease stains from the previous patron's meal.

"Mira's a good person, I have faith in that. But if it turns out she's got a mind to do something terrible... Well, we'll cross that bridge when we get there, but let's hope that we don't have to. I told her that we wanted to help make the world a safer place for people like us, like her family. And I meant it."

Looking up again, Rosita stood and fixed her expression into one of determination, taking Penny's advice and putting it to a vote, praying that at least most of them decided to agree. Rosita couldn't handle one more night of hearing the prostitute next door faking another orgasm for thirty bucks. "Now. If you guys want the chance to finally make something of yourselves, to be part of something bigger than yourselves to be better, and actually have a home, raise your hand. Because Allison is right: we can't do great things if we don't even think we can, and how are we gonna believe in ourselves in the position we're in now?"

[/fieldbox]

 

[Aero Blue]

---

Colleen Hoang and the PSA:
GUYS, MOTELS SERVE NON-PROSTITUTES TOO!

---

Colleen had continued to indulge in strawberry mediocrity, while casually scanning the "Rate-Us!" card that stood opposite the poorly laminated dessert menu and below the complimentary (partially gnawed-through) HB pencil.

Damn, girls.

Adam had the elegantly mastered verve of a true ivy-league scholar, and Colleen's old linguistics professor likely would have fallen in love by the third or fourth sentence. She, herself, was impressed! On the other hand, Colleen was enamored with the monster trio - Ro-Ro, Allison, and Penny. Attitude and casual vernacular conceived, composed and coalesced into speeches that were something 'fierce', as the kids used to say. Or maybe they still said it. Also, Allison wore barbie clothes.

"That's right; I'm Chen Zhen, motherfucker." Colleen conceded the 'thumbs-up' to Ro-Ro's 'Fist of Fury' reference; casual racism was always welcome between friends, especially when it worked on so many levels. "But don't let pretty speeches and diner-democracy distract you all from the fact that Elijah squeaked."

She waited for the waitress to leave before gripping the ruined HB pencil, doing her utmost to ignore the feel of teeth-marked grooves against the tips of her fingers. Almost dutifully, she filled in the first and only the first star out of the group of five, almost solely on the back of the milkshake. And then, right next to 'Comments:', just a single, simple word. When she finished, she held the rating card beneath the table.

A single leathery finger poked out from Colleen's barely open purse (bootlegged Kate Spade, light green), its tip feeling for and finding the slide of the zipper. Before long, Floatie-Hand 1 and Floatie-Hand 2 emerged, floating beneath the table like a puppy fiendin' for a kid's unwanted veggies. Each disembodied hand caressed the surface of the card, lingering over what Colleen had scrawled; 'vacuum'.

Ink dripped as six letters rose from the surface, like doughnuts being procured from a glaze-bath. The curves of c-u-u bent and arranged themselves into an oval bag, while the m bent inwards and became a hose-like implement. A simulacrum of the real thing, a vacuum for the-tres-diminutive-lot. It suckled over the spilt soft drink, like an antelope's snout over water, the typical roar of the vacuum reduced to a soft squeal in its shrunken state. Clandestine cleaning!

"Anyways, Ro, your conclusion is absolutely a loaded question and I should vote against you on principle. But then, I'm all for subverting the spirit of democracy by blindly siding with my homie. If we check it out and the place is all kosher-salt, then I guess I'm cool with it."

 

[Bears]

---

ROBBIE VALENTINE[/hr]

---

The more the Madcaps spoke, the more their minds raced to find the words that could convince, and the more Robert felt that strain of their collective conscious within his head. If he really wanted he could just bite through the pain and focus, he could look into each and every one of their minds and hear the raw, unedited reasoning behind their individual decision. Now that would have been the smart, telepathic thing to do but Robert Valentine was never in the business of good choices.

Robbie decided that the payoff, a clear and all encompassing decision of his own, was not worth the exertion. After all there were members of the Madcaps who were like Rosie in the sense that they kept their hearts on their sleeves and their cards on the table. They didn't need a brain probing to figure out and Robbie found their unruly nature cute. A little dangerous, yeah... but cute.

It was the private Madcaps that were dangerous. Adam, for example, was too manicured for Robbie to fully trust. Penny was of the same vein. Robert considered himself a weird combination of both private and unruly. They knew well of his dysfunction, of his struggle, but Robert always made it a point to never let them know the extent.

Regardless he was done with the diners and the motels and nothing that anyone had said in favor of staying in them had swayed Robbie.

"Yeah. Whatever Floaty-Fist just said. Subverting and whatever the fuck." Robbie mumbled, his lack of effort in outward appearance a mask to the processes of his brain. "​

 

[Jays]

Edmund Finn

Yeah, that was predictable. There it was again, that swaggering overconfidence with an underlying tone of murder and violence. Their idea was solid most of the time - albeit biased and overly optimistic - but the execution consistently questionable. Attitude was even more in abundance that night, however. It seemed that everyone was really, really growing to hate motels. If this vote turned out to be in favor of getting that new place, it was probably more out of resentment for motels more than anything else.

"Language." He reproached absentmindledly at Colleen's cursing, more out of habit then actually expecting her to listen. "And can you be any more inconspicuous, please? Might as well call the Sentinel office and tell them our address right now." At least she had the decency to be somewhat discreet, but everytime anyone used their ability in public they gave him a cold sweat.

He swallowed the rest of his coffee and felt the foul liquid burned through his throat. By god was he getting tired of being on the road. Taylor, his boss was probably raging back in his office, but the man could never bring himself to push or cajole Ender regardless of circumstance. A strange trait for a Prosecutor who otherwise wouldn't stop at anything to bring about justice. Still, Ender had no intention of returning anytime soon with the way the group's turning out in the near future.

"Sure, a home base sounds like a good idea." He said in resignation. Normally he would have voted against, but the excitement he burned from before was wearing off, and he desperately wanted to find a bed and die in it as soon as possible.

 

[CallMeCrimson]

[fieldbox="ELIJAH AND THE IDEA TO STEAL FROM SHIELD, deeppink, solid, 24, audiowide"]

Cheeks flushed a bright pink against his pale skin, he accepted Penny's arm to find his way back to his feet. A huff of breath escaped his lips when his eyes flitted from person to person, looking for some sort of a reaction. Most ignored his (in his completely relevant opinion) terrifying trip backwards. He had faced super powered villains and crazed convicts under the orders of SHIELD yet he squeaked at falling backwards. Director Coulson must be shaking his head at Eli's antics just like old times.

Elijah brushed off invisible-but-totally-there dust from his pants so he wasn't just standing awkwardly. Pulling his chair off the ground, creating a scrapping sound that made him cringe, he adjusted it to how it was previous to his tumble. Just as he took a seat once again, he received a face full of napkins courtesy of she-dragon Kelsey. Huffing a small laugh at her anger towards him he dabbed at the wet spots on his clothes and gave her a annoyingly charming grin that he hoped would get a rise out of her.

It hadn't taken long for a waitress to find her way over with a new soda, more napkins, and an amused smile. Elijah gave the woman a sheepish smile and Adam an appreciative one just as he tuned back into the conversation at hand. He was lost in what they were saying, but he did have a concern.

"What about transportation?" Elijah voiced his opinion when there was a moment of silence for him to reenter the conversation. "Will we be sticking to New Jersey or expanding out into surrounding states? There's no way we can reach every state or another country in time to do a job there." He briefly paused as he gathered his thoughts. "Not to mention with the publicity we're sure to gain as our actions become widely known, the SS will try to track us. If we're not fast enough or discreet enough they will find our base in the first few months. It also brings up the concern of hidden identities, but we can discuss that after we get a base." He muttered, slipping into his agent/spy head space. Sometimes people forget that he trained for this life and it was one of the few things he took seriously. Eli was a former agent and likely one of the more well trained people in the group (which is slightly terrifying that he could be considered a "professional")

"Public transport is not an option, too traceable." He leaned forward and took a sip of his soda carefully, glancing between members of the group. "And I'm never getting on a plane with you guys ever again." Elijah offered the group a wiry grin, mind flashes back to the last time they all were in the air together.

"SHIELD has helicarriers, X-Men have a plane, the Brotherhood has... whatever, and the Avengers have a quinjet. We need something fast and efficient and the only thing I can think of where to get one would be stealing one from my former employers." Shrugging, Eli's eyes flitted around the room for cameras and any audio devices before sighing in realization that he could do nothing about them without his proper equipment. "But I'm definitely up for a base."
[/fieldbox]

 

[Elle Joyner]

[bg=white][/bg]

[bg=white]

The argument seemed to fizzle out as quickly as the carbonation in her painfully flat diet coke, and pushing the drink the way of her mealy homefries, she sat in place and listened as the others continued on, towards what sounded dangerously close to a resolution. Home... It was a novel concept. One that Penny rarely ever gave much thought to. Home for her had never been where the heart was... and she had no cherished childhood memories that stirred at the mention of that word. This was her dysfunctional little family, right here in their diner grunge glory, of that she had finally stopped doubting... but home?

Her gaze jumped to Eli and she smirked as she shook her head. He had a way about him that drove everyone nuts - but deep down.. way, way deep down inside, she was convinced the guy was a genius. Like a genetically engineered Yorkshire puppy or something, "Maybe it's better we stick to just one thing at a time..." She eased in, as she sank back a little in her seat, "Climb the hill, before we start racing for the mountains, hm?"

Turning to Ro, she smiled faintly, "If it was any question, I'm in. But I got a few stipulations. I can't pretend like I got money to burn, and I sure as hell can't afford to put up you knuckleheads, but I wanna contribute where I can. I don't like feelin' like I'm in anyone's debt..." Briefly, ever so faintly, her eyes flickered to Adam, before returning to the fiery mouthpiece again, "And I'd feel a whole lot comfier if I knew you weren't the only ones shellin' out on this venture. "

[/bg]

 

[Mundane Monster]

diners suck.

NAME
Kelsey Vance

NICKNAMES
Kel

INTERACTIONS
everyone

MOOD
Pensive / Irritated / Resolute

FASHION
Look

THEME SONG
Listen

CREDIT
CRYSTAL TEARS MADE THIS CODE!

Post

"Hoang!" Kelsey snapped as Elijah's mess was cleaned up with floating letters. She glowered at Colleen coldly with the intensity of a frazzled suburban mom regretting the conception of her firstborn. If she knew the girl's middle name she would have snarled her entire nomicker. This was exactly why they needed to get their own headquarters, because of risky 'appearances' like that. Also...She was starting to really miss her baby, Lisa who she had left in the care of a co-worker after she'd quit her job to join the madcaps. She really wanted her sweetie pie back in her arms, even if it was while she was living in an abandoned warehouse. She hoped the feline hadn't forgotten her...Cats didn't forget things, right?

"I'm all in." She reiterated as she took the last bite of her disgusting toast. "I don't think we need trademark transportation right now though. We aren't the fucking mystery gang." She grumbled, side-eyeing Elijah. "Don't we all have enough transportation to get all of us where we need to go, even if its two and three to a car? There's no need to get all flashy and inconspicuous now."

Kelsey nodded along to what Penny brought up. Money was always going to be an issue for most of them and even if Rosita and Adam said not to worry about it...Kelsey hated being in debt to others. Debt made you susceptible to all types of bullshit. "I have some funds saved up from when I was working security, but still not that much." Still, more than the average security guard made but then again, it's not like Kelsey had been scrutinizing 'out of place' people perusing a jewelry store.

"What would we be able to do, to contribute? I'm not gonna owe anything to anybody." Kelsey murmured.

 

[Quake]

[fieldbox="Adam Masters, red, solid"]

Adam continued to sip his bitter coffee as the group conversed. For the most part, it seemed like the other members of their ragtag band had no issue with settling down at a home base. Despite his lavish upbringing, he understood the conflict that certain members had with the idea of having their expenses paid for. In his business ventures over the years, he'd seen many people get taken advantage of because of monetary debts.

"Listen, if you want to pay for your part, no one's stopping you. At the same time, we understand not everyone has the finances for these things, so no ones judging you if you take our financial offer. We're all working towards a greater goal, and finances should be the last thing that creates conflict between us."

As Adam finished sharing his two cents, a second Adam walked through the hotel entrance, having just finished his cigarette. There hadn't been any "No Smoking" signs that he'd noticed initially, but Adam always did his best to show proper manners, and it was rude to smoke inside of an enclosed public area, even if it was a run-down hovel like this.

"What are we talking about?" Adam asked quietly, brushing off the remaining ashes that had stuck to his suit. His voice was low, trying not to interrupt any ongoing conversations. In truth, while he had been smoking, he also had been acting as a lookout, and had been outside for quite some time. You could never be to safe, especially in this day and age. Being alert and aware had kept him alive all this time, and he wasn't about to lower his guard just because he now had a bunch of superhuman friends.

"Rosita proposed the idea of moving to a real station. An actual base, which we can work out of and call home," Adam replied. "Currently, we're voting on it."

"Oh. Well I'm all for it. My vote counts, right?"
"That's a good question. I know mine does."
"Oh." Adam sighed. "So what you're saying is…" Adam's statement trailed off, his expression of discontentment quite clear. "Well anyway, so be it. We can't all be special can we? Say, what are you drinking?"
"Coffee." Adam paused. "Look, I apologize. I didn't mean it like that. Here, you can have the rest. " Adam handed him the mug; a peace offering, even if it was already half drank.

Accepting the drink, Adam smirked briefly before taking a quick sip of the caffeinated beverage. Instantly, he scrunched up his nose.

"Wow, really taste the beans in this one."
[/fieldbox]​

 

[MST3K 4ever]

[fieldbox="Allison, blue, dashed, 10, Tahoma"]

Allison took another swig of her Diet Coke as the debate seemed like it was coming to a vote then and there. She was hoping to see the base before making her vote known, but such was the way of the group. "Take our chances and hope we don't regret it later" seemed to be their unofficial motto Well, that was how Allison saw it. Colleen was an unofficial "yes" pending the inspection of the base, and that was the way that Allison was leaning but she didn't have the moxie that Colleen had to make it sound convincing like her. Besides Allison trusted Rosita with her life, and if she was willing to vouch for Mira that was good enough for her. Even Penny and Kelsey were on-board with this. Of course, they told everyone that in their own "charming" way.

It was when Kelsey and Penny brought up the matter of money that gave Allison cause to pause for a moment. Her mind briefly flashed back to the time when her father created the domino styled earrings. He was helping her but there was condition on it, and Allison's mom wasn't exactly thrilled that her daughter now had the ability to hide in the kitchen cabinets and scare her mom when she opened them from time to time. Although, Allison loved the first time she did that and made her mom drop her lunch. Then Elijah brought up the thing about secret identities and the SS tracking them. Allison didn't have to worry about them too much, but Trask Industries was another issue. Her dad did what he could to cover up what he did for Allison, but there were times she couldn't help but feel like that they were trying to track her down.

Suddenly being a part of the group weighed heavily on Allison. She set her Diet Coke down and looked out the window for a moment. Allison saw her reflection in the window mixed in with the group. She very quickly took stock of the situation and looked back at the group. Allison said, "Look, in terms of financing from me. Yeah, I got some money in my account and I got a solid, if not spectacular, reputation in the photography community." She shrugged her shoulders slightly and said with a smirk, "What can I say? I know I'm good I just don't have to talk about it, but I can free-lance if I have to and I can do all that online that's not a problem. So I can do something in terms of finances." Allison let out an exhale and said, "However, my issues are concerning my family." Looking around the group she said, "When my dad fixed my size issues with these…" Allison gently brushed her domino earrings and said, "He told me it was a one-time deal. If anything happened to them that was it I was on my own, and if anything does happen to them I'm stuck at six-inches tall unless we break into Trask Industries and steal another hunk of the meteorite or hope another one like this one crashes to earth. Which by the way there's a better chance of Captain America walking in here right now and asking me to marry him then that happening." She looked at Edmund and said, "You should know my second issue, right? My mom." Allison took another drink and then set the now empty can down. She said, "My mom is barely tolerant of the big-name heroes like Spider-Man, Daredevil and the others. If she had her way about them they would all be dragged into court, unmasked, and then given life in front of a firing squad. Imagine if she found out her daughter was not only getting involved with vigilantism, but if the media did as well. J. Jonah Jameson would have a field day with the banner headline, 'Hey look ma! I'm a vigliante!' Then a picture of me with the caption underneath, 'actual size.'"

Allison shook her head and said, "Not as clear cut for me as it was five minutes ago." She stopped shaking her head and focused in on everyone. Allison nodded said, "All that being said, there is no other group that I would be willing to do this for. I figure if I sacrifice one family I will still have this one." Allison let out a small smile and said, "Okay if we're gonna to do this then let's make it a worthwhile thing. I vote yes for the base."

Interactions/Mentions:

Rosita (@Small Foxx )
Colleen (@Shizuochan )
Kelsey (@Cosmic Penguin )
Penny (@Elle Joyner)
Elijah (@CallMeCrimson)
Edmund (@Jays)

[/fieldbox]

 

[Small Foxx]

[fieldbox=Sister Nature, green, groove]Rosita's lips twitched into a wry smile at Colleen's antics. She returned the thumbs up. "I don't know whether I should be enthralled or disturbed by your blind faith in me, but I love it. You're my favorite minion," she teased. Her expression became a little more serious as each member of the team voiced their final opinion and their votes. Of course, Robbie seemed to just go along with them ––Ro wondered if he really agreed that it was a sound choice, or if he just didn't want to put forth the effort of weighing pros and cons. It wasn't surprising, of course. What actually was surprising: Edmund voted in favor of the base. She offered both men a nod of quiet thanks before directing a harsh glare at Elijah.

As much as she disliked her family, it was hard to not think of her sister with Elijah around. They were both SHIELD agents, after all. Though, after a helecarrier dropped from the sky and HYDRA became exposed she began to wonder if her sister was actually a HYDRA double-agent. Maybe her whole family. But Elijah's... antics diverted that train of thought. Between his immature behavior, his clumsiness, and now this ridiculous idea ––fantasy, really – to steal equipment from an organization deemed criminal by the entire world, an organization with people possessing unbelievable skills and intellect, trained to handle people like the Madcaps? She wasn't sure whether to be furious or dumbstruck that he'd even consider it a possibility. She wondered how it was possible that someone like Elijah could have ever been a member of such an organization.

Then again, she'd never seen him in a fight.

Following Penny and Kelsey's approvals and concerns along with Adam and Adam's input ––and Allison's heartfelt, albeit strange response, Rosita took a deep breath and gave another silent nod. They were gonna do this. "First of all, thank you all for agreeing. Secondly––" she paused and shot another glare at Elijah "––we're not stealing from SHIELD. Do you not know who Fitz-Simmons is? Agent Johnson? In case you don't, that's okay because I do. I guarantee that their security is top of the line even while they're living like ghosts – which is why the government hasn't been able to find or capture them yet. Their vehicles probably all have trackers on them. I took three years of computer engineering, but disabling a SHIELD tracker is way out of my range. Any of you fancy yourselves as Mr. Robot? If so, you can go ahead and do it. Alone. SHIELD is an entire trained organization of geniuses and masters of combat and strategy; we haven't even taken on Watchdogs or Sentinel Services yet and you think we're ready to break into SHIELD and hijack their shit? Let's start with the small potatoes first, okay?"

She rubbed her temples irately, muttering about death wishes and a strong desire to... well, the rest was in Italian, but it didn't sound like it was anything polite. But she resumed a smile after a small rant that she wished she'd done mentally instead of sitting there looking like a psycho about to snap. Other Adam was greeted with a roll of her eyes and an amused grin that quickly shifted to the perky one of the bunch. "Okay. So..." Her eyebrows pinched together as expressions of concern and confusion intermingled along her features. "Okay. Not sure where that came from, but... Thank you." There was a pause that followed wherein her gaze slowly drifted to the two women left unaddressed.

"As far as your concerns, I get that. And I agree with Adam: if you guys wanna pay out of pocket to help with the payment for the base, that's your decision. Even so, personally, I'm not sure you'll feel any less in debt unless you both have an upwards of twenty grand." She gave them both her best apology eyes before continuing in her best negotiation voice. "But, not paying in cash doesn't mean you're getting a free ride. Adam and I handle the finances because we have the means, and we don't want any of you feeling like you're in debt to us because of that. This team, dare I say, is comparable to a married, dysfunctional couple: not being the one paying the bills doesn't mean you're indebted or not contributing; actively participating in the relationship -- in this team -- is your contribution and it keeps us together. If you're hellbent on contributing financially or materially, might I suggest looking into the purchase of surveillance equipment, weapons, maybe some deer stands?"

Pausing again, she grabbed her tablet and pulled up a new set of notes that she began to read from. "The factory is pretty big – it's three stories – and we'll all need to pull our weight to make this happen. My suggestion is that we use the ground floor for a sort of den-slash-meeting room, the kitchen, the pantry, the laundry room, and, of course the garage. Second floor has just enough space that I can put up walls and, presto change-o, we got bedrooms and bathrooms. Third floor for armory and training purposes? But, I'm getting ahead of myself; we can talk about all that after you guys see it. Let's go ahead and wrap this artery-clogging, heart-attack-inducing excuse for a breakfast up and get the hell out of this town. Tuckerton's only an hour away and the sooner we start this, the better."

[/fieldbox]