Gunslinger doesn't have a custom title currently.
Location: No Information
Born: No Information
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Character Quote: Aim to please. Shoot to kill
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Joined: 13-January 17
Last Seen: Apr 20 2018, 11:54 PM
Local Time: Apr 25 2018, 02:17 PM
148 posts (0.3 per day)
( 1.15% of total forum posts )
Mar 30 2018, 11:52 AM
3-15-2017 9:57 pm
[doHTML]<p class="triangle-isosceles">Hana, this is John. Myself and a few others are going to investigate a very weird murder scene. The killer is there. Could you please access the camera features of my phone to send video and audio to the adults so they can make sure we don't miss something? </p>[/doHTML]Fifteen seconds later:
[doHTML]<p class="triangle-isosceles">I am an idiot for saying 'this is John' when this thing tells you who it is, aren't I?</p>[/doHTML]Faust
Mar 19 2018, 12:51 AM
The thought of were to take Ion
on a date had been simple.
if there was one thing both the ionic manipulator and the detective in training had in common, it was a love of knowledge. Of information. Of learning.
So finding a nice little bookstore with a cafe in it seemed a pretty good bet.
From what he had seen looking online, the Housing Works Bookstore Cafe seemed like a good bet. Books. Stuff to drink and snack on. And a part of the money went to AIDS research. He figured it was a good bet all around as it seemed like a nice place to hang out with a beautiful girl, look at some books, and even help out others by paying for a few.
Having slipped on a better pair of boots and jeans, and having a nice pressed shirt on, John had slipped on both hat and a decent length coat, and had met Liv and walked with her to his truck. Both got in and chatted on the way on there date, with John smiling at the fact that he was getting to simply spend some time with a smart and clever woman.
While her pink electric glow would dissuade many, John thought that it suited her, accenting her well and making a nice contrast with her dark hair.
As they got to Manhattan, Radigan was happy that he hadn't told her where they were going, just that they were going out to have some simple fun after the events in the Savage Land. Though as they parked and made their way to the bookstore, John held open the door and smiled as he breathed in. "Love the scent of books," John admitted. "And thought it seemed like a place you might like."
Mar 4 2018, 10:58 PM
While not the best at modern computers due to the handicap of missing on about 20 years of development, John Radigan had learned the basics. And also knew that said programs helped him with some design and planning.
So he found himself in the computer lab, working on a few projects.
The first was simple. He was working on a system to convert the decorative round conchoes on his western belts into concealed items, such as highly pressurized gasses and acids. The idea was a system that would lock them in place until a concealed piece was pressed to release, and a second one either allowed it to erupt on impact or set a timer to go off.
The second and third items were simpler. It was designing a pair of custom revolvers, unlike those currently in production and use. Chambered in .45 Colt and capable of using a convertible cylinder for .45 acp ammo, the custom weapons were taking standard Remington 1860 revolvers and extensively modifying them. Adding a spring in the handle and reworking the trigger for double action weapons. New barrels for smokeless powder as opposed to the black powder they normally used. Rechambering for new rounds. Setting one up for a left opening cylinder and the other for a right hand opening cylinder.
Purely to use with the gun belt and holster system that himself, Trevor, and their grandfather were putting together.
If it worked, it was going to be sweet. But if not..... this was going to be a lot of work and hours down the shitter.
As it was, he had a schematic for the revolvers up, and was measuring the recessed cylinder fluting on the outside of the cylinder that held the ammo. He was working out the trigonometry and geometry on a scratch pad, wanting the raised areas on the cylinder to hit the small raised lumps on the gun belt in front of the holster just right. Cause if it all worked right, he'd be able to use the device inside the gun belt to spread open the bullet loops, letting a round fall in as the gun cylinder rolled under them for a fast reload.
Letting out a sigh, he ran his fingers through his hair as he tinkered with it, muttering "It'll be sweet if if works. Though kind of wish grandpa would have built them instead of just telling us to plan it out and get it done with him supervising via internet chat and video calls." Though as old as his grandfather was, couldn't say that it was beneficial for the old man to come out to New York. That and if some of them thought he was bad, Grandpa Radigan would induce strokes by his presence and opinions. Shadowcat
Jan 9 2018, 09:56 PM
There were a few nice things about living at the school. Namely that he had a partial pension and no real expenses. Thus letting him buy a shitload of pizza of different sorts, included the dreaded pineapple and vegetarian varieties.
It was weird as hell, but he also wasn't going to judge too harshly.
Looking at the list of people, he didn't know all of the people on his team. But he had learned what he could about them ability wise. Realistically, it was a pretty broad collection of skills and abilities.
And he had also evaluated their teacher.
His view on Merry was she was impulsive. Acted before considering her actions. And as such, there was a decent chance that she would be indisposed before they could learn anything.
Which put them at a distinct disadvantage. Especially given her long standing flirtation with death.
So he wanted the team he was on to get together. To talk. To know they could call on each other in a crunch situation and know the strengths and weaknesses of each other.
Add to that the fact he suspected that half of the faculty was composed of idiots or the insane, and he wanted to make sure that there was at least a solid core of people who could survive whatever was thrown at them. He didn't expect all of them to want to be X-Men in the future, but he did know that all of them wanted to hone their powers, to learn and try to figure out where they stood in the world.
Given the variety of powers they had, Radigan thought it was a solid group. The key was going to be getting everyone where they realized they had a group they could call upon. A group capable of being used when they didn't want to bother with the authority structure of the school.
So he got some pizza and waited, hat on a counter and leaning back with his tan western shirt and blue jeans, well worn boots on tapping on the floor. Daisy Chain Erebus Faust Honeybear Phantom Scion Speed WallflowerOOC: This is not a required thread. Just putting something up for Gamma to do this RO so they can at least know each other.
Dec 11 2017, 11:20 PM
John had learned a lot in his time deaged.
A lot due to necessity though.
He had contacted former partners, let them know he had been deaged. Which had been a shock. But they had gotten in touch with people, and as such had been willing to run a face through facial recognition. And a name came back. Mercer Perkins.
With a name came an address. With a name came an ability to dig through information. To act like a journalism student picking through yearbooks. Talking with people who remembered him. Seeing what the family did for a living. Seeing what rumors he could find out.
But none told him the most important part.
Namely, the vile slug in human form had been in a mutant bar. One that kept baseline humans out.
So what power did the thing have?
John was under no illusions. He was hunting a predator. While he was sure that Mercer THOUGHT he was an alpha wolf, an apex predator, in reality he was nothing but a vulture. Rendering people defenseless, abusing them, and trusting in the haze of chemicals and shock and confusion to let him ease away without harm, trusting in him being rich and white to remove the limited amount of risk to him.
When in reality the man was a rapist.
One who drugged others, had likely done so in the past, and likely would do so in the future.
So how does one figure out what such a person has for powers? It was a simple thing. Spoiled. Rich. Essentially Julian times a thousand with a lack of heart or soul. What was the one person they would let in, but also not thing twice about?
Anyone in some sort of service occupation.
So John had found both a cheap panel van (which was cheap enough to be likely stolen) and a utility jumpsuit. Putting on a magnetic decal that he could peel off advertising it as a plumbing service, he had his jumpsuit match and had taken a large tool box with him, having snuck close and set up a small leak in the house.
Intercepting the call due to having already set up a small dish to intercept it, he had made the arrangements and pulled up, slowly working on it until the man had left in frustration. He'd set a small tracker on the man's winter coat, thin and translucent, flexible and near invisible. And as the Mercer left, John then finished swapping out the pipe and then made his rounds.
Small bugs. Small button cameras. Added little trackers to shoes and other coats.
Then he simply went to the van after locking up behind himself, driving a street or two away as he had mentioned he had another job. Parking and then climbing in the back, John turned on the audio and started to listen, looking at the rotating scenes and seeing what the tracker said.
Hell. Powers might not matter if he caught the bastard in the act. Just sneak up on him and blow the guy's brains across the room. Though he would prefer giving the man a chance to surrender. IonX-23