Statistically Unlikely

“Okay, what about ‘The Wardens’…” Someone besides Kyle groaned.

“Goddammit Robert, can’t you be a little more creative than that?” asked Carl, who sat across the table.

“Hey, I don’t see you coming up with anything.” Robert snapped back.

“We could call ourselves the Knights of the Round Table,” Gladys but in.

“What does that name have anything to do with us? Yes, we’re sitting around a circular table in the conference room, but that’s it!” Sharon yelled, throwing her arms in the air.

“Well, the armor we have looks kind of like knight’s armor an-, “ Gladys mumbled, but was cut off by Richard.

“And Kyle here is the only one who knows how to use it,” Richard finished, pointing his thumb Kyle’s way. “Plus, pretty much every suit we have here isn’t working at one-hundred percent. We only have one suit that’s even close to that.”

“We could call ourselves the Big 11, or something.” Dan suggested.

“But what about when we got more members? I thought we were planning to expand.” Randy threw in.

“If we expand…” Jeffery mumbled.

“Alright, everyone can just calm down.” Carl said, raising his hands in the air, trying to placate the others.  “We can decide on a name later. Besides, Kyle has to go out on patrol soon. Trevor should be here in a bit.”

Kyle nodded back at Carl, who was looking his way. “Yea, he should be here in a couple of minutes. I should head out soon, so I suppose this little meeting is over for now.” Everyone started getting up to leave, mumbling amongst themselves, and Kyle waited until the room was empty to leave himself.

------------


Walking through the halls of the underground bunker was a rather lonely affair, the walls being largely devoid of people, and rather dusty. The building had been made with a staff of around one-hundred people in mind, and now there were barely ten. Those ten people were Carl Anderson, Robert Dycus, Gladys Mason, Sharon Shelby, Richard Ramirez, Dan Norman, Randy Hall, and Trevor Hayden. These people, and himself, were the only ones left from Project Goliath that Kyle could find, and recruit. Not many that he had found were willing to join with a dead project, or had already found other employment that they were unwilling to leave.

The armory was in a similar affair, a few racks were lined with even fewer guns, all of them covered in dust. The guns weren’t what were important here however. Against the far wall, sitting in an open tube was a suit of Assault Armor, which was Project Goliath’s way of calling something power armor without actually calling it power armor, and it was the only thing that looked like it had been taken care of in the last month in the room. It was a simple matter, putting it on. He’d gone through the routine hundreds of times during training, and it was honestly rather comforting to Kyle, having the thing on again. Kyle decided against bringing any guns, as he wasn’t planning on actually shooting and killing anybody, though he did keep the combat knife that was strapped onto his chest.

-------------

About half an hour later, Kyle found himself sitting in the back of a helicopter, with Trevor sitting in the pilot’s seat, driving across Los Angeles, looking for crime to fight, with nothing but the sound of the helicopter’s rotor to break the silence. That is, until Trevor started talking. “So… Remind me again why we’re doing this?”

“Because,” Kyle said with a sigh, “Apparently, we voted unanimously to go out and get our name out, though we apparently can’t actually decide on a name.”

“Riiiight,” Trevor responded, with a bit of a drawl. “Well, we ain’t stopping for anything less than a bank robbery, you got that?”

As Kyle was about to respond, the sound of a muffled explosion caught both their attentions, and they both looked down to see a fireball exploding in front of a bank building made of brick. Kyle turned towards Trevor, who just glared at back. “Don’t you dare say anything…” he remarked as he lowered the helicopter towards the disturbance. Kyle hopped out once the helicopter started hovering over the roof of the bank, landing down on the street below, and cushioning his fall by tucking into a roll, though it wasn’t exactly necessary thanks to his cybernetic limbs and armor. Standing up, Kyle noted that the street was largely emptied of people after the explosion, and that there looked to be three men in ski masks standing in the door way of the bank, the people inside cowering. Possibly because one of them was holding a ball of fire in his hands. Right. The thug standing next to Pyro, as Kyle designated in his head, was rather slim, and held a pistol in his hand, waving it around in the air while shouting for the people’s undivided attention, which he surely had, while the man standing to the obvious metahuman’s right looked like he had been on steroids, and stood at least six feet tall, and held his fist in his palm in a threatening manner. So, there was at least one metahuman with fire powers, and a gunman, with a third that simply looked like muscle, though his lack of a weapon meant he was either overconfident, or had some special power of his own. Kyle sighed, as he started to walk up the steps to the bank.

"You're a ways from home, being out here in Cali."
"Yeah, we've got to meet up with some colleagues in Silicon Valley tomorrow, and Jen's got a few meetings to attend in Los Angeles. Nice of you to let us stay here, Greg. And use the range."
"Eh, friends in need and all that. Always good to have someone to shoot with, too."
Greg's last few words hung in the silence, implying an unfinished thought, as the setting sun glinted off of the pistol Lawrence held.
“Damn better shot than you were three years ago, too.” Greg gave Lawrence a quizzical look, pausing again.
“You and Jen, you’re serious about this ‘hero’ shit, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Just don’t die, all right? I’d tell you not to get hurt, but I figure that comes with the business. And if either of you ever need anything, my doors are open.”
“That’s very generous of you, Greg. It’s not your place to worry about us, though.”
“Y’see, Larry, that’s why I’ve got to do it. Want to pop a few more birdies?”
“I’d love to, though we’d best be quick. Got an early morning tomorrow, and many long days ahead.”


~~


Okay, met with Allen…
Picked up suits…
Confirmed room reservations…
Jen went down her mental checklist as she drove, not so much out of necessity, but as a way to calm down. She’d had the suits flown out here, and had explicitly said that under no circumstances were the boxes to be searched. The fools at the transit authority had done it anyway. There wasn’t much to be worried about, though, the crates were surplus from Oculus, and had that nice DARPA logo stamped on them. Illiterate wretches could read that one well enough; hopefully, they’d be too scared to report it.
A single thought interrupted her mental rant: Aw hell

The silver pickup swerved off the road as a ball of fire shot past it, plowing into a concrete barrier as the flame impacted the doorway of a bank. Jen had aimed the driver’s side towards the barrier, knowing that she would survive the collision more or less intact. Unfortunately, the crumpling of the vehicle left her door jammed, trapping her in, if only for the moment. It’d delay her, sure, but she still had to get her suit on. Lawrence’s was light enough to fit under heavy clothing, and the heat made for a good test of the environment regulators.

It took a minute to bend the door frame back enough to open it; by then, Array was walking towards the bank, intent on confronting a group of criminals making their way inside, at least one of them clearly a metahuman. She noted a helicopter hovering above the bank, military-looking personnel dropping from it. Hopefully, they were friendly, neither of the suits had been live-fire tested yet, and she did not want to go up against anyone who had heavier firepower at their disposal.

Jen didn’t waste any time as she leapt up onto the bed of the truck, where the crate with her suit in it was secured. The wooden boards splintered and cracked apart as she dug her hands into a corner, tearing a side off of it. She threw off her lab coat; she needed the area her arms and back offered, and her sleeveless athletic top would be thin enough to not interrupt her power supply.

The moment her suit was sealed, Jen activated her power. Every inch of unclothed skin, each strand of hair, glowing brightly, feeding the suit with energy.

She smiled behind the opaque face-mask of her helmet as she heard the satisfying ‘clink’ of an ammunition belt loading into a gun, along with the light hum of the suit’s mechanism.

Chromatica was, at last, ready to fight.

Kyle turned around as he heard the sound of splintering wood. He saw an armored figure approaching, and a female tearing open a wooden crate. The armored figure was probably going to be someone of importance to the situation, and it was possible that the woman behind the figure was with him as well. Deciding that he could handle them later, Kyle wondered, just for a second, how the three bank robbers didn’t hear the helicopter above them. Perhaps they just hadn’t processed it yet? Kyle quickly shoved this though out of his mind as he turned to face the three thugs, only to see that they were looking at him. The pyro also had a fireball in his hands, his hand behind his head, ready to throw it at him. The thought, oh shit, ran through Kyle’s head.

Kyle threw himself off to the side of the stairs, quickly coming back into a standing position, and activated his cloak, watching as Pyro turned towards the gunman, and shouted something at him, while waving towards the bank, only to turn back to find Kyle gone. Or, to be more exact, invisible.

Lawrence approached the bank at a relaxed pace, though his posture was stern and his movements were rigid, not unlike the slow march of a soldier.

His armor reflected the bright sunlight of the day, casting light onto the dust scattered by the explosion. Lingering flames licked the edges of the ruined doorway, framing the three criminals. Lawrence saw people cowering inside.

Part of him wished that his 'debut' as a crime fighter was a bit more glorious than this, though the better part of him knew that didn't matter. He reached out with his power, looking for the mirror-based switches in his suit. Using his ability required only thought, and building his suit with that in mind let his weapons be controlled at will.

He adjusted a laser, setting it to a low wattage, and fired a pulse at each member of the trio. It wouldn't do harm, but it would feel like they'd been hit by scalding water.

"Look, that's just a little heat." He said, his voice distorted by his helmet. "Just surrender nicely, and I won't need to turn it to the cutter setting."

Not many folks would presume someone with a name like "Jimbo the Marimbo" would possess an excess of brain cells. And indeed, this particular man, so named, did not. Jimbo didn't even know what the word marimba meant, let alone how to properly pronounce it. However, as mutant in-bred bank-robbing hicks go, he was pretty smart. Or at least possessed enough raw charisma to direct his dumber brothers around. Jimbo, being tougher than a moose on PCP, doesn't even notice the laser.

Kerosene Kenny, the youngest bank robber and brother-in-arms doesn't notice the heat either, as he is currently in the process of setting fire to a rather upset-looking teller. While Kenny was without doubt the dumbest of the three mutant in-bred bank-robbing hicks, he might very well have been the most handsome and least deformed of the bunch. But the ability to create fire at will doesn't automatically confer any special resistance, and Kenny was never a very careful man...

The third and final mutant in-bred bank-robbing hick is named Timmy the Tick--and he holds the most fitting name of the three. His nose and ears are three sizes too large for his face, and what they don't cover is a mass of scars. Timmy was born a good twenty years earlier than Kenny or Jimbo. He shakes all over, beady eyes darting everywhere, hands trembling in anticipation. Although Kenny and Jimbo don't trust Timmy one bit, and don't even really think of him as a brother, Timmy is their only other relative with useful superpowers. Timmy possesses superhuman agility and reflexes.

Now, Kenny and Jimbo could never really tell if Timmy really was super fast, or if all those shakes were just caused by too much coke. But, in any case, the moment Array steps into sight, Timmy hollers for his brothers. "Boyas, that there robit's tryin' to steel our bank! Get 'em!"

All three mutant in-bred bank-robbing hicks turn to face Array, and are promptly blinded by his laser. They scream curses and clutch at their eyes. Kenny casts a wave of fire in Array's general direction, melting the doorway again and igniting a civilian.

Kyle watched as Kenny throw out a wave of flame, setting a civilian on fire. That was not good. What was good, however, was the fact that the three bank robbers seemed to be blinded and that the fourth figure seemed to be on his side, at least in fighting the thugs. Deciding that Kenny was probably the most dangerous target, Kyle charged forth; rushing at him and bringing his fist back, bring to bear his enhanced strength and speed as he socked him in the stomach, flickering back into visibility as his fist connected with the thug. Kyle was already turning to face Timmy, the other thug with the handgun the moment he finished his attack.

Array flinched as the ball of flames rolled over him, the flare of the light blinding him, if only momentarily, as his helmet's visor dimmed to protect his eyes. He felt the suit warm up, then cool down, in short fashion.
"Not the most ideal coolant test... Could've been cooked, or at least burned" he thought, grimly.
Hearing the screams of the civilians, he realized that he had to end this, fast.
He adjusted the setting on his infrared laser. Now, a single pulse would burn. Sustained ones could melt flesh, even cause third degree burns.

"I warned you." He said, his voice deep.
Then he opened fire, primarily at the flame-maker. His onslaught would be careful, though, to avoid friendly fire. Especially so, when one of the mysterious armored figures disappeared, and reappeared to strike at the pyro.

~~

The first fireball had blown out the door, and left a lingering burn that would easily be taken care of by the sprinklers. The second had set the building's front alight, sending acrid black smoke into the air.

Array was in combat, which meant that Chromatica had to do damage control. And she hated damage control.

To this end, she chose the best solution. She kicked the cap off of a nearby fire hydrant, the edge of her armor's boot neatly prying the metal off as the bolts snapped, and she bent the remaining bits into a decent nozzle with a few more jabs.

She sprinted back to the building, her gait awkward due to the armor. With ease she removed the burning civilian from the building, placed them under the hydrant's spray, and hurried back inside.
She looked for a target; the fire thrower was already engaged, and the one with the gun seemed like he would be tricky to deal with. The last one was obviously either inhumanly strong, durable, or both. A perfect target.
So she charged the man, bringing her fists up, ready to pummel him with the spiked, hardened gauntlets.

Kyle had turned to meet face-to-face with the man with the handgun, only to find that not only did the thug already have the pistol pointed at his head, he was also being lifted off the ground. Kyle suddenly found himself being held at the neck and waist, as well as lifted over the head of the third thug. So those muscles aren’t all from steroids , Kyle thought, before he was bodily hurled across the street, impacting the building opposite the bank with a rather loud ‘thud’, the brick behind him cracking from the force, as he dropped to the floor.

Kyle groaned as he pushed himself onto his elbows and knees, dimly noting in his addled mind that the gunman seemed to be having a quick shouting match with the one with super strength, before they both remembered that there was another combatant. The gunman spun and quickly began to unload his pistol into Array, his finger almost a blur as he pulled the trigger over and over, while the big one roared a battle cry that sounded more like an animal dying, and charged him as well.

Timmy always knew best.  Or at least knew better than Kenny, who invariably ended up regretting taking his older brother's advice.  Now, Kenny was pretty stubborn--even for a mutant in-bred bank-robbing hick.  And Kenny wasn't inclined to listen to anyone advising him on what to eat in the morning--not even wise old Timmy.
And so, before hopping in the family truck and cruising into town, Kenny had enjoyed a healthy breakfast of two eggs, three slices of bacon, one quart of mayonase and half a gallon of moonshine.
Such a meal would have slain a lesser man, but Kenny had been getting along just fine--until he got punched in the gut by Robocop.

Kenny vomits the entire contents of his stomach--now on fire--all over Kyle, then rolls over and passes out.


Timmy the Tick really didn't live up to all his rhetoric on healthy lifestyle choices.  Since the morning, he had dranken six cups of coffee and done an ungodly amount of cocaine, all so he could "stay sharp" during the heist.  If before his reflexes were superhuman, now he was a god.  In the time it took Kyle to cross the room and incapacitate his brother, Timmy had emptied his revolver at the cyborg, then drawn a second gun and opened up on Array.  Unfortunately for Timmy, speed and speed don't mix well, and no level of superhuman reflexes can compensate for jitters of this magnitude.  Timmy shakes like he just totalled Haiti.
Consequently, all six shots go wide, hitting everything but his target.  No matter--in a moment another gun is in his hands, just in time to see Kenny upchucking his breakfast.

"Now look what you done did."  Jimbo thunders, grabbing the offending metal man and chucking him through the nearest window.  An instant later, Array attacks with his laser.  
Timmy freaks out, and takes cover behind a filing cabnet, emptying his third pistol at Array.
Kenny, already unconscious, drools.
Jimbo puts on shades and doesn't give a fuck.

Array's lasers darted about the room. He didn't bother with the pyro, once the man was downed. The strung-out fellow with the guns sped towards a cabinet as the invisible beams fell upon him, raking across his torso, burning clothes in their wake. They followed as he dove for cover, leaving smoldering streaks of black on the finished wood. The bullets from the gunman's frantic firing mostly went wide, but a few struck, though they did little damage beyond a few scratches or cracks on the surface finish of Array's armor.
In contrast to his fellows, the muscled one took the energy blasts without a care, his skin reacted as if it had seen a bit too much sun, leaving awkward tans and a few streaks of sunburn. The brute wasn't entirely foolish, though, electing to don a pair of sunglasses.


Unfortunate for him, though, that Chromatica's right fist soon connected with his face, followed up by a jab to the stomach from her left. Given his previous durability, he'd likely survive. That couldn't be said for the broken up plastic.

Kyle climbed out the window he was thrown into with a groan. Partly from the fact that he was thrown into a building, and partly from the fact that he now realized he was covered in flaming vomit. It wasn’t exactly a good day for him. Looking back to the fight, he saw that the two other armored figures seemed to be doing his job for him, one of them firing a laser at the one that seemed to carry a lot of handguns, and the other one punching the large brute twice, in the face and in the stomach.

Deciding to help out, and get a bit of revenge on the one who tossed him around like a toy, Kyle activated his cloak again. He quickly dashed past Array, and Chromatica, and Jimbo, trusting the sound of combat to mask him. Once he was in the dead center of the bank, Kyle turned around, and tackled Jimbo, putting all of his augmented strength into pushing him over, and hoping that it would be enough.

Chromatica's punchs knock the wind out of Jimbo's lungs and the teeth out of his mouth. His bluster gone, he tries to swing back. But at that very moment, Robocop decides he wants a piggy-back ride.

Caught off-guard by the cyborg's tackle, Jimbo stumbles but rallies, doing his best impression of an epileptic grizzly bear, succeeding in shaking the tin man off him.

The mutant in-bred bank-robbing hicks are losing a lot. Timmy, his nerves, and his skin. Kenny, his breakfast. Jimbo, his shades, teeth, and kidneys. Timmy is crouched behind the filing cabnet, hands too scorched to hold a gun. Kenny, still unconcious on the floor, set aflame by his own vomit. Jimbo, battered and bruised, his skin blistering under Array's gaze.
The cost of war. But all hope is not lost.

Outnumbered and--following Timmy's gross expenditure of ammunition--outgunned, Jimbo begins shouting incoherently through a mouthfull of blood and broken teeth.
"Ahm gonner--"
Jimbo ducks low, under Chromatica's swing, and manages to grab her leg.
"--show yew--"
With superhuman strength he pulls the knight in shining armor off her feet, grabbing her other leg, and swings her like a baseball bat at Kyle.
"--why they call me tha Mar-im-bo!"

One moment, Chromatica was pulling her arm back for another swing. The next, and she was awkwardly slung over the giant ruffian's shoulder. Judging from the fading pain on the back of her head and neck, she'd been used as a club.

Had to give the brute credit for clever tactics, though perhaps not well thought out, since it had left him exposed. Chromatica grabbed the back of Jimbo's head with one hand, and clamped the other on his neck. For a bit of added fun, she set off a quick laser pulse from an optic on her palm, igniting the man's close cut hair.

Now, she just had to hold on long enough for the blood choke to work.