Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-26104528-20150531022109/@comment-26130256-20150625223432

''If you want your men to act like thugs, allow them to dress like thugs. But if you want your men to act like professionals, have them dress like it.''  So said Jasper Cardamom, founder of the great crime family, and over the years his words had been immortalized in books on business, fashion, and psychology. Not bad, for an old gangster.

It was with this philosophy that the family paid an exorbitant sum of money to a small-time Vacuan armorer for the creation of their combat suits, as well as an agreement to only sell his top-of-the-line gear to the family. Clothes that could contribute to instead of hinder a soldier's fighting ability, provide a modicum of protection, and still look good enough for any fancy parties you had later that evening. Trousers that allowed the wearer to do the splits without fear of ripping, a buttoned shirt thin enough to be worn under heavier armor without discomfort, and a suit coat custom-made to allow freedom of movement with only minimal effect on the cut. All loaded with hidden pockets and made of bullet resistant fabrics. And in Azulius's particular case, his favorite shade of blue, with bright aqua pinstripes.

He had finished changing his clothes and loading his gear into his new collection of pockets, when his scroll rang. The message nearly knocked the magician over, but he kept his footing. ''Fritz? Stahlfritz Panzier? Now it all makes sense. He wasn't invisible with some kind of new technology, he was using his Semblance! But what was all this about a bet? Did I really almost die a dozen times today because of a bet? I really need a drink.  Or to go get some answers. Ideally, both.''  Luckily for his search, CATSAI had helpfully tagged Stahlfriz's location at the time of sending the message, as well as a prediction of the path of the rogue tanker. Returning Roaring Moxie to her holster, Azulius took off in the directions on his scroll, resolving to have his head properly examined once this whole mess was over.

=
By sheer good fortune, Violet had found two more RPGs under the seats of the Bullhead, a sentence she never imagined she would say with such happiness. Terrorist attacks have a way of altering one's priorities.

"Boss, they're pulling out HMGs up there!  We don't have the kind of armor to be playing chicken here!" Dijon shouted, trying to keep the aircraft steady while evading as much gunfire as possible.

"Then hold us steady!" she replied cuttingly. "I'd love to think the VPD can stop that thing, but no one in our family has ever gotten anything done by trusting the law!" And with that parting shot, she aimed and fired both rockets at the tanker, one at the engine block and one at the cockpit, praying to any gods who felt like listening that she would hit her mark.