Greywind

Segment 7. After that he's holding his segment 8 action until segment 11.

Doesn't matter. A character can only have one attack/action available at a time.

If an action is held until it rolls around their next phase they lose the held action.

“What did you get me into, Frank?” Lauren Bressler looked at Frank Stone, trying to get a reading from his face. “Coffee?” the waitress asked. Both Bressler and Stone nodded their assent. When her cup was filled, Bressler wrapped her hands around it. “Would you like to place your order?” “We're waiting on someone,” Stone told her. “Then I will check back with you in a bit,” the waitress said with a smile and turned to other customers. When she was out of earshot, Stone answered Bressler. “What did I get you into? I got you into Special Crimes. Like you wanted.” “With a demotion. Thanks.” “Only on paper.” “What?” “Your demotion, it's only on paper. It will not be reflected in your jacket. And it shouldn't impact your paycheck.” “I don't understand,” she responded with a confused look. “Can't have two captains in the unit. One captain to a precinct. Special Crimes is my precinct.” Stone took a drink of his coffee and silence reigned for a few moments at the table. “I'm tired, Bress. I'm getting old. SCU was set up as a proof of concept. I've been in on it from the beginning. It works. It's necessary. Why do you think we get nice toys from Scott, Kendall, Templar and the others? New York has about the worst infestation of capes. Both good and bad. “There's a time coming when someone new will need to step up and take over. I was hoping that someone would be you.” “Why me?” Stone chuckled. “You, because I like you. Because I trust you. You're a good cop. With what happened the other night I'd say at least one of them trusts you, as well.” Stone took a drink and gave Bressler a moment to think. “I didn't think he'd be one of them. Pay the bills, get the tax cuts, but not be one of them.” “It didn't start with him. It started with his father. Charles Scott wanted a team he could be proud of wearing the corporate colors. First and only time out he got a gang of loose cannons. A couple ended up being killed before they really got going. Two were pretty stand-up. The rest were the kind of people that Special Crimes was set up to stop.” “Why does he do it?” Stone dropped his head a bit and cocked an eye up at Bressler. “All of them have their own reasons.” “But what's his reason?” Stone sipped his coffee before answering. “Honestly, I have found there are two things that drive Jason Scott. His friends and guilt.” “I don't understand,” Bressler said. Nodding, Stone said, “And understanding is one of the things that drives you. Jason buried his mother. A year or two later and he buried his fiance. That would be part of the guilt that drives him. He wasn't able to save her. “You remember a few years back when Commissioner Grayson's grandson was kidnapped?” Bressler nodded. “They gave strict instructions on the exchange. No cops. No capes. Against orders, against rules, against the kidnappers instructions, I called the Guardians and explained things.” “They said a rider turned up. Black leathers, gloves, smoked visor. He never took his helmet off.” Stone nodded. “That was Scott. When he showed up, he talked to me and he talked to the boy's mother. He brought the cash for the exchange. He promised that boy's mom that he would have him home that night. When the instructions came down on where and how to make the drop, he tore off on his bike.” “I don't see how this is relevant.” “Bress, you want to understand him. At least beyond trying to hand a murder one on him.” Bressler smiled. “You have to admit it was a good fit.” “And he won't hold that against you. My point is, about six hours later, he comes back. With the boy. He's a bloody mess. Several people tried taking the boy from him. It was like he was a robot. Single-mindedly following the programming of his promise. It wasn't until he put that boy in his momma's arms that he stopped. Lucky that we had a couple of his friends handy when he collapsed.” “I don't get...” “I'm not finished. He heals. His body regenerates. He walks in here, you could put a round in him and the only effect it will have is to piss him off. He came back with Grayson's grandson looking like he went to war and walked through Hell.

Falls under "Teamwork" with applicable throw modifiers. Keep in mind the only one he really does it with is Wolverine, due to the fact that maneuver is just as painful for the "ball" as it is for the person the ball is thrown at.

Dr. Silverback's Iron Gorilla armor.

That's "Field Marshall Pervert" to you.

Youngblood

Rollerball Battle Angel Alita The Natural The Longest Yard The Bad News Bears The Mighty Ducks

Start wreckin' across the universe...

I got the same impression with Fringe.

“I want you to do something.” Jason smiled at Marlene. “For you, anything.” “Not for me. For you.” “What is it?” * * * * * Charlemagne Bascomb allowed her companion to remove her trench coat. He shook the rain off it and folded it over his arm. She took her wide-brimmed hat off and allowed the rain to roll off the brim. A low whistle came from one of the bar's patrons. Charley smiled. Her companion looked at the notice hung on the wall reading “Accorded Neutral Territory”. “Someone's a Dresden fan,” he commented. “Hey, Charley!” the bartender called. “Hey, Bob. Ale for me. My booth available?” “Sure is. Made sure it was empty. Anything for your companion?” “No. He's just here to keep me out of trouble.” Bob laughed. Many eyes followed Charley when she walked. It wasn't just her seven-foot plus height that drew the eyes. She was a beautiful woman to behold. The booth Charley headed to was spaced to accommodate a person of her build. One seat and table raised just a little bit higher than usual, with the other seat having a single step up to accommodate people of more natural builds. A seat already occupied by a platinum-haired beauty. “Silver,” Charley said in greeting. Looking up, Silver returned the greeting. “Titania. I'm here. What do you want?” Sliding into the booth, Charley said, “I'm just here for an ale.” “Then why call me?” Hanging Charley's coat on a hook outside the booth, Pulsar took off his own coat and hat and disappeared them. Silver practically hissed when she saw him. “He wants to talk to you.” “Damn, Charley,” Bob called out. “You brought a Guardian here?” Chairs scuffed across the wooden floor. Turning to look at him, Pulsar stared and turned his attention to the notice. “Accorded Neutral Territory. Your place. Your rules. Anyone wants fight I will be more than happy to step outside first.” “What do you want?” Silver snapped. Pulsar slid in next to Charley. “Nice blouse.” Silver wore a silver silk blouse with several buttons undone. “Didn't you do enough last time?” She held up her right arm, the cuff pinned closed. Bob brought over Charley's ale and a wine glass for Silver. “Just keep it civil.” Pulsar nodded. “Do you think I was somehow unfair to you at our last meeting?” “You could have just killed me.” “I could have,” Pulsar agreed. “But if you recall, I wanted you to deliver a message. And it seems that the message worked.” “Then what is it you want? I have things I could be doing.” “Someone... Several people, actually, think that I was excessive with you and feel that some reparations are in order,” he said. “You were!” Pulsar laid his hands flat on the table. “Keep in mind I could have simply killed you. Message would have been similar, but then we wouldn't be sitting here having this conversation.” “Put your arm on the table, Silver. He isn't going to hurt you. This time,” Charley said. Staring at Charley, Silver slowly laid her arm on the table. “If you need to fortify, now might be a good time to take a drink,” Pulsar said. “What are you going to do?” Silver asked. “I would like to say that this won't hurt, but experience tells me otherwise.” Pulsar unfastened the pins and unbuttoned the cuff. “It looks like it healed nicely.” “Bob,” Charley called out, “You might want to bring her something stronger than wine.” Bob nodded. Pulsar gently wrapped his hand around Silver's forearm. He locked eyes with hers. His power flowed. While the healing was happening Charley turned her attention to her ale. She heard someone retching. “Don't watch if you have a weak stomach,” she called out. While Silver's hand regrew, Pulsar's shriveled and turned into a claw. In time he released her arm. Bob delivered a double shot of whiskey. Silver downed it in one gulp. Pulsar's hand filled out and he stretched his fingers. Silver turned her hand over, looking at the unblemished skin. “Don't think this makes us even.” Pulsar snorted a bit of a laugh and shrugged his shoulders. He stood up and took Charley's coat off the hook. “I'll catch up in a sec,” she said. Pulsar headed to the bar. “He doesn't think this makes the two of you even. Not by a long shot. Bauer still owes him for the woman you hurt. If you ever make a run at her again, or anyone like her, I will kill you, Silver. Don't ever doubt me for a second.” Charley slipped from the booth and gathered her hat. “Why did he do this?” Silver asked. “Reclaiming a piece of his soul,” Charley answered without ever looking back.

Take your hand off your tool, Marco!

Independence Day?

Squeeze. Don't pull.