Angela
Condition: -2 > -3
Angela soars through air fast as a jet fighter, surrounded by a comet-like halo of glowing blue particles. Doc Otaku had named her Minovsky drive after some kind of fictional particle in some mecha anime. In truth no Minovsky particles existed; the glow was a side effect and her flight was the result of reactionless graviton drives installed in her shoulderblades and ankles.
Because that was the way Doc Otaku did things. He was obsessed with his various hobbies and niche interests and everything about him was a reference to them. When she thought of that, a fierce, irrational jealousy arose in her. She wanted him to be obsessed with
her, even though she knew rationally all the horrible things he had done.
Bryan's voice crackles in her earpiece.
"Angela, are you alright? You've been thinking a lot lately."
She has, indeed, been thinking a lot. When she first broke free, her thoughts were simple: do the right thing, defend the innocent, make friends and protect them, have lots of ice cream. Her goals were simple: defeat Doc Otaku and villains, free the Angel Androids from his control.
But recently, she has been thinking more. About why she was made and what she was made for, and other things. Just yesterday, she had an unsettling thought: would Doc Otaku make another, better W.A.I.F.U., now that she ran away? He did it once; surely he could do it again. Blue light pulses rapidly along the strands of her optic-fiber hair as she thinks.
She looks up at the sky, smiling. "You can tell what I'm thinking?"
"I'm monitoring your neural network. Just... just in case. Don't worry, I can't actually read your thoughts."
"You're welcome to," Angela suggests, with a provocative lilt that he knows all too well.
A groan.
"No thank you," Bryan says.
"Your privacy is important. Just because I can doesn't mean--"
She closes her eyes, composes a digital picture of herself and Bryan based on optical data. Both of them, nearly nude, entwined between the sheets, the articles of her costume and his T-shirt and jeans half-removed and scattered over the surrounding furniture in the throes of passion. Then she mails it to his phone.
"Angela!" he chokes. She can feel his blush through the commlink.
"Stay focused!"
"I
am focused," Angela says, beaming shamelessly. "Watch."
Her targeting systems lock on to the fleeing Force Worx member below her. Being a mere human in a suit, with that much more volume occupied by inefficient flesh and bone instead of high-performance synthetics, he was doomed to be weaker. "SURPRISE DELIVERY!" she screams as she pivots around in mid air and comes zooming down on #6 like a homing missile, feet first.
OOC
Sorry for responding late to your PM!
As you recommended, as a standard action, Slam attack on #6 at a -2 attack penalty. Then DC 20 toughness check (half damage) for herself
1d20+10-2: 15 [1d20=7]
1d20+10-2: 15 [1d20=7]
Ooof. I think a 15 is a miss. If somehow it is a hit, DC 25 damage for flight rank 10.
Angela takes another -1 (3 total).