A female voice comes in over the speakers.
"Doctor Masako Ishikawa, Codename: Quasar."
The doors open to reveal a young 5-foot tall Asian woman in her late teens or early twenties (it's hard to tell).
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What appear to be about two dozen stainless-steel ball bearings fly through the air around her body, like planets orbiting a star. She's carrying a steaming pizza box on her left arm and has a leather laptop satchel slung over her shoulder.
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Your magnetism awareness flares the moment the door opens. This woman is a walking singularity. She's generating a magnetic field powerful enough to lift a tank...or rip it in half.
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As she steps through the doorway, she scans the room from left to right. When her gaze falls on the motley crew at the bar, she does a double-take, stumbles, nearly drops the pizza box, and balls her right hand into a fist. There is an audible *crackle* as blue lightning begins to arc up and down her arm.
But then, her mind seems to catch up with her body, and she sighs and lowers her arm, leaving the strands of electricity to evaporate. You can smell a tingle in the ionized air as she strides up to the bar, absent-mindedly tossing her satchel to the other side of the room behind her. Rather than crashing to the floor and spilling parts everywhere, the bag gently floats down onto the nearest coffee table. The metal clasps unlock by themselves, and a state-of-the-art titanium laptop slides free. There is a *click* as the screen opens and lights up. The display reveals several programs already running, mouse-pointer and cursors moving frantically to and fro.
Elsewhere, two of the existing video game consoles suddenly power up as their respective television screens flicker to life. Though there is no visible movement on any of the buttons or joysticks, the TV screens show all the indications of someone selecting "
New Game," and moving the main characters around, dispensing death and carnage to a wide variety of monsters and generic military personnel with ruthless efficiency.
She drops the half-opened pizza box unceremoniously upon the bar and hops up onto a seat.
"Have at. Mom always told me it was impolite to bring pizza unless you're willing to share. It's cheese, the least potentially-offensive of all toppings."
With that, she turns to the man in the jester outfit standing behind the bar.
"Sorry. I thought for a second there I'd bag my first super-criminal before Admin. finished processing my background check. 'The Juggler,' right? The grenade-tossing Gentleman Bandit himself. For a snitch, I hear you have a lot of balls."
With that, there are a series of rapid, harsh *clanks* as one of the floating ball-bearings comes to a sudden stop mid-air, and all the other ones in rapid succession smash into it. After the initial impact, they seem to soften and melt into each other, until there is only one amorphous blob of metal, which then drops down onto the bar.
"If you're still serving, I'll have a vodka-&-Red Bull." She turns to the far end of the bar and raises an eyebrow at the Russian cyborg, smirking as she looks him up and down.
"Wow. It's like the SUV of cybernetic augmentation. Is that a tank in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?"
As she speaks, the lump of metal, like clay being molded with invisible fingers, shifts and compresses and stretches until it takes the shape of an ornate vase about 20cm tall. A series of rods grow up from the inside, with bulbs at the top about the size of a quarter.
She glances back and forth between the sculpture and the occupant of the seat adjacent to hers.
"I didn't realize they allowed pets up here. Or is this someone's 'seeing-eye' monkey?" She closes her eyes for a couple seconds.
"Let's see what the Internet says about monkeys...'squirrel-monkey,' ok...tropics? New York must feel like the ****ing Ice Age...hm. Looks like you have the largest brain-to-body-mass ratio of any primate species. Your's is 1:17. Humans are 1:35. Smart little ****ers." At this point, she spies the miniature toolbox.
"That explains a lot...Wow...families of 500? You must be pretty lonely up here. Of course, there's something to be said for being able to take a **** in peace, without 10 brothers and sisters picking it up and throwing it back at you..."
As the stems clear the rim of the vase by about 10cm, the bulbs burst open and unfold into flowers, a sphere of small triangular steel leaves that look as sharp as knives (chrysanthemums, for those of you who'd know).
She leans over and sniffs the glass in front of the spider-monkey, then turns back to Juggler.
"Giving it booze, I see? Make the next daquiri with coconut. Says here tropical monkeys love that ****."