As a fairly liberal place whose citizens included "everyday superheroes" long before the Gifted arrived, Seattle has been fairly accepting of the new breed of humanity that seemed to pop into existence thirteen years ago. In fact, the local laws surrounding non-dangerous displays of Gifted abilities are far looser here than even in Las Vegas! And though it has always been welcoming, it is has recently been transformed into the new "Hollywood for The Gifted." Over the course of the last few years, many Gifted individuals have risen to celebrity status as they've come out of the shadows.

Seattle's Gifted celebrity culture is heavily fueled and informed by what cultural commentators have called a "classic superhero culture." This culture is difficult to explain to outsiders, but, in general, non-Namidian, destructively-inclined Gifted gangs are more present here than most places in America. As such, the threat that such "supervillains" pose is more real here than anywhere else. Yet the sheer number of heroic Gifted ready to combat them keeps these villains in check, rendering low-intensity Gifted battles a regular occurrence that many citizens don't even worry about.

These cultural elements changed, however, after Gaultown. Many of the former celebrities have been publicly rebuked for their recklessness and inaction in the face of the ITSDA's "corruption." Meanwhile, others have turned against their former comrades, becoming armchair protesters and bloggers that endlessly decry "Gifted entitlement" and "Gifted Messiah Complexes." Nevertheless, it is not particularly shocking to see someone use powers or manifest them in public settings here. Moreover, many of Seattle's citizens remain interested, both intellectually and personally, in the Gifted. Some even still support them openly and wholeheartedly!

The recently backlash is, some fear, going to spark a wave of Anti-Gifted hostility in Seattle. This fear has only magnified recently now that scientists have declared that the appearance of "The Big One," a world-ending Gifted powerhouse, is entering the realm of possibility. But for now at least, the Gifted still have a home in Seattle. And, more dangerously, those who would destroy them have a target...
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:00, Sun 12 June 2016.

 Brian Jameson stood before his assembled class. The room was set up like a lecture hall and made it easy for Brian to speak to his interns despite their laptops strewn about with an air of frustrated genius, "...the divisions I'll be hiring you to will need your expertise to be effective. I've hand picked each of you because of your unique qualifications, some of you are Gifted, others of you are brilliant, analytical or possess technical insight that I've found to be extremely valuable to our work. All of you are reasonable enough to see the merit in secrecy of these systems. The computer language I'm teaching you will be proprietary and emulates a human mind, therefore will have greater recall abilities, associative capabilities and are an intuitive learning platform. I've selected each of you because each of you will learn a piece of this computational library, compartmentalizing this language so that hacking it will be virtually impossible. This will prevent misuse or outright failure."

 "Imagine an issue where nullifier-handcuffs could be hacked? So you can see the issues that might arise there," Brian said. He looks at his watch and back to his class, "Ok, we'll meet back here Monday, you'll each find your final lessons. Class dismissed -- have a good weekend."

He gathered his satchel and stuffed his laptop into it.

His recent elevation into the spotlight had afforded him a few perks of visibility. The first was that several computer science undergrads had offered their services to him, to intern with him. He couldn't say no to the chance to make things better, to affect a new generation in a positive way. He did hand select each of the interns out of those whom applied to his tutelage. A few were a bit shady, and they had an even more thorough background checking. Six were felons of one sort or another, but all of those he recruited were hackers he found.

 So he had become a posterboy for nerds, great.

 He refocused his thoughts. Johnny-5 had been scouring the web for signs of life from the Namidian wave, after their recent defeat they had been all but silent, however no major movements had been detected. The AI had reconnected with Meta after the Gaultown battle. Happy to have been able to help, relieved that his maker was safe.

He began to walk to his office, through the halls of the Ranier bldg., downtown Seattle, his new home.

 After that it almost looked like it would be old times, but unfortunately that was not to be. As calculated, media coverage had been plaguing his every move afterwords and it seemed all but impossible to retreat back to his old anonymous life. So instead the pair had begun to step into that limelight. Attempting to champion causes and defend the ITSDA's actions.

 What he began to realize very quickly, was that there would be no way for ITSDA to move forward without significant growing pains or die trying. Meta hadn't wanted to stay much anyways, but Jill Irvine had reached out. He did owe her his life, if not for her he would've likely been assassinated on Interstate-70 that fateful day. So he owed her and her team. He would help in any way he could, but having been rendered crippled for their actions that day, the ITSDA would not be able to effectively combat the Namidian Wave. They were condemned for what was essentially a two day war, the battle of Chicago, Gaultown and New York had irreparably damaged their credibility with the public and as a result, the United Nations; they had simply been doing what the organization had been designed for.

 That had been what had kept him up late at night before they went to trial. Having decided that a new course needed to be plotted, Brian made a rough outline of a foundation, a non-profit organization that would deal with the destruction, the impotence of the populace at large and potency of the unrestrained Gifted. He would need heroes, he would need policy makers and diplomats, he would need researchers as well as media to effect the goals that seemed clear to him, but he knew where not so easily identified to the world. The world needed a hand, and the foundation needed to be the one to give it, because the ITSDA could not.

 That's how the Gaultown Foundation had been born, or GTF for those who needed acronyms. Brian knew that in order to do this they would need money and manpower, and probably a lot of it quickly. So he set Johnny-5 on the case, selecting for background, accomplishments, and potential, if they were gifted made no difference to Brian, he had hardly considered himself gifted for a long time before he donned the Meta-suit. Besides, he knew that Gifted weren't the only minds on the planet that mattered, and that was important to represent within his organization, Gifted and Non-gifted alike, working together.

 The money was harder, because Meta had never needed great sums, he hadn't focused his particular set of skills on the subject. Now however he was learning a great deal. He had already accidentally created a bit of a hiccup in the stock market, something which his analysis had accurately forecast that he had thought would be hardly noticeable but enough to startle many investors apparently, something that had been beyond his ability to see. He knew that too good an application of his talents could greatly upset the delicate economy after that, so he simply toned it down, which still afforded him a great deal of cash, just a slightly slower stream of it.

 With cash flowing in, he began to buy start-ups and the Ranier Bldg. A large condominium location near Pike Place Market by the waterfront in Seattle's Belltown district. A place to start from. He spent some of the capital on upgrading the building's old electrical systems, and upgrading them with various emergency protocols and surveillance systems. In addition the twenty story building held space for twenty condominiums after renovating several of the floors. The top floor held the operations level a place to invite guests, convene meetings and hold lectures like the one he just dismissed. Work would be ongoing for the rest of the building, but soon it would be complete.


 The plan was to seed these graduate students into the start-ups he had bought and relocated to the Ranier building to begin work on various projects like the inhibitor cuffs, designed to baffle Gifted powers in a controlled way (he was always concerned when he heard of out of control gifted), or to disarm them entirely (or psychopaths like Kane). So far he could only temporarily make this happen in his prototypes. It was something which would bolster belief in the Foundation's causes and solve the problem of Police ineffectiveness against Gifted.

 Meanwhile Johnny-5 had begun to divert some of his attention to the seeking out of researchers whose fields of study would help to move things forward, as well as candidates for PR and diplomacy, team training and special efforts. The list was growing by the day.

He found himself in the lounge and he propped his feet up on the couch as he laid back to do some work, newly installed plexisteel windows allowed light through to illuminate the room with Seattle's first sunny day in the intervening time since he'd moved in.

 Already names were beginning to crop up. Several of them had fought with him in Gaultown...He began to dial the first name on the list using his retinal contact interface.

 "Hello, this is Brian Jameson, yes, Meta the bright bulb..., yes, everything's fine....Oh, nice, you're with Peter too? Great say hi for me, I actually called because I have an opportunity opening up that I think you both might find interesting...because as you know, everything is actually not fine."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:04, Sun 12 June 2016.

Frank Jackson, Peter Vargus, and Sarah Darley entered the lobby of the building, looking around as they did so; they didn't see a flesh and blood person, but having met the owner of this structure before they had no doubt countless cameras and scans had heralded their arrival. Not sure exactly wha to do with themselves, the three potential new employees stood around and waited for something to happen.

 Their arrival had been foretold, a local security group had effectively secured the grounds because news had traveled fast. The first tweet with a pic had shown the twitterverse the three Gaultown comrades disembarking at the airport. Locals already knew that in all likelihood they were traveling to the the new and rather quiet goings on with the developing GTF. Reporters and newsmen clambered at the perimeter to the garden steps of the building for a shot of the three as they entered.

 Once inside the trio could see compact robotic forklifts moving payloads around the lobby which was still very much still under construction. A young lady of early twenties with a catchy smile and bright eyes appeared before them, introduces herself, "I'm  Lucy Ranier, and this is my building, or I should say that Mr.Jameson owns it, but he created me. I'm a virtual receptionist as well as a security specialist," she paused and leaned forward and spoke to them in slightly hushed tones a bit nervously, "I'm also still a bit new at this so, please just let me know if anything seems off."

 The obvious introduction out of the way she continues at normal tones, her form flickers a moment like an old tv screen and you realize that she's a hologram, "I'm supposed to be a smart building, so I'll just venture a guess that you are here to meet with Mr.Jameson? If you'd like just sign here and peruse the contracts, a copy of which I'll send you, or you can speak with him first if it suits you better? I've also let him know you've arrived so he should be along presently in any case."

 She smiled brightly and cocked her head slightly to the side in apparent assumption of some response.

Frank ignored the cameras and clamoring reporters, while Sarah had fun vibrating just fast enough to blur any pictures taken of her. Peter, however, disappeared from sight in a cloud of black smoke, only to emerge seconds later clad once more as Black Magic. He performed all sorts of minor tricks for his audience, at one point getting so involved in his impromptu performance that Jackson had to grab the back of the man's cape and yank him along.

When the trio of heroes finally got inside the build, the Immortal Soldier didn't seem startled or surprised at what wonders they saw; of course, after standing at ground zero of a massive explosion created by a knight composed of light imploding, it stood to reason that automated forklifts and holographic women just weren't special in his book. Peter enjoyed looking around now that he wasn't elsewise distracted, as did Darley. After the image before them stopped speaking, Vandal pointed to one of the efficient machines humming along and asked;

"Hey Frank, how come the ITSDA never had anything like this? We could have fixed up a lot of damage with little gizmos like these, but I've never seen one until now.

"That's because the ITSDA exists to fight a war, not to rebuild in the aftermath of it."

The man with snow-white Elvis hair addressed the projection with a lip-curled smile.

"Well now, Lucy, if your looks are anything to go by, your boss has good taste. Thanks for the offer, but I always like a face to face meeting before I sign any contracts. We'll wait for him, if it's all the same."

 Brian emerged from the elevator at the back of lobby at a pace to meet up with them. He had a tablet in hand and swerved around a forklift and a couple construction contractors as materials, conduits, wiring and other materials were being transported around. Another set of drones were each picking up bricks to construct a fountain in the lobby in a swarm-like hive-mind. They weren't flashy but they were apparently doing the trick. Another was covering the last part of the bare floor with some heavy duty looking tiles, beneath more tech gleamed up, embedded into the floor. "Excuse me gentlemen and robots."

 He waved his arms wide to the trio and sported a wide grin, "guys you made it! Good to see you. Thank you Lucy, talk to you later."

 The girl nodded, pleased with herself and disappeared from view.

 "So, do you guys wanna see your rooms or do you wanna see what I've been working on this week?" he asked with a sly wink, he was really pleased with the place, it's apparent.

Frank returned the grin, then walked forward to offer the man a handshake.

"Good to see you again, buddy. Looks like you're doing well, I'm really happy for you. Well it's your show, despite what a certain primadonna might think..."

Jackson nodded his head in Black Magic's direction, whom in turn pretended not to notice.

"...So you take the lead, and we'll just follow you."

In way of a greeting, Vandal gave a friendly wave and Peter bowed.

 Brian smiled and nodded, "You're gonna like this. Ok, Lucy lets go through Power Test in sector 2."

 Lucy's disembodied voice spoke in calm yet authoritative measured tones. "ATTENTION: UNAUTHORIZED POWERS USEAGE DETECTED IN THE LOBBY. ACTIVATING ANTI-POWER ZONES."

 Suddenly each of the foursome felt a tingle in their skin, each of the Gifted suddenly felt the weight of their bodies as their Gifts left them, their enhanced strength and agility now simply human strength and agility. The lights flickered a bit but a constant hum could be heard as they each attempted a trick of their powers. Except Frank who probably felt as though he was a sack of wet potatoes moving in high-G.

 "Crazy right?" Brian suggested as he felt the effects as well, "It has no lasting effects, but can disarm powers on the premises. The main problem is the electrical grid drag it causes. I call it a nullifier field, as long as you're exposed to the field it shorts the parts of the body that hold the 'gift-boxes', my own pet name for particles that seem to govern power use. It's absolutely harmless to norms."

 "Now Frank is just a tough guy and you two are just a couple cool looking folks. You'll fit in nicely in Seattle by the way," he watched their smiles turn into frowns as he stood gauging their reactions, "okay, okay. Lucy disengage Power test and add Frank Jackson, Peter Vargus, and Sarah Darley to the authorized list."

 Suddenly they felt their Gifts surge back to life like an engine starting in their chests.

 "Feels good eh? Well Lucy has the ability to detect those gift-boxes that enter the building. I'm working on a system to see if we can make that kind of scanner mobile," Brian said, his teacher tone starting to emerge, "ok so follow me and I'll show you the condos."

 Each of the condos were spacious with a full kitchen, living room, bedroom and spare bedroom. For now each has a set of five year or older appliances but they look in good shape for the most part. They've recently been repainted white and Brian says they are free to do whatever they'd like to the places, apart from destroying them entirely. Upgrades on a few things will be standard soon, he explains that he just hasn't been able to get to that yet.

 Then he shows them the top level. A cadre of bots are busy cleaning the lounge when the doors open. It's a spacious circular area and the first thing they see, flanked on either side by halls that jut off to two other rooms. To the right, a conference/lecture room/briefing room, as well as several small labs and work rooms along with a cargo elevator and garage, still unfinished. To the left, a communications room with seating for twenty operators and analysts. Finally a fully automated kitchenette, serving twelve kinds of food, all made to order and specifications, there's a bumper sticker on the machine that says 'Made at Google'. Beyond that is a medical bay, now still covered in plastic sheets, equipment not even taken out of packaging yet. Most of the rooms have spacious bay style windows that stretch from floor to ceiling and look to be made out of something very thick. Brian knocked on one to draw attention to it. "Don't try to jump through these suckers, it's a steel-plexiglass combination, very tough stuff and, it turns out, pretty easy to program with a nanomachine layer in the center," to prove his point, he turns up the brightness on the view allowing in maximum light, and then opaques it into a solid wall, and then back again to window. "Yeah, this place should be able to stand a big earthquake. The roof is the best way outta here in an emergency, if it every comes to that, but there's an airlock to prevent intruders from that route."

The three Gifted let out an audible gasp as their powers were stolen from them, feeling dazed since what they'd learned to live with everyday for years simply wasn't there anymore. The trio glowered at Meta, the frowns they displayed clear indicators that a little warning might have been nice. The restorations of their special traits felt comfortable like a worn favorite pair of jeans, but the grins of before were absent as the tour continued.

No words were spoken by the Immortal Soldier, Speedster, or Magician when they saw the condos, they simply dropped their luggage off in one each with Vandal and Black Magic taking one to the left and right of Frank.

They looked about the lounge when they got to that location, mutely nodding at what they saw, and watched as Meta tried to impress them with his wall/window. Finally, the others smiled once more.

"Nice little setup you've got going here, Brian. That sucker punch in the lobby was rough, but it's good to know what the bad guys are in for if and when they decide to visit. I would like to know how your defenses are against normals too, but we can get to that later. You've shown us your HQ, where we'd be living if we signed up with you, and even over the phone suggested a good salary. The only thing left out that I can see is, what exactly it is you want to hire us to do."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:17, Tue 14 June 2016.

 Brian scratched his the back of his head and wrinkled his nose as his cheeks reddened in embarassment. "Yeeeah, sorry about that. I'm not usually in the habit of surprising my own people like that. It is good to know what it's like though."

 "Ok, good. Right to the point. I need to make you guys the heroes of Gaultown, show that you support the memorial I've been cooking up, that's just the short term. Long term, I need people who can effectively handle battle, as it's sure to arise, and solution solvers. We are doing other events too, that's the part that will involve the PR work, charities, galas and outreach. You guys can do a lot more than just battle to do good work. A quick estimate says that there are roughly twelve thousand Gifted under the age of 18 in this country, if we do some outreach, give talks on proper use of powers and teach people how to control them, and teach them all tolerance, we won't be handing Namidias an entire generation of kids..."

 He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "anyways, that's my speech, that's what this place is aimed at trying. I've got several companies that would die for the rights to produce our inhibitor cuffs, something I cooked up for local police, but there's an angle there too if you want to chase it that is.

Jackson gave a dry chuckle.

"You know what outreach programs there where for kids, when I was young? Somebody decided to give you a break with a job or not calling the cops, and you didn't louse up what might be your one shot out of the gutter. Or, if not out, at least a chance to float on the surface instead of being dragged in the filth on the bottom. The first one of you who cracks a dinosaur joke goes through the unbreakable window, so don't try it...

"Well it sounds to me like what you've got planned might take a while, but then I'm immortal so what do I care, right?"

The big man laughed, and gave Brian a friendly pat on the back. Then he looked to his friends.

"What do you two think of his offer?"

"It sounds good on the surface, and I know what it's like to be a Gifted kid that your own parents are afraid of. I'd like to help others like that, let them know someone understands what they're going through, that they're still them and not monsters or something."

"Dear Meta, might I inquire as to if your dining area is stocked? If it is, I humbly suggest we have a bite to eat while looking over our contracts. This way we can ask you any questions we might have, and if all is well then you shall have three new employees by desert."

"Magic, you needn't ask twice. It absolutely is stocked. I wouldn't be alive currently if it wasn't. I haven't left this place physically in a week! Just key in the meal you'd like and the Cook-o-tron will make the meal...Oww, What?! I didn't name it that!"

 Minutes later the three are enjoying dinner, each having picked out a different meal from the Cook-o-tron's menu of available items. Brian's was chicken-fried steak and eggs-scrambled. "Now that you've had a chance to ask some questions, whaddya think? (I think it's almost dessert time.) The reason I ask is because there's a high likelihood of the Wave attempting to steal a project that's en route to us here. UC of Berkeley to Seattle isn't too far, a colleague is afraid for her team's safety and that of the project, she's got transportation lined up if we can get you down there by tomorrow..."

Frank was enjoying a triple bacon cheese burger and a side of fries, ah the joys of not having to watch your diet. He let out a belch, wiped his mouth with the back of a hand, and turned to look at Meta.

"Well I had a couple last questions, the first actually tying in to your guard detail; my Devastators were ITSDA property, and while I'm really, really good with my feet and fists, if you want me packing you'll have to give me something cause right now I've got a big goose egg.

"The second thing isn't really important to anyone but me, but is there any way you could use that big brain of yours and make me some cloths that don't burn or rip off easy? I'm kind of tired of winning the day, only to be naked at the end of it."

Peter about finished with a steak dinner, and politely dabbed at the corners of his mouth before taking a turn speaking.

"If I may ask, how big, and heavy, is the item? What I have to say next, will be influenced by those facts."

Vandal remained quiet for once, enjoying the last of her pork chop supper and letting the boys speak for a bit.

 Meta looked at Frank a bit dourly as he drank the last of his vodka milkshake, his newfound status notwithstanding, he was always a bit of a grump when it came to orderly manners. It was one reason he liked Black Magic so much, at least as much time as he'd spent with him. "the project is large, it's 40ft wide and deep, 15 ft tall. It's going to take a cargo plane to move it and it's a weighty sonovagun at 14 tons..."

 He took a breath to let that sink in and he shut down his tertiary conversation with Faye, GIPS and Gwen; he allowed Johnny to continue in his place, his full attention would be needed here to get all the details explained well.

 "It's also extremely dangerous when powered up. We can't let that happen. The project-lead is a fair lady named Faye Loveliss. She's Gifted with gravity control powers, her Gift is the only thing which can safeguard the device when powered up. So failing to prevent it from being powered up, protect her. There will be some hazard pay for this by the way," Brian stated flatly, and looked at the three faces assembled, "to answer your first question last; I've got two souped up versions of what I could remember of your Devastators Frank. You can give them a try in the range set up on the Sixteenth floor, rudimentary for now, but I'm working it into a training level for future teams. I've also got body armor that is form fitting and can change colors to match a background or style of your preference, or it can stop a bullet and absorb the kinetic force without injury, it's insulated against heat attacks and electrical attacks. There's only five of them right now so watch for wrecking them in the first go. They aren't so easy to make and impossible to patch up. It's a simplistic modification of my old suit. the more you wear it, the more comfortable it should become though."

Somewhere beneath the waves of Lake Union a school of dark shadows passed beneath the hull of an anchored Yaht. A sailor leant over the vessels side to admire what he thought was an unseasonably large school of bass- although when one of the 'fish' looked back with a glowing red pupil he stumbled back in a shocked flinch. He rubbed his eyes, swore, decided to get back to work, and forgot about the incident.

Elsewhere the bulbs of the Seattle Great Wheel winked and blinked in an attempt to draw customers. Wedged tightly between the rides lamps was an errant light- which was only visible as a single stray point of red light encased in a dark grey metal shell. Almost no one noticed it, and those who did simply assumed that it was part of the attractions hardware.

A family of American Robins chirped at each other irritatingly. They'd nested in a gutter overlooking Victor Steinbrueck Park, which they considered safer than attempting to nest in the small oasis of green itself. A few weeks ago their nest had been invaded, but in whatever small way that animals felt emotion they had grown used to the intruder and learned to ignore it. Their own cluster of bright-blue eggs nestled among a larger metal one, which seemed to keep a constant interest in the area. While construction crews had busied themselves by refurbishing the Rainier Building the 'eye's attention had been undivided.

Somewhere, in fact everywhere, other drones were at work. They were all on individual missions, but had a shared interest- and no matter what they had all been individually searching for they kept a particular eye out for red scarves...
This message was last edited by the player at 22:31, Sat 18 June 2016.

 A crowd of paparazzi begin to form outside of the Ranier building. A press conference is scheduled for minutes from now...

 After a few moments a young woman and four of the GTF's leadership emerge from the building and begin briefing reporters on what to expect.

 Meanwhile up on the twentieth floor the dinner meeting comes to an abrupt end. "I'm sorry everyone, I've got a crowd of reporters to address. I'll give you a bonus if decide to introduce yourselves to the public tonight in the next few minutes, but...," he glances down at his watch in a gesture that gave off the air that he was on a schedule, "I've got a crowd to speak to so if you'll excuse me, or conversely, follow me if you'd like that bonus."

 He abruptly stands and walks into the hall, he took the elevator to the bottom floor and emerged into the lobby, then finally, onto the steps of the building to join the rest of the Foundation leadership.

  "Thank you all for coming, I'm here to announce a new initiative that the Gaultown Foundation is proud to be taking part in. In working with ITSDA, we've been allowed and authorized to take into custody a captured Namidian Wave terrorist, Jake Williams aka Mr.Green, who I've been working with to understand the nature of a branch of the 'Wave called the Schwartz Augen. Earlier this year he was apprehended while serving as a squad commander on their behalf and taken into custody. Now with the Foundation's help we have taken important steps forward in learning more about this organization and how it works, because of the cooperation of Mr.Green. As you can see he has willingly accepted this second chance to reform and make a better life for himself and our fellow Gifted for the development of a more peaceful world," Mr.Green comes from behind the assembled Foundation leadership a bit sheepishly, "come on out here and take a bow Mr.Green, you've earned it."

 Mr.Green leans into the mic a bit too closely and says with a tinge of an Australian Accent as he shakes Meta's hand, "thank's for this opportunity to show the world what we can do together."

 The man nods and smiles charmingly, stepping back once again.

 Brian smiles into the cameras and nods back towards Mr.Green, "I think you'll agree that whenever Gifted work together, things get better for everyone. So this is also part of a pilot program designed to rehabilitate former criminals and give them an optional way out of such criminal work. They will be tracked and rendered powerless if they are violent Gifted."

 He paused and let that sink in a moment before continuing, "I am constantly amazed by our world's ability to solve problems with ingenuity, compassion and everyday heroism. Anyone who wishes to join the Foundation, can, and we encourage those whom wish to use their Gifts and ingenuity to better our world. Please consider giving the gift of life to a young Gifted, whom may be conflicted right now, not sure which way to turn. We are here to help. To report unusual Gifted activity or violence please call our 24/7 toll free hotline."


 "Secondly, I want to announce our second initiative, the GTFUnited initiative. This program gives money to police departments whom consult with Gifted professionals and incorporate Gifted into their contractor structure. We'll never have to face another Gaultown Incident if we work together to stay vigilant and cohesive, Human and Gifted, to prevent the spread of crime and terrorism. You CAN make a difference....Thank you all for coming this evening. At least it's not raining!"

 "Lastly, the GTF is proud to be employing a few of those extraordinary heroes from Gaultown in our forward team. They'll provide outreach and support to our operations. Thank you again for coming, that is all tonight!"
This message was last edited by the player at 09:24, Sun 19 June 2016.

Among the crowd that Brian was speaking to, a single man stood. He was dressed like your average street thug, but around his neck was a red scarf, the end tucked into his jacket.

Adjusting the scarf, he muttered, seemingly to himself. "Any luck?" He whispered.

***
A fair distance away, another man -dressed identically- replied, as though he could hear the first man's voice.

Leaning against the railing nearby the ferris wheel, his words were little more than a whisper. "Not really. I'm pretty sure that's just a blinking light. What about you?"

***
In the middle of a park, a woman with a red scarf spoke softly to thin air. "Rendezvous in Victor Steinbrueck. I've got eye contact."

***
"You sure about that? I don't want another laser-pointer fiasco, no matter how funny the boss thought it was." The second man asked.

***
"Oh, I'm sure." The woman glanced to the side, where she saw a little red light shining from a gutter up above, amid a chorus of chirps. "A little birdie told me."

The eye watching the red-scarfed woman focused it's pupil. It's target bore a similarity to several other people in 'it's' vision; Strangers at the pier, and at mister Jameson's press conference were also visible wearing the same uniform. Oculus made up her mind, decided to take a risk, and dispatched her messenger...

Minutes later one of her Sentry's would approach the park and risk addressing the redscarved woman directly. This one was obviously one of her 'special' types, and a seam along it's midsection would allow it to split in half- which revealed a small microphone and speaker reminiscent of an older 'clamshell' phone. From the way that the woman had been returning the birdnest-drone's gaze Oculus had already realised that she'd been spotted, and so decided not to waste any time; her messenger flew into the redscarves field of view, clicked open, and clattered at the woman's feet without any pomp or ceremony.

"How did you find my email?"

Oculus's voice buzzed through the improvised device with a hoarse crackle, and got right to business. Oculus wasn't above a little playful discussion, but nowadays she made a point of staying off the grid- and the fact that someone had a way to contact her had piqued her interest.

"-and what the hell's with the scarves? I don't think we've done business before."

"Oh please." The lady chuckled. "I can't just tell you! Mainly because I wasn't told either. Our leader was the one who discovered how to contact you. And as he does, he withheld that information from even me." She put on a pout and drew a line down her face with her finger, like a tear."Oh well. I suppose you can't put all your eggs in one basket, especially while you're behind bars."

She yawned. "My accomplices will be here any minute. Then we can talk somewhere more private, or at least I hope."

The three heroes took a moment to sign their contracts, then followed Meta downstairs and outside. The hour was growing late and we full of delicious food, but they put off the thought of relaxing in order to stand behind their new boss while giving the assembled crowd a smile and wave. Peter was tempted to do more, yet he refrained from any tricks or such lest he take the spotlight away from the man whom for the moment rightly deserved it.

Mr. Green stepped off the VTOL still wearing hisprison jumper but nowfree of the restraints and security devices of his incarceration. He looked slowly around the bright landing pad and squinted against the harsh natural light. That had been foreign to him for a couple months now and wasn't his most recurrent friend beforehand. He raised a hand to shade his eyes and looked back at the man in the pilot's seat. It had been a quiet flight sitting between security personel. He had only been considering his upcoming situation as wellas the identity of the chemicals now in his system. He had not yet turned his ability on them, but he would.

He turned and walked off the pad then stood casually and waited for someone to meet him. He would be spending another month more or less under house arrest and be watched carefully for... Well, forever. Well, not exatly forever. He grinned as he considered what was next. He would need to make phone calls, send e-mail, etc and they would need to be monitored. He aslo, idly wondered who else had been recruited from the world's gifted population.

The next space of time was going to be very interesting.

Early morning rooftop pad

 The young woman from the press briefing appeared and climbed the steps to access the landing from a corner of the pad. There she smirked a bit sheepishly and waved a hello as she crossed the landing and nodded to the two accompanying ITSDA escort who began to embark on the plane. "Hello, I'm Lucy. I'm one of Mr.Jameson's assistants and his daughter," her cheeks redden noticeably and she avoids his eyes for a moment, "I've been briefed on your abilities and I have to say, I'm rather impressed by what you can do. We'll talk again after you meet him."

 She leads the way inside and through a security screen. On the inside it looked nearly abandon so far, but well furnished and practically new. A few small robots scurried through the halls as if they were fleeing from a wookie inside the death star. After a few moments, the hall leads into a gym-like space with various sporting equipment stored along the walls. it's quiet and one entire side of the room faced the rising sun between the silhouette of the Cascade Mountains in the distance while clouds hovered to the north, all seen through the walls.

 In the center of the gym on the mat, Brian Jameson quietly breaths as he faces that scene, his back to the door in a lotus position.

 Just behind his eyelids myriad things were happening in addition to another quick conversation with JOHNNY and Faye. He had also been watching Mr.Green's entrance as seen from various camera equipment found across the complex. He began to clear his thoughts and refocus on the matters of flesh and bone.

 He currently monitored Jake's vitals and listened briefly to his heart beat. He saw that his nanite transform-virus had begun to do it's job, as it created biological machine from Mr.Green's own cells. The golden liquid had begun to lay a lattice through Mr.Green's body, suffusing it with enhanced strength and agility, his body becoming more dense, his reflexes quicker and the blue liquid, a cognitive computer began to interact with his brain stem and gave him a new sense with some fine motor styled control on it: it was growing a Radio-packet transmitter within his skull. Right about now much of this was becoming apparent to Mr.Green's own consideration of the injections and what it was doing as it was beginning to swarm near it's target locations throughout his body.

 Lucy smiled at Jake and left the room.

 Brian spoke, "thank you for coming. I wasn't sure you would after what I did. I'm sorry if this will hurt you personally. I did it to show the SA that I don't play games, but nothing will come of it if they play ball. The injections will enhance you, it will let me know where you are at, and it will allow you to contact people without using a phone. It takes a bit of practice," Brian's eyes opened, "either way, I hope you find it pleasurable. It certainly can be fun to have a computer implant and a physical upgrade. I'll send you the details to your enhancements today. Think of it all as my way of saying sorry for the press release. So, my Security Consultant, I have something for you today if you want to get started right away. I need you to convince the SA to protect a convoy as a show of good faith, there can be no casualties of any of my people...there's a 382 to 1 chance that a Namidian force will order his troops to take it. That can't happen."
This message was last edited by the player at 07:08, Mon 20 June 2016.

At her opening comment, he performed his characteristic chuckle, "An ability is not, of itself, impressive miss Lucy. It is the way you learn to use it and wield it. My power is potent but becomes terrifying when wielded by a man who has experience with it. But, I think that your familiarity with Mr. Jameson will teach you that lesson."

As he had walked, following the shy young lady, he made two discoveries. The first was expected and the result of his ability to categorize and analyze the elemental makeup of his own form. While knowing other bodies was an extended and complicated matter, he had spent years of his life studying his own body. It had, one, made him much better at understanding how to harm others or influence them, but also, two, gave him an ability to rapidly recover if he chose. Changing the composition of his form was always a very, very risky business as his ability was not a scalpel but more a broadsword, but he had done it a few times. This was what he meant by experience being more important. A gifted juch as the terrifying Kaine might take his ability and have a powerful new tool, but his use of it would always pale in comparison to Jake's as Jake had made an extensive study of biochemistry, chemistry, and physics to support his ability as well as practiced using it in certain imaginative ways. These had been lesson learned sparring with Dieter. That man's capacity to push his gift to its furthest extent was truly inhuman.

He had also discovered to his surprise that the young woman did not exist materially in this location. He could not discount her being prone somewhere else and projecting here to avoid his danger, but he suspected that Meta had another bit of technology behind this young woman. "Very interesting. You appear to be a mass of some type of particle that I am incapable of interacting with. I assume it is light as I know that it is beyond my control along with subatomic things."

As she was leaving the room, he asked Brian quite pointedly a question he wanted her to overhear, "tell me, was there a way to make such a perfectly formed bottom more squeezable? I'd love to interact with Lucy a bit more, with all pure intentions for your daughter of course."

Afterwards, he chuckled and approached the man as he spoke about the changes in Jake's form. M"I really wish you had asked. It took me years to meticulously assess and catalog my bodies chemical composition. It's going to take me months or more to register these changes. But, an on-board computer does seem quite useful."

He pondered the convoy request and groaned. "I told you... Namidians work in a cell structure. "The Wave" as you are all fond of calling it makes it sound like a monolith, but it isn't. So, I could probably guarantee SA to not attack the convoy, I might even be able to arrange protection, but I will have to warn them of your suspicions and that... that could complicate things. Dieter prefers to avoid pissing off his confederates as a politically expedient philosophy. Still," He shrugged. "I can try. I can be seen to try in earnest, but I am trying to warn you about my imminent failures."

He concentrated a second but then sighed and shrugged, "Got a real phone. the one in my head needs a bit of time with the manual." He grinned cheekily. "Just the newest iPhone. I need something familiar."

When one was brought, he quickly moved his fingers over the screen adding in settings and downloading Apps. One of the first Apps was a dark web browser from which he retrieved several more Apps then he finally added in a piece of contact information to one of these dark Apps. He held the phone up to his ear, "Mr. Green. I am a very pretty girl." The line was spoken carefully like a coded phrase. "Confirmed. Third Terrace. Ochre protocols. Bengal Tiger. Yup, you saw the news? Yup. He wants something already. Okay. A convoy not attacked and protected. Potential Namidian overlap."

Mr. Green casually tossed the phone toward Brian, "Details." The man's entire jovial demeanor was absent. He operated in a brisk, mechanical fashion characteristic of SA operatives. A feminine voice came over the line, "Mr. Jameson?" Brian would be able to detect several hardware changes in the phone as well such that certain surges in use would cause the phone to die. The phone was also communicating through satellites used by criminals all over the world now.

"Well. It was worth a try!"

Oculus's voice sighed, although it seemed to carry a faint trace of amusement. She'd hoped that whoever these 'Redscarves' were they'd be amateurish and let information slip for free- but they at least seemed to know the basic rules of the game.
She noted that they'd revealed their employer was a convict, although that information was not terribly useful- and she suspected that the woman'd only mentioned it to hook her interest. The attempt had worked.

"The device in front of you will have to be our line of communication for the time being. It links directly to my Sentry's hivemind, so we should be able to talk anywhere without being intercepted- so long as you use the appropriate discretion. It's lifespan should last for about a month, so long as it's only used as a phone from now on. As of this moment I'm not even near Seattle, so speaking face-to-face won't be possible unless the contract requires it."

The eye watching them from the birds-nest above was still monitoring them. A close examination of the skyline would reveal that it'd been joined by several more of it's kind, who had taken up concealed viewpoints around the rest of the park.

"This place is rather exposed. If it suits you there's a maintenance room off the 2nd avenue rail track- near enough to walk, remote enough that I can guarantee it's security, and easy to break into."

 Brian was also in business mode. Tactical advantage was his currently, but this had the possibility to tip that scale elsewhere should something happen to the project, and quick analysis yielded this simple coordination should offer a first beneficial tie to the SA and possibly be of great benefit to both parties.

 He watched Green for a moment considering the man's intellectual crassness. He didn't seem to care for niceties, which was fine, but Meta disliked the sarcastic dripping from his every word. He supposed the man would soften up in his time here.

 Brian picked up the phone, still sitting in his lotus position. He detected, but wasn't significantly interested in the hardware changes on the phone, except to check that they had no dangerous implications, either to himself, his networks, and the security of the mission. It seemed sound to his topical analysis. "Yes," he responded to the woman on the other end, "details are thus: a train will be carrying a rather large project. It will be guarded by three of my gifted employees and possibly at least two more who will accompany it from the lab in Berkeley, CA. My simulations have suggested that several other Namidian cells have a high probability of coordinating to steal the device, in whole or part. There can be no loss of life nor any attempt to turn the machine on. In fact, the less SA is seen, the better this relationship will work, since I'm well aware of your ability to be effective and operate from behind the curtain 'so to speak'. This is entirely scheduled to be moved tomorrow starting on a six a.m. train heading to Seattle's Burlington Northern shipping yard."


 He tossed the phone back to Green at that point. "Lucy, please see Mr.Green to his new domicile and give him an outline of his schedule and the security detail regiment which will be created to prevent his escape and assign him a 'Eagle' drone. Thank you Mr.Green, I think we will have much to talk about, you seem an intelligent man. I always have uses for intelligent people."

On an isolated rooftop, a third man sat with a device that looked like a gutted radio in his lap. The headphones he was wearing picked up the dialogue of multiple phone calls in the area, including...

"At least 5 guards, three definitely Gifted. Large, mechanical payload being transported by train. Schwartze Augen is involved directly, it would seem. Delivery is tomorrow, on a six a.m. train heading to Seattle's Burlington Northern shipping yard." He muttered.

***

The woman cocks her head and smiles, as though she heard someone talking as clear as day. "I've just received word on our target." Glancing to her side, she saw the two other Red Scarves approaching. "How about that maintenance room, eh?"

***

A few minutes later, the three of them were assembled in the little room, and the woman was talking into the phone-device. "So, we have a particular target in mind. This new Gifted think-tank has been set up here. Run by a Brian Jameson. He's delivering some kind of machine somewhere, by train. There'll be at least 5 guards, and three of them are guaranteed to be the Gifted Vandal, Frank Jackson, and Black Magic. Schwartze Augen is also involved. Here's the basic gist of it: They have our boss in prison. They think they're safe. We want to make them think again. We want the DA, and every other Gifted in America scared shitless of us. And a good start is showing them that nobody can stop us from taking what we want. We're well-equipped to just decimate the train, but we want to steal whatever it is Jameson has on that train. Our boss has a long-term use for it, we just want to send a message for now... "


One of the male Red Scarves sits down against a wall. "Of course, this doesn't exactly require your direct involvement. We just want you to know what we're capable of so you'll consider our offer of working together. After that, I'm sure we can come to an agreement."

The maintenance room that Oculus had assigned was indeed easy to break into- especially since it's lock appeared to have been recently battered open. The railroad building was open on all sides which made it easy for the Gifted spectator to ensure no-one would easily overhear their conversation. Inside the room the air was thick with more spheres, who were apparently waiting for the Redscarve's arrival. One of them projected Oculus's image onto the buildings interior wall, although the actual speech was still handled by the woman's 'Phone-Drone'.

"So you have an interest in the rumoured 'Ring' machine? A lot of attention has been thrown that way, lately. It's been good for business."

Oculus took particular attention when the Redscarves shared what information they knew. It would need to be corroborated, of course, but it was a lot more than she'd been able to go on up until now.
The assertion that S.A had gotten involved with Brian's organisation was confusing. Oculus knew that one of Dieters lieutenants had stuck a limited release deal with the GTF, yet she still doubted that the Namidian organisation would be willing to collaborate on any significant level; Namidian's hardly even co-operated with each other, and suggesting that one of the Survivors of Gaultown was now in league with their aggressor was almost laughable. Oculus wondered if the remaining members of Schwartze Augen were making a desperate bid to secure Dieter's freedom in the same way that had been done with Mister Green.
Likewise, the male Red Scarves's offer wasn't what she'd expected, but was anything but bad news...

"Let me see if I understand the situation: You plan to carry out an attack tomorrow, without asking for my involvement in any way whatsoever. You're only telling me your intentions so that I can... what?... watch the fireworks?"
The hologram of Oculus smiled fiercely, and removed the glasses from her face.
"...Interesting. I hope you realise what how risky it is to pass that kind of information to a professional broker for free, though. You must be confident in your chances."

In reply to Meta (msg # 26):

Jake held the phone to his ear and walked mechanically behind the hologram. There was no overt flirting or ogling now, but that would happen again later. Neither was there any noise from over the phone. He checked the signal and saw it was open so kept it to his ear.

At his quarters/cell, he thanked Lucy for the information and schedules then closed the door and walked to a chair where he sat down, places the phone on the counter, and focused inward as he waited for a response.

---

Dieter sat silently and deadly still in his chair. His mind was processing at its fastest and he was playing out scenario after scenario in his head. One of his agents had brought him the verbatim recording of Meta's request. A quick reference gave a very, very short list of possible targets. A momentary consideration narrowed it to one. He grimaced; it was a fat prize. It was no surprise that Namidian would target it. Calculations: Meta made it sound hard to figure. If that was moving, it was in play. The man's reauest was beyond difficult though. Tight security and five gifted guards were formidable defenses but he knew several Namidians for whom that would be no potent hurdle.

He pulled up an image of a certain three gifted people entering the building and guessed the three. The other two were a mystery.

He stopped suddenly and grinned. The decision had already been made.

---

Mr. Green had been silently meditating and recalibrating his own sense of himself when the phone chimed. He answered the phone and listened for a long time. He pursed his lips as the plan was revealed to him. When he set the phone down, he seemed less than happy. He touched it and the phone turned to clay then crumbled into dust. Of course, all apps and contacts routes used for this instance were being burned as he spoke. Dieter did not trust Meta even in the slightest.

Mr. Green considered the angles himself for some time before thinking about a way to communicate. He considered it for a long second then shrugged and spoke aloud, "Lucy? Do be a dear and pass along a message to Mr. Jameson. The leadership of SA has decided to accept terms as they were relayed in the phone call, excepting one condition. Neither SA nor, obviously, Dieter can be implicated in this though. Any action that would result in our exposure as directly involved, including my presence, is considered deal breaking. SA will be monitoring the caravan and providing security."

---

Back on Curacao, Dieter was pulling up images, dark web searches, and tactical spreadsheets on the area surrounding the expected starting point. He had teams scraping together all the dark web leaks on the subject and personnel at Berkley were being analyzed. He was grinning as he planned what resources to allocate and how to use them to achieve the desired goal.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:50, Wed 22 June 2016.

The man who was talking laughs. "But that's the point, see? We want people to know what we're doing. Once this little shindig is over, you can choose to work with us, or you can decline! Free country."

The woman speaks again. "We've got another, more important mission we could use your talents with. But first we want to show you what we can do for you. You could use some muscle in your own jobs, and someone else to pin it on doesn't hurt. Your little heist in New York didn't go so well with you running solo, now did it?"

"To set the rumours straight, New York wasn't that bad. It was three versus one, and my only objective at that point was to escape unscathed- which I did- _mostly."
Oculus's eyebrows chevroned as she remembered the event, although only her holographic eyes were able to express the emotion significantly.
"Unlike my opponents I was still pretty green back then. Even so, i'd have done better if they hadn't set 'Greece Lightning' loose."

She realised that she was agreeing with them. She ran two hands to flatten her spiked hair against her scalp in a gesture of indecision before it bounced back. Oculus's grin turned a touch mischievous.

"You'll have my attention tomorrow. I'm rather used to working alone, but it isn't often that someone has the boldness to offer up a demonstration, that's for damned sure."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:07, Wed 22 June 2016.

 By noon Meta had finished fully half of his own work for the day, putting together twenty square meters of heavy machinery. He wore his suit to help with the lifting and supporting of the frame's pieces. Each also needed a rather large swath of cable, power and several hundred pounds of circuit boards. He was aided by his drones, constructicons and Lucy; and able to finish in time for noon-coffee. He borrowed two things from his second and fourth floor startups: the next-gen diehard cold fusion power cell dubbed Sol2 which had achieved critical success after implementing a Brian-designed magnetic field capacitor. The next was an amazing little device which used a mesonic gift-box field, to knock out 'gift-box particles' in any area within the field, or rather it collected them. Any gifted unlucky enough to be caught within it's radius at the time of a field initializing, would be for lack of a better phrase, permanently powerless and probably debilitated. Or at least until someone figured out how to return the 'gift-boxes' to their rightful owners.


 The device he was constructing of these two parts would create a field slightly larger around than the distance between the pieces, creating a field that was potentially very large circumference-wise. It had a range of course, but with enough power it's maximum would  be almost as big as a county. As a consequence his device was massive enough that it had to be broken up into two primary modules, the smaller scaled working models he had taken to incorporate were after all, prototypes. Which led him to the final point of his machine. It was to record data on how successful it was at it's job, he suspected it would prove 98% effective with a margin of error of perhaps, 1.8% +/-. JOHNNY had already proofed nearly every part of the structure and mathematics involved.

 Now completed, Brian sat back on his haunches to study his workmanship. Already the bots were scurrying back to preassigned tasks leaving him alone to consider what was next on his prioritized list of tasks.

 Ok, he murmured into his inner-self as his thoughts interacted with the digital stream, Mr.Green still has his new gifts and drone feed. Check. Itinerary and reservations sent to Forward team and support team. Check. Taxis, trucks, forklifts, Burlington Northern Security Chief, SPD, ITDSA, JAWS-the-new-guy and his sidekick Mac, Mork and Mindy and Froggy. All set. All Fuzzmail sent, ego encrypted...

 He nodded to himself and began rolling the device into the cargo elevator. He instructed the forklift bots at the bottom of the building to retrieve it and load it into place.

 As the doors closed, he walked around to the Cook-o-tron kitchen and ordered an Italian BMT, and after he described the sandwich, it added it to the list of menu items. He munched the sandwich coffee as he considered his next steps. Lucy was already upgrading her security protocols and making sure to filter every ISP and Telecom signal that connected in the building, jammers were working. There would be no intercepted communications coming into the building without her knowing about it and letting it happen.

 Constructicons and drones were also being scheduled to be not only maintained but also printing more of them to complete all the refurbishments needed. The building was in engineering mode, foot traffic would be monitored by Lucy and JOHNNY in 2-second rotations. Those caught trespassing would first receive a locked door, and failing that, countermeasures were being implemented. He filed the last part away under code name: "CONSTRUCTOMON", as he monitored it's progress momentarily - 45% complete.

 Only one thing seemed to be problematic so far. The start of the day. Faye didn't have the resources to see things tightened up on her end.

 Brian was mid sip on his coffee as he chanced on a masterful idea. He was so struck by the idea that his coffee shot out of his pursed lips in a spray against the cook-o-tron's huge face plate. He was going to have to hack the biggest publicly traded competition that rivaled his own resources. It would be a fierce battle, since Googolplex Inc had at least one of their very own AI, very likely two or three that could work in tandem. For the work he needed, he required a very specific satellite, owned by a Googolplex Inc subidiary called Maptronic Traffic Guidance Systems or MTGS-1 for short...

 "JOHNNY," Brian said as he set his dripping mug down and left his plate, walking at a brisk pace towards his office, "battle-stations JOHNNY, let's get us a satellite."

The woman laughed. "Good to know. We await your decision eagerly." she closed the little sphere and stashed it into a little metal case.

The three of them left the room without a spoken word. However, every thought they had was shared among them, the other Red Scarves, and their leader...

Jake raised his head form his cot as his newest phone chimed. He picked it up and looked at a map. He frowned and zoomed in. Anyone with access to google maps was going to be able to follow that fucking convoy. He sighed and read the message, "Right boss."

he got up, "Lucy, can you get a message to Mr. Jameson, please. Dieter is wondering "A tank, really?" I think that he thinks that you are voiding the terms of your own agreement. I think you are challenging known, gifted terrorists to a tank fight. That might involve casualties..."

Jake chuckled then and shrugged. This was going to be an interesting fight to say the least. Ramping up the arms race was hardly ever the right tactic to him, but he was a crazed villain in rehab or some shit.

 Lucy appeared a moment later to answer Jake, "Mr.Jameson is unavoidably detained at the moment, but the agreement is not null and void. The armored vehicle is simply deterrent against any mundane forms of attack. The fleet are not intended to cover the entire western seaboard, simply provide assurance that the convoy reach it's train-yard destination. Then your bosses will be taking it from there I believe. Are there any other details you wish to understand that I am authorized to convey the answers to?"
This message was last edited by the player at 18:43, Sat 25 June 2016.

 Meta tossed his linked-sunglasses to his desktop and rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose. One of his constructicons had brought up a fresh mug of coffee with tiny whirring of servos and a hiss of hydraulic action. He plucked the coffee mug from the bots arm. All the constructicons were designed to have two such robotic arms and rode on a tracked chassis. They were essentially arms on a mobile platform.

 He was too exhausted to give the little droid a second thought, but he knew his day was getting longer before it would be time to sleep again. His body was exhausted, but his mind continued to work overtime, still half free of the constraints of his meaty body. He gulped took a huge gulp of coffee and intoned into his interface, ~keep it coming. Adjust the schedule, coffee rotations every fifteen minutes, every other cup should have a shot of espresso and chocolate.~

 The Googlplex AI battle had been nothing short of a digital scorched earth scenario. His own meaty shortcomings aside, the AI had been bested in most ways that mattered, but in the end, JOHNNY and Meta felt the twin AI's had not deserved to die. Instead they traded some info, and promised to return the cars intact if possible--which they had.

 He stretched his arms and did a quick jog in place to get his blood flowing again. This would be no time to quit.

 He picked up his sunnies again and set it on his face once more, felt the electric pull of cyberspace as he sank into it...

 First he checked all the feeds from the building that Lucy was monitoring, just to make sure she wasn't missing anything. Then he flipped his monitor onto the work happening in the sub-basement. It was progressing as anticipated, he'd finished four more constructicons overnight which was helping to speed up the process of finishing the resting place of the Ring. It would need very special accommodations so he had to make sure they weren't falling behind. LUCY had been issuing orders every five minutes(hardly a distraction for the AI intellect) all night and yesterday afternoon so they would achieve the goal by the time Faye arrived. It looked like they were ahead of schedule slightly. So it was time to divert some of the constructicons to help with the languishing task of securing the underground entrance. The first thing that had happened there was several remote sensor packages were distributed across the dark recesses of the underground waterfront using a couple drones. Second on that list was camoflaging the entrance with some of his nanomaterials. For most intents and purposes, it would appear as a concrete wall, not unlike many others down here. Though there would be some signs of the construction for a small while after it's completion.

 When Faye arrived, she would come through under one of the piers, lift the device into the Underground cave, pack concrete materials in behind her, and then head for the underground entrance where she and the Ring could finally be safe. So far everything was going off without a hitch...he knew that would soon change.

 As an aside, he began to compile a list of potential recruits while monitoring the twin convoy's progress. Tips had been pouring in on dangerous activity or breakout activity from the GTUnited initiative tip-line. Displayed on a map, the entire thing looked random, but that was only over the course of days and weeks. When they had enough info, they could begin to assemble a general histogram of trending locations for power uses and breakouts of newly Gifted individuals.

 Here was one, a young Frank Jackson, by the look of it; and another, looked to be akin to that poor Cyclops kid from the comics, except his power erupted not from the boy's eyes but rather his mouth. He called the hospital he was currently at, he'd inadvertently collapsed part of his house on him and his family. Poor kid... "Yes, this is the GTF, I've heard that you are treating a dangerous Gifted in police custody..."

 "Boss, you OK?

 Brian slammed his phone onto the table with a crack. His brain flooded with too much flashing red indicators. Froggy was dead at the bottom of the friggin' ocean, along with Faye and the Ring. JOHNNY was here and that gave him some comfort, but he had lost contact with GIPS, couldn't find her. Faye, one of the few people he could call a colleague in a very true sense of the word, was missing at the bottom of the Atlantic.

 The Chief of Naval Operations had been on the other end of that call, in it Brian had apologized for the Namidian damage to the vessels, even as he strong-armed the man proverbially. His rudimentary hack of the Chief's personal accounts had indicated that he and his wife were planning to leave for Cuba, where he could drug her and go out to the local brothels, all this he gleaned from emails, purchases, text messages, phone calls and facetimebook comments.

 The man agreed, voice trembling, that this was indeed an unfortunate accident, that he should send the Coast Guard to the Atlantic Coordinates and expect a GTF specialist team sometime soon. Brian wondered silently if he should get the man indicted, he decided against it for now. He wondered if the tremble in the Chief's voice was fear or anger...

 He also wondered if Namidians liked to be fed their own liver's raw or cooked, he thought as he buried his head in his hands. He hadn't asked for this, it had been an unprecedented opportunity, now probably gone, maybe forever if they couldn't get to Faye, it hadn't been just Faye's vision, it was something shared.

 It's too much..., came the nagging pessimistic subconscious voice that only he was privy to.

 "Father, it's ok, let me help you..." came Lucy's voice from seemingly no-where, it startled Brian. She seemed to know his feelings in a way he had not anticipated, was it feedback from his connection to the building, or was she growing so fast?

 "Thank you Lucy, Johnny, I'm fine...you know," he replied mid-stride and then turned back to his desk and again struck the surface, "on second thought. Activate Code 11, lock Mr.Green's doors and knock him out via the his computer neural implant. Give it instructions to shut down his body, a coma is probably the best he deserves. Then we are going to extract every nuance of every neuron in his head. Copy it all onto our black box drives. Then we can sort out everything he knows. We're going to keep him on ice indefinitely, so we'll need to get a IVdrip on him soon. Yes, activate Nurse Jackie for that."

 Brian put his sunglasses back on and a layer of AR rose to great him on the HUD.

 "I never told anyone I was a hero, and they just burned down their only legitimate, functional and operable way of seeing that Ring ever, I mean ever. I thought Deiter would jump at the chance. Seems he's not as smart as he thought, eh JOHNNY? Lets get ahold of the Forward Team. We have to get to Faye."

 "He got too hungry, they all did. Patching you through Boss..."

 "Gwen? Good to hear that things are okay at your end. Yes, I know, uhuh, yep. I've got a truck steering to your location now. The jig is up, they somehow figured it out. I want you to sit things out and get your ribs looked at and get up here safe, I'll send the rest of the crew to the Atlantic, tell them to check their armor-comms for details...What?"

 "Yeah, I'm fine. Yeah, I know you can read minds, Meta out," he cut the line with an irritated flick motion, "Why does everyone keep asking me that?!"
This message was last edited by the player at 08:15, Fri 29 July 2016.

Non-Canon Battle Post - Only a Small Part of Things..

Mr. Green was pacing his room and wondering how this would all work for him. Dieter's goals for sending him here were beyond his ken. That man worked at levels ahead of everything. Sometimes, Mr. Green wondered if Dieter wasn't three steps ahead of his own walking. It was unnerving to watch; it was nerve-wracking to be a fly hovering near the spider's web.

"Huh? And just how is the Spider in this scenario?"

Suddenly, an audible click was heard from the door. Green spun and his eyes opened in shock. He was a prisoner, a hostage, basically but he had never been locked in.

<green<"You should have known that a man as pessimistic as Dieter would never let a technology like that exist."</green> It was hard to know if he was chastising himself or Meta at this point. He turned to look out the windows and his eyes narrowed then snapped shut as his flared his gift to full force. He had seconds to act.

Luckily, he had not been idle the last few days as he used his gift to slowly analyze his own material makeup. The process had been sped up by being able to compare the current scan to the old scans as well as having little else to do, but he was 90% complete at most.

"Teach me to procrastinate. Should have been done yesterday after all."

He mumbled even as he started the a process a bit earlier than intended. Inside his system, the vast network of artificial relays and systems that had woven into his system began to change. Even as he activated the changes though and focused on them, he felt other areas of the network begin to change in ways he was not initiating. He felt bioelectric currents racing through his body even as other areas of the network went inert.

He struggled but fell to a knee as several pounds of titanium manifested in his body. His muscles screamed and his bones cracked. It was pain beyond imagining, but he knew it was nothing compared to what both Meta and Dieter would do to him. Key frantically targeted key systems of his physiology to remove the threat, but adding titanium to those systems was no benefit. Where his muscles and bones were concerned, he would worry about them later. Here, in his heart, brain, and lungs he worked as frantically and as carefully as possible.

Finally, Mr. Green collapsed to the floor gasping like a fish. His right lung was paralyzed as well as 30% of his body. His heart still beat slowly and his brain was clean, but he was all but incapacitated. He fell to the floor and grunted what should have been a scream of pain and frustration. He had, at most, a few minutes before he was done. He had, at least, managed to kill himself. He prepped a last use of his powers and mentally put his finger on the trigger that would turn his brain into pudding, literally.

Analyze Pudding you miscreant billionaire fuck.

CANON BATTLE POST

"Boss, you OK?

Brian slammed his phone onto the table with a crack. His vision, no, his entire brain flooded with flashing red indicators. Froggy was dead at the bottom of the friggin' ocean, along with Faye and The Ring. JOHNNY was here and that offered some comfort, but he lost contact with GIPS; she just wasn't anywhere! Faye, one of the few people he could truly call a colleague, was missing at the bottom of the Atlantic.

The Chief of Naval Operations had been on the other end of that call. And in that "top-level" call, Brian had apologized for the Namidian damage to the vessels before strong-arming the man into letting the GTF take control of the recovery operation. His rudimentary hack of the Chief's personal accounts had indicated that he and his wife were planning to leave for Cuba, where he could drug her and go out to the local brothels. Since he gleaned all this from emails, purchases, text messages, phone calls, and FaceTimeBook comments - it really was a simple sleight-of-hand to uncover all his debauchery.

The man agreed, voice trembling, that it was indeed an unfortunate accident and that he should send the Coast Guard to the Atlantic Coordinates and expect a GTF specialist team sometime soon. Brian wondered silently if he should get the man indicted, but decided against it for now. Idly, he wondered if the tremble in the Chief's voice was fear or anger...

He also wondered if Namidians liked to be fed their own liver's raw or cooked as he buried his head in his hands. He hadn't asked for this: it had been an unprecedented opportunity now probably gone, maybe forever. If they couldn't get to Faye, it was over. It hadn't been just Faye's vision, it was his as well, but now she was the only one who could save it - if she was even still alive.

It's too much..., came the pessimistic subconscious voice that only he was privy to.

"Father, it's ok, let me help you..." came Lucy's voice from seemingly no-where, startling Brian. She seemed to know his feelings in a way he had not anticipated; was this empathy the product of his physiological connection to the building, or was his creation's mind really growing so fast?

"Thank you Lucy, Johnny, I'm fine...you know," he replied mid-stride and then turned back to his desk and again struck the surface. "On second thought, activate Code 11, lock Mr.Green's doors and knock him out via the his computer neural implant. Give it instructions to shut down his body, a coma is probably the best he deserves. Then we are going to extract every nuance of every neuron in his head. Copy it all onto our black box drives. Then we can sort out everything he knows. We're going to keep him on ice indefinitely, so we'll need to get a IV drip on him soon. Yes, activate Nurse Jackie for that."

Brian put his sunglasses back on and a thick layer of AR arose to greet him on the HUD.

"I never told anyone I was a hero, and they just burned down their only legitimate, functional and operable way of ever, ever seeing that Ring. I thought Dieter would jump at the chance to take it. Seems he's not as smart as he thought, eh JOHNNY? Lets get a hold of the Forward Team. We have to get to Faye."

"He got too hungry, they all did. Patching you through, Boss..."

"Gwen? Good to hear that things are okay at your end. Yes, I know, uhuh, yep. I've got a truck steering to your location now. The jig is up, they somehow figured it out. I want you to sit things out and get your ribs looked at and get up here safe. I'll send the rest of the crew to the Atlantic, tell them to check their armor-comms for details...What?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Yeah, I know you can read minds, Meta out," he cut the line with an irritated flick motion. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?!"

---

Elsewhere within the living compound, Mr. Green was pacing his room and wondering how this would all work out for him. Dieter's goals for sending him here were beyond his ken. That man worked at levels ahead of everything. Sometimes, Mr. Green wondered if Dieter wasn't three steps ahead of his own walking. It was unnerving to watch; it was even more nerve-wracking to be a fly hovering near the spider's web.

"Huh? And just who is the spider in this scenario?"

Suddenly, an audible click was heard from the door. Green spun and his eyes opened in shock. He was a prisoner, a hostage, basically, but he had never been locked in.

"You should have known that a man as pessimistic as Dieter would never let a technology like that exist!" screamed Green.

It was hard to know if he was chastising himself or Meta at this point. He turned to look out the windows. His eyes narrowed, then snapped shut as his Gift flared to full force. He had seconds to act.

Luckily, he had not been idle the last few days; he had been using his gift to slowly analyze his own material makeup. The process had been sped up by being able to compare the current scan to the old scans as well as having little else to do, but he was only 90% complete at most.

"Teach me to procrastinate. Should have been done yesterday."

He mumbled even as he started the a process a bit earlier than he had intended. Inside his body, the vast network of artificial relays and systems that Meta had woven into him began to warp and change. Even as he activated the changes and focused on them, he felt other areas of the network begin to change in ways he had not predicted. He felt bio-electric currents racing through his body even as various areas of his internal network went inert.

He struggled, but soon fell to one knee as several pounds of titanium manifested in his body. His muscles screamed and his bones cracked, but he'd worry about them later. It was pain beyond imagining, but it was nothing compared to what either Meta or Dieter would do to him. He frantically targeted key points in order to shut down Meta's invasion, but adding titanium to those systems was of little benefit. His heart, brain, and lungs were holding on even though their outer layers were being transformed; they clung to life as if something was willing them to live on for just a second more!

Finally, Mr. Green collapsed to the floor, gasping like a fish. His right lung was paralyzed as well as 30% of his body. His heart still beat slowly and his brain was clean, but he was all but incapacitated. He fell to the floor and grunted out what should have been a scream of pain and frustration. He had, at most, a few minutes before he was done. He prepped a last use of his powers and mentally put his finger on the trigger that would turn his brain into pudding, literally.

Analyze pudd-pudding, you miscreant billionaire fuuuuc-k.

For an instant, Mr. Green felt an incredible calm envelop him. Then he felt nothing as the whole world just turned off and his eyes rolled back into his head. Mr. Green's mangled body began to breathe struggled, belabored breaths once more. At the very zenith of his defiance, Meta had conquered him.

---

Brian let out a bitter, hoarse scoff of a laugh.

"Neither of them's as smart as they thought, JOHNNY."

A relatively detailed ITSDA file on Mr. Green sat on the computer screen in front of him; he had scrolled down to the "Personality Profile" section. Meanwhile, an X-Ray map of Green's internal network took up most of his HUD's real estate. Red areas on and near his most physiologically critical points, including his brain and the base of his spinal column, denoted targets Mr. Green was most likely to hit. Blue spots, including one hidden in a lymph node behind his ear, indicated "safe zones." And it was from the lymph node zone that his nano-machine minions had struck, rapidly disabling Mr. Green's consciousness the moment his neural implant's signal was interrupted.

It was not pretty, being truly prepared for the worst. But Meta had found that, when dealing with Namidians, it was necessary.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:00, Thu 08 Sept 2016.

The moment the chopper's wheels touched the helipad atop GTFUnited, Gwen knew things were far from well. The entire building radiated an aura of caution surrounding a tight nucleus of frustration and seething anger. It was as if the building and its master reflected her own soul at the moment. Despite Brian's insistence she sit this out, she wasn't about to be stopped by a small amount of physical pain... not when she knew she could help find Faye. It was yesterday that she had discovered what she was willing to cross lines for; the moment she realized that her connection with her partner was truly and absolutely silent.

That morning as the sun rose she left her hospital room, turning all eyes away from her as she made her way to the roof and the helipad that sat atop it. Without hesitation, she used her Gift to convince the crew of one med chopper that there was an emergency further into the city. As the chopper flew without a flight plan further into the city, it was quickly joined by police and news choppers; an escort that, after a moment of insisting they desist, quickly silenced and fell into a defensive formation. She knew as they approached the building that Brian's defenses would ID her, and wouldn't stop her from landing.

As she made her way to the opening door, she released the mass of people from her control. They would return to where they were supposed to be in an organized fashion, destroy all video recording devices and memory, then forget the entire incident. Shaking her head as she continued walking, she fully realized that she had been irrevocably changed. The memory of the encounter with the Bodhisattva was burned into her soul; the same place she could feel its tentacle of malice and ego writhing within her. She knew it had already corrupted her, the evidence was clear in the way her previous limitation of line-of-sight seemed to no longer be applicable, as well as in the way she had used it for personal gain at the expense of others without batting an eye. Making a note in her phone's journal, reminding her future self to meditate and seek acceptance of self through all change, she stepped into the elevator.

The door to Brian's office opened, and Vandal took the time to rap her knuckles a few times against the solid surface to let her boss know she was there. She seemed more reserved than usual, not her usual more carefree self; it was as though something heavy weighed on her mind, and for sure the burden she felt must have been great indeed if she were willing to interrupt Meta at such a delicate time.

 Brian had been deeply intent on finding out the whereabouts of Faye and he had spent who knew how long working on the issue. So far, to no avail. As far as he could tell there was no trace of her except the momentary signature of her location deep within the Atlantic Ocean half a world away. Satellite GPS seemed to be completely useless, likewise wifi traffic polling, facial recognition in the world wide surveillance networks and his latest, perhaps his most desperate attempts via googleplex-tubes uploaded videos. So he was disturbed already when Vandal knocked on the door to his workroom.

 He looked up from his work and peeled his glasses off and blinked away crusty sleep around his eyes. He was irritated already but he put that away in lieu of the proverbial weight that Sarah was carrying in her expression, "Sarah, hey, what's going on? Sorry I've been slightly incommunicado over the last few days."

Vandal took a deep breath, then walked into the office and up to Brian's desk allowing the door to shut behind her. She knew her boss wasn't in the best place emotionally, but if anything she hoped that would make him all the better to help her with her own problem.

"I know you've got a lot on your plate right now, but I needed to ask you something; what do you think of Frank?"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fJ9rUzIMcZQ

 Hushed music could be heard under the hood of the glasses as he sets them down.

 Meta blinked absently for a moment, then he ran a practiced hand through his dishevelled hair. "Well, he's a brilliant tactician, noble to a fault, he's got power but knows how to restrain it. Frank knows what it means to be a symbol, but doesn't seek out status. On the other hand he's got a certain amount of toxic masculinity that will seek to deprive him of certain emotional needs, needs that everyone need fulfilled supposedly," Brian said with a quizzical expression that said he had wondered about this a few times, "He's got the dual sides of super-toughness and emotional vulnerability. He's a soldier and a patriot, which both present strong features and certain weaknesses."

 Brian took a sip from his Jolt cola and rubbed his eyes and then took a deeper look at Vandal, searching her expressions.

 "What I admire about him is that he manages to balance it all with grace and humility, amazing, very much like you do. An amazing balancing act that I believe may be what bring you both together," Brian stated without any sign of contempt or hostility, simply as fact in his own mind and an admission of honest appraisal. "You alright?"

Instead of answering directly, Vandal walked to the wall of windows in her boss' office and cast her gaze out them. She was silent for almost a full minute, but just as the silence might have been growing awkward she resumed talking.

"You're smart and I'm fast, but you can't outwit Death no more than I can outrun the Grim Reaper. In a thousand years maybe this city will be nothing but dust, but if so it'll blow up against his boots. He can't be killed or age, so it's possible he might outlast the very sun itself."

Vandal then turned from her viewpoint, to look her employer in the eye.

"He's immortal and often times invincible, like some Ancient God; but instead of distancing himself from the rest of us, he treats us like equals and friends.
why do you think he does that, when our lifespans must seem painfully short to him?"

 Brian nodded, "he's a man of the moment. He's whatever he needs to be I think," Brian says joining her by the window to look out, "but I think you are correct. He does treat us like equals and friends. I don't know for sure, why, he does it. Though I think it has something to do with the fact that he doesn't feel like he's above us. Powers are one thing, being more than a human is another. It's easy to think that power could give you everything you need, but take it from someone whose only Gift is deep analysis, it can't. Otherwise we wouldn't be so helpless to find Faye, to stop Namidians on any more than a superficial scale. Therein lies your answer, we need each other."

 Brian leaves the view, walking back to his desk and takes another sip of his drink. Brian smiles faintly, his thoughts were as much an acceptance of their defeat as it was that he needed all of them as well. "So are you gonna tell me what's up or do I have to get Gwen in here to help me read your mind?"

This message was deleted by the player at 21:03, Mon 05 Dec 2016.

For as brilliant as Brian was, what he witnessed next was something even his towering intelligence could not have figured possible let alone probable; Vandal Grew tongue-tied as a flush a red invaded her cheeks.

"It's just that... I mean with all of what's... I mean..."

The young woman finally stopped floundering, drew in a deep breath, and tried again.

"My mother was a lawyer thanks to night school, and managed to land herself a less than glamorous job as a Assist District Attorney drone prosecuting random criminals as their files crossed her desk. Nothing high profile of course, those cases are fewer than TV would have us believe and are always reserved for the senior ADA, the District Attorney themselves, or some fresh faced kid out of someplace like Harvard who's parents have the clout to arrange him getting it. Not constantly, but more than once I'd hear about someone or another who got released on a technicality, slipped through some crack, got overlooked somehow, or got granted bail for no sound reason and then ran.

"I had heard about Frank Jackson since before I had my Gift, the media making him out to be a hero one minute and a rogue Agent the next working without authority. When I joined the ITSDA I heard a ton of stories about him, and finally got curious enough to look at his file myself. Did you know he's been married, and had kids? They were killed by some punk Frank arrested but walked on a technicality, who had come looking for him. I think I started to understand then, why he tried his hardest to get the guilty regardless of what some rule scribbled down by someone who didn't know what it was like out in the world. While I was active with the organization, I began to see that there were times you couldn't wait for ink to dry and someone to return a phone call, or else more innocence than could otherwise be helped would suffer and you'd have to live with that face for the rest of your life. For Frank, that's pretty much literally forever.

"He gave us a choice, said we could stay behind and not join him on his unsanctioned mission to the restaurant. Then even after we had all willingly made our choice, he stood up before a war crimes court and took all the blame to shield us. He was a POW for two years, a cop for decades, and yet knowing the kind of evil humans are capable of without the need of Gifts he still believes in and defenses us. The world at large called him a villain back when our kind first became known to the public, but in the face of hateful words and protests he still placed himself between Mankind and danger. I fully believe if there was no ITSDA, GTF, or anything of the like, he would continue fighting on even if all he had was his two bare fists. He's got plenty of muscles, but I think the biggest one is his heart.

"You're right in what you first said, he's him from the surface all the way to his core. The real thing, and not some pretty boy pretender."

The hero could feel her face grow hotter, and wondered if it was possible to spontaneously combust which she then considered might be preferable to this conversation. She tried again, hoping to do better while at the same time thinking she couldn't do worse. She wouldn't have minded a member of the Wave attacking the building right about then, since when fighting she had confidence.

"What I'm trying to say is Frank lost people he loved, he's my friend and I don't want to lose that, and I'll die of old age while he's still riding the highways and byways. So my head says leave things as they are between us, but at times when I'm around or even thinking of him it's not my brain talking to me. We haven't been friends for too long and you're my boss, but you're also the smartest guy I know and if anyone can help me figure out what to do I hoped it be you."

 "I'm honored that you'd place such worth in my ideas and thoughts. I can't tell you what to do," he said and gave a low huff, "but I can tell you that were I in your shoes, I'd be asking myself if that's worth it or not. If it is, then I'd consider the matter done with. You can't beat yourself up about it, because the fact of the matter is that we are each dealt the hand we're given. If you regret anything, it's already too late to do anything about it. So you'll have to weigh it, either decide that you'll stay with him 100% until you die or make the decision to let go. The limbo you've found yourself in has got to be killing you."

 "Excuse me Brian and Sarah," Lucy said into the intercom, "but I believe we have a priority communication from the ITSDA..."

 Brian whirled around and looked to the overhead speaker, "Patch it through Lucy! Thanks!"

The wall screen blipped from its monitoring services and enlarged a file to full screen. Val's voice could be heard on other end of the line, a low hush of chatter in the ITSDA communications room as the video clip played...



Meta looked at Sarah with a blip of surprise on his face. "They don't know that Faye's MIA. We'll have to get Gwen in on this one...let's get suited up."


At the same second it was said, Lucy appeared outside Gwen's apartment, and when she knocked the sound emitted into the room from the door intercom. "Sorry to disturb you, but something's happened. Brian will need to you and the others quite soon. We've just received word from The Commander requiring Faye's presence."

The door remained closed for a few moments, although the soft sound of motion could be heard coming from inside. When the portal did finally swish open, a red-eyed and forlorn young girl came walking out... the confident Nobel Laureate noticeably absent in her demeanor. For the first time since Faye went missing Gwen had finally had a moment, safe and elevated in a hub of humanity here at GTF, to truly plumb the world in an effort to find her partner. If there was a question at this point as to the scientist's whereabouts, the answer could clearly be read on her partner's face and in her posture. For Gwen, there seemed little doubt as to the fate of the one she held most dear; indeed, there were still tears brimming along the lower lid of her eyes, their freshness brought on no doubt by the AI simply saying Faye's name.

"Ok Lucy," she replied, pausing to close her eyes and take a deep breath in an effort to still the tremor in her voice. A second breath was needed to truly accomplish this goal, but when she opened her eyes again they were no longer watery. Beneath the surface of those twin blue orbs, a cold and dark anger was stirring. "Ok. I'm ready. Let's see what the bastard wants."

The Commander. She had 'heard' his moniker a handful of times when she had searched the possible places Faye might have gone. The lab had been the first, still near enough for her to stretch out and scan the minds of the people of the city. It hadn't taken her long to suss out a portion of what had happened there, enough to ascertain that Faye hadn't targeted the lab as her wormhole exit. She knew the man had been one of the parties seeking to take or sabotage the Ring, and that he had instead taken hostages. As Lucy quietly led her to Brian's office, Gwen had to reminded herself with every footstep that what she thought she knew was only a narrative... a repeated reminder that did nothing to dull the pain or quell the rage she felt. Even knowing that The Commander was merely an easy scapegoat for her emotions at the moment did little to curb the bitterness and malice that she could feel growing inside her.

Still, despite the storm churning within her when they finally arrived at Brian's office, the moment the doors opened and she saw him... all she could see was all the times the three of them had worked together. Memories as vivid as the moment they were lived flooded her mind along with the memory of the bond and the link they had all shared; a memory that now scraped against the gaping hole in her psyche that was once occupied by another mind, one she knew as intimately as hers was known. The storm was immediately blown away, the rain cascading instead from her eyes despite what others might be in attendance. With a sob, she put her hands over her face and sagged heavily against the door frame, all fight suddenly gone from her form.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:21, Mon 12 Dec 2016.

Sarah disappeared in a blur upon hearing Brian tell her to get ready, returning in seconds now donned in her GTF field gear. There was an eruption of black smoke, and from it emerged Black Magic with his hand on Frank's shoulder. The older man had been in the process of lighting a cigarette, and finished the action before speaking out of the side of his mouth.

"Vandal said you needed us, Boss. What's up?"

About then Gwen made it as far as the doorway, and dissolved into tears. Once more Peter vanished, only to reappear in front of the distraught woman holding out a handkerchief.

 As Gwen joined them, Lucy appeared near the red haired woman, who was still bruised but seemed to be on the mend. Brian nodded to the team as they began to join him and made note to get their gear if they needed any. "Great, let's get onboard the GTF1, Johnny, we'll need an inflight sitrep. We've got a hair thin schedule if we want to get Gwen and Faye's people out alive."

 As the lights came down to a minimum and the modified songbird began peeling away from the launchpad a few minutes later, a scrolling of pictures and maps appeared on the wall screen in the team cabin. Johnny's rich voice penetrated the shade. "Ladies and Gentlemen, The Commander has Gwen and Faye's team of researchers from UC Berkley Particle Physics Department. He says he wants a meeting with Faye and Brian in the old stadium in Boura, that's where we're headed. He signalled that he wanted to meet with only Brian and Faye or their proxies and any bodyguards. That leaves up to four of us on the scene."

 Brian watched under his own datalink sunglasses as messages and emergencies seemed to begin to boil to the surface. "We also have other problems that need attention. Namely the Atlantis Installation, multiple safeguards are going off there. However there's also been multiple seismic activity detected in Toronto, though we don't have Gift sensors in Canada yet, there may be a link to increased gift activity detected there...So we'll have to split up after landing. I'll put Johnny on Toronto, see what he can uncover about the situation there. We need someone to liaison with the ITSDA to make sure the big guns come out for this," Brian took a breath and instinctively ran a hand through his dishevelled hair. He realized he hadn't shaved in a week either. "so I need a volunteer for that, but I'd rather just have Frank take care of that, my analysis indicates that you've got a grudge with Commander, not to say I trust the guy, but we may not want to antagonize him either."

 Lucy appeared on another window, "Lockdown procedures are in place for the top ten stories of the Ranier building Brian."

 Brian nodded to the transmission and turned to look at Gwen questioningly, "Is there any way you can help shield us from the Commander's hypnotic control, if you're up to it?"
This message was last edited by the player at 06:35, Mon 12 Dec 2016.

For an instant a wave of animosity towards Brian rose up within Gwen, igniting a short internal struggle against herself. His apparent lack of empathy in this situation was a gross slight; yet it was that knowledge that it was a simple slight that led her to release her frustration. After all, these were some of the qualities Brian possessed that Faye had respected above all others. The man was focused, driven, and didn't let personal issues stop him from continuing to take the weight of the world upon himself. Faye had shared those same qualities, and it was for that reason that the two had become such good friends. In his face it could clearly be seen that the responsibility he had chosen was heavier than this building he had created, and whatever feelings he was suffering were only floors inside it. Just like Faye, he would keep his pain to himself in order to keep it from hurting others and keep it from being used to cut him deeper.

Taking a page from his book, she calmed herself, gratefully accepting the handkerchief from Peter. "Thanks," she said quietly after cleaning off her face and lightly blowing her nose. As they collectively made their way to the waiting aircraft, Gwen divided her attention and delved within herself. Using her Gift, she began to shut off the areas of her brain that were responsible for certain emotional reactions, along with a handful of memory links. She didn't need to be an emotional girl right now, she needed to be a powerful young woman, and she couldn't do that if even the sound of Brian and Johnny's voices threatened to send her to tears. Satisfied that she wouldn't be overcome once again, she paused to listen to the AI and Brian's briefing.

"I don't know, but if his ability is related in any way to the psychic spectrum I can counter it," she replied to his question, standing tall and feeling strong once again. "If it's not psychic based, it will depend on what he says to begin with. Depending on his orders, I might be able to shut off the parts of everyone's brains that respond to his Gift."

As she spoke, she made her way toward Brian until she was beside him. Indicating she wished to speak to him privately, she placed a hand on his arm and opened a low-level mental link. He would be able to hear thoughts she projected to him as if they were audible, and she'd hear the same from him. He probably already knew what she was about to tell him, or at least rated the probability as 'most likely', but he needed to know for sure; and there was something she needed to know as well.

"Brian, you need to know Faye's not alive anymore," she said calmly. A small part of her was satisfied that her earlier brain-jacking was doing its job, blocking her ability to feel the jagged rawness of those words tearing through her soul. "She's not likely in the ocean either. If she were somewhere on Earth, dead or alive, I'd have been able to find her by now. Either she's somewhere near the planet's core, or she's not on the planet anymore at all."

She paused for a moment to let her words sink in, and let him apply the new information to his plans; but before he could reply she put a finger up. "Brian, I need you to tell me who is directly responsible for this. I need to know whose decision it was to kill my love. I know you don't need my Gift to know why I need this information, just like you know I don't need to ask. Who dropped the bomb?" Her blue eyes turned to ice as she said the words, the anger and shock Faye felt as she tried to evade the attack making it past Gwen's guard and cutting dangerously from behind her gaze; a latent curse from beyond the grave seeking its worthy target.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:40, Mon 12 Dec 2016.

 Brian's first thought was disbelief as Gwen laid it on him, "Are you sure? No, you're right. I've not been able to detect her anywhere on Earth..."

 He fumbled for words after that, but couldn't find the right ones. He reached back into his own mind and laid a calming hand on it, stilled it for a second and took a deep breath. This week he'd had almost nothing else on his mind. It couldn't be helped, he'd cared deeply for Faye, her mind, vision and strength of will, respect for her power. A plutonic love might've been a better word for what they'd shared, what they could've accomplished together. He grieved in his own way, and his almost autistic way of compartmentalizing his feelings made him bite his lip now as they rushed to the surface with Gwen's words.

 He nodded spastically and recalled his analytical research on the incident after it went down, "It was the Schwartze Augen, these are the people who did this. I suspect one of Dieter Sievold's doubles gave the order, he's the leader of the terrorist organization. Though he was working with the Commander and his men, and that's why they've got your Berkley team. There was an SA jet that was cloaked from radar, but not visual satellite imagery. They had a very good hacker and engineer design that bomb. Someone I've not yet personally been able to find, though they left clues."

 He took a gulp of air before continuing, "there's something else. We've got an ace, a Namidian called Mr.Green, until this week he's been in contact with his boss. I've put him into a coma so that we could download his memories, but there's some problems. Even in his current state he's resisting, probably because of SA conditioning."

Seeing the impact her statement made on Brian, Gwen was quick to wrap him in a hug. Shutting off those parts of her own brain hadn't removed her ability to empathize, even if she wasn't currently able to feel the pain herself. Instead, it was like watching someone else have the emotions you knew you were supposed to have. It was disjointing, but better this than turning into a sobbing wreck again. No doubt it was worse for Brian... in order for him to use his Gift, Gwen couldn't temporarily rewire him to keep him from the feeling.

"I'm sorry it had to be now, like this, but you needed to know," she apologized, kicking herself slightly for her crappy timing. She had wanted to tell him in his office, in private, but the world waited for no-one it seemed. "Thank you for telling me who was responsible. When we return from this mission, would you let me help in prying the information you seek from this Green's mind? I doubt he will prove capable of resisting my Gift, especially in the midst of a coma."

Frank took a drag on his cancer stick, then held up a hand.

"Whoa whoa whoa, hold on here a minute, Boss; The Commander and I are both military trained, but I've got loads of experience over him. He plots and plans, I hit the ground running and improvise. He can't repict me, or what I'll do. As for having a grudge against him, I don't anymore than other so called freedom fighters who like to play soldier. If things go bad, I'm the best counter you have to him. Cutting me out of the action seems like a bad call, just saying."

 Brian nodded in response to Gwen's last question, saltwater pooling in his eyes. He blinked it away but it fell across his face in straight lines.

 Brian diverted his attention back to the rest of the crew and wiped at his face, "Okay, I'm willing to take that, the question in my mind currently is what we can do if the Commander orders you to take us down. We don't know for sure that Gwen's powers will be able to protect us and if that's so, we'll be taking a hell of a risk since there's no easy way to take you out of the equation, nor anyone to lead the GTF if something happens to us. Though perhaps Black Magic will be a up to the task of meeting up with ITSDA concerning this emergency at the RIF. Any comments on that plan, Magic?"

 Brian was used to taking everything into account, including his own possible demise. The fact that he'd let slip that he wanted one of them to lead the GTF if anything happened to him was no small thing, but the matter-of-factly way he said it aloud spoke of his trust in his team.

(Edit: Sorry, wanted to finish a response for Gwen too.)
This message was last edited by the player at 08:05, Wed 14 Dec 2016.

Black Magic gave one of his customary bows to Brian.

"While I do take much pride in your confidence that I could run matters in your stead, and I know he would prefer to be out in the front lines with you, I would be remiss if I did not say that I too agree Mister Jackson should be the one to hold the keys to your kingdom should the unfortunate happen. To me he proved this during the battle four of us here shall always remember, when he let us into both combat and to victory. I do not have any such experience, nor do I have the wisdom of his years. As for The Commander's power, though I have not had mush call to use it I possess something the same. It is possible such will prevent me from falling to his influence, or perhaps not yet I find myself willing to take that risk."

Frank opened a corner of his mouth to say something, but it seemed he could find no rebuttal since he stepped back from the group. He looked at the faces before him, and let out a nicotine tainted sigh.

"Much as I hate to miss out on a good fight, you're right Magic Man and Egg Head; what the GTF stands for can only be truly understood by those who were there that night, we original four. For it to stay the course and become what we want, one of us needs to be in charge of it. I'm not much one for a desk job, and the ITSDA thought I couldn't lead a horse to water, but if this meeting goes south there's got to be someone to face The Commanders of tomorrow.

"OK Bri, log me into your fancy computer, and I'll try not to burn the place down until you get back...""\

The old man stopped speaking for a moment, and looked each person present directly in the eye.

<royalred>"...and you ARE coming back."<royalred>

 Brian sniffed putting his feelings away again as he tapped in access for Frank, "ok, we can stop with the pep talks now, we're almost there. JOHNNY, what's the situation from the air look like?"

 Johnny-5's voice came up again, slightly buffered sounding, a likely effect of spreading himself thinly, "there's a few vehicles outside the stadium, but that doesn't mean they're working. There's a dozen people in the center of the ruined structure, many of which are likely the hostages. Picking up a few hundred joules of Gift energy being used down there, whoever it is, is quite powerful."

 "Ok, Frank you're good to go on any frequency you choose, Johnny is able to connect you to whoever is necessary," Brian looked to the others and paused on Gwen, "how do you want to play this in Faye's absence? I don't think they know that she's gone, since they requested her by name."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:53, Mon 19 Dec 2016.

"I'd like to be honest," Gwen replied, eyes hardening. "Faye would have wanted honesty, to keep her staff safe and to set the story to right. Yet I'm not sure if it would be smart..." she hesitated. Thinking about the consequences of another party locating both Faye and her creation and using both of them for nefarious reasons set her teeth on edge. "I think I'll follow your lead." *Just remember, I have all the most important memories for the Ring locked in my head, just like you. It was the failsafe we insisted on. If lies are needed, we can make them convincing*"

The last was a final mental message to Brian, the connection fuzzing out as she stepped away from him and leaned against the bulkhead. It was the crumbtrail that Brian would be able to follow for access to all the impossible-to-comprehend quantum data that their past Combine had encoded into their memories. It would take him a while to work through it, but eventually he'd be able to understand the Ring and operate it. Included were Faye's memories and plans for her grav-lifters and -shifters, how she intended to industrialize and commercialize her power, and the math which worked behind Faye's power. That final gift would allow Brian to continue Faye's work in developing gravity and anti-gravity engines, as well as any other device he could think of that could make use of gravity manipulation.

This was Faye's legacy, her Will for the world: That every person could have the means to take to the sky and the universe beyond it, and find their own paradise. It was this perfect goal for humanity, this selfless giving of her Gifts and her time, that had been taken from the world. Gwen would make sure those people responsible would feel the void left behind by the assassination of such a person capable of investment of will and intent.

 As Gwen moved away from him, he gave her a shocked look, "...but."

 He pursed his lips, and nodded with a dawning smile. "Okay, main objective will be to get our people to safety, we only owe them that. Otherwise if this becomes about what the Commander wants us to do, up to and including his Gift, we can take this to the next level, all bets are off. We won't let him strong arm us into being his trained monkeys. Remember you have to hear the Commander's words in order for them to work...but he's probably not alone down there from Johnny's readings. So stay frosty."

 The plane came in fast and found an open area where the stadium parking used to be, aside from some rubble and old burned out cars, it was still useable. Using the craft's VTOL capabilities it set down without a runway. Brian picked up his climbing harness and his chameleon gloves for his only gear. "See ya later Frank, we'll give you a signal, not a radio band to hear us if we need anything and are ready for pickup, gotta separate these things when we're dealing with hypnotic voices."

Brian stepped out of the back of the beast and slapped the bulkhead twice for good measure before turning towards the stadium.

To Boura - Metropolitan Husk (Location 1)-------->

The sound of the helicopter blades chopping through the night air brought Cimmeria to calculative consciousness. She had been lost in thought, analyzing the strategy she had set up before they even boarded. Old Man Jenkins, Satsuki, and herself would jump from the ‘chopper and land upon Meta’s technological fortress. Though some intel had been gathered through Namidian Wave resources, Cimmeria was essentially entering blind. Under normal circumstances, she would hang back and gather more information, disguise herself and go into deep cover for a month. Her partners made her confident though. Their powers were built for offense, whereas Cimmeria had to be clever with her own in a fight.

Jenkins still wore the threadbare pink cardigan and khaki pants, he sat a crossed from Cim, his doll-like eyes staring through her. Satsuki piloted the helicopter, her katana propped up in the co-pilot seat.

“Arrival in two minutes ma’am.” Satsuki’s voice cut through the whirr of the blades.

Unsnapping her security harness, Cimmeria replied: “Follow the protocol we set up beforehand. You both know the plan. If you grow out of control Old Man, we will leave you. Understood?” Jenkin’s nodded with an odd rhythm, never taking his eyes off the teleporter. Cim got to her feet, grabbed a parachute off the wall, strapped it to her back and jumped out the open side of the ‘chopper. Jenkins followed her, not grabbing a pack. Alone in the cockpit, Satsuki angled the helicopter downwards, pointing it straight at Meta’s tower. In a blur she exited as well.

The trio fell from the sky like tiny meteorites. Below the helicopter crashed into the side of the tower with a small explosion. A fire started to spread, activating multiple alarms. Cimmeria meant for this to act as a distraction as they made their entrance through the roof. They landed on the roof, Cim’s parachute falling behind her like the train of wedding dress. Old Man Jenkin’s landed next to her with a sickening crunch, though he looked fine. Satsuki appeared beside out as if she just manifested from thin air.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:16, Wed 05 July 2017.

 As the trio landed on the rooftop, they felt the slight sway of the earthquake proof building support, the result of the explosive landing of the chopper. Ahead at the bay airlock low klaxons began to sound, the building began to awaken.

 Lucy came to full awareness while her rest cycle was still aborting it's defragmenting processes. She figuratively shook off the sleep and reached out to her sensors, polling each one for data...

~Incendiary explosion at levels 11, 12 and 14. Integrity holding at 93%~
 ~Fire suppression systems engaged.~
 ~Counting casualties...1~
 ~Kimberly Lance, Security contractor. Last reported on quarter-hourly rounds.
 ~New casualty detected(2): Jim Lee, Artist.~

 Elsewhere she responded to the few people still inside the building. "There has been a security breach on our building walls. Please make your way to the emergency lifts in the central axis of the building and report to the bunker sub-level. Security lockdown is engaging."

 Lights on the floors began to guide them towards emergency elevators that would take them to safety. It was mostly a few wayward youth and other workers still inside the building.

 Lucy winced, she had just said 'good night' to Kimberly. She dispatched drones the three levels, 11-14, to search the wreckage for bodies she may have missed on those floors and mind the VW bug sized hole in the wall. Examining debris under the fire suppression system, it appeared to be the husk of a helicopter strewn about, but mostly wrapped around the hole in the plasti-steel reinforcement, and still melting because of the heat of that burning fuel. The nearest drone began to overheat even though the fire was mostly out yet still had to take a back seat to the search as another cycled a safer distance away.

 Seconds later Lucy continued her vigilant sweeps...and was rewarded.
 ~Ping!~ Security protocol sensors have identified three powered signatures on the rooftop. Getting camera images...
  Gift analysis underway...Moving countermeasures to intercept.

Tom had retired last month. His firm had been hired to install some of the physical infrastructure of that new monstrosity erected lately and the cash had been more than enough to retire. Not just retire, but buy that boat he had always wanted and spend most days out on Puget Sound fishing his golden years away. So waht if he had retired around age 45 due to the windfall? Some people just got lucky.

He was jut swigging another pleasant mouthful of his favorite IPA when his line started to play our rapidly. Whatever was on the other side was huge and moving fast! He grabbed the rod and pulled hard to set the hook then mentally prepared for the game to commence. He loved this part of his hobby. The tension and patience it took to reel in the big fish was exciting, exhilirating.

Except, the line went slack. Whatever it was had moved toward the boat. He reeled in the line rapidly but the slack persisted. He was not reeling fast enough to keep up with it? Suddenly, his boat rocked as something hit it then his heart leaped into his mouth as a hand grasped the rail of his boat. It was followed quickly by a mop of dark hair, a lean tanned form, and a wolfish grin. The boy was wearing some kind of weird wetsuit filled with holes: some intentional and a few tears.

"Yo, pops, is this Seatt..."

The kids cocky mouth trailed off as he looked over Tom's shoulder. Tom followed the gaze to the massive tower he had helpoed construct.

"Wow! That thing's fucking massive. I guess this is the place. So, could you pull the hook outta my head, man? It's kinda harshin my buzz."

The youth indicated where Tom's hook had been set into his scalp. A trickle of blood mixed with the sea water trailing down the side of his face and Tom felt a bit faint. Still, he grabbed the needle-nose pliers out of his toolbox and set to work. A second later he dropped the hook to dangle from his pole and eed the wound. "YOu'll live, kid."

"Thanks, pops. A few years ago, I might have robbed you. Buuuut, don't want to mess up my agreement with ITSDA, do I?"

Thus said, the youth set a foot on the boat's rail, grinned again, and dove into the ocean. Tom peered for several long minutes but saw nothing. He scratched his head, shrugged, baited his hook again, and cast the reel one more time. "This time, let's just catch a salmon or some sea bass, fer chrissakes?"

The Seattle branch of the Red Scarves was doing well. Their assimilation of locals was swift and orderly, without so much as a shred of evidence left behind. They were actually ahead of schedule, the first branch to have a full roster of twenty-five. This was much to their liking, or so they dimly registered, deep within the shattered remains of their psyches. Now that they had this much, five of them were preparing to move to a new location and set up. However, the Seattle branch also needed a leader. A proper leader: A Red Scarf. The soldier-like Drones could only do so much: They needed someone with higher brain functions still intact. Only their leader could create one, and only if they were already Gifted.

So when their stolen, re-purposed Power Suppressor from the Prison detected a new Gifted in Seattle, specifically in the water, they had a moment of... well, the Drones were no longer people. They were hardly alive, by any standards. If their hearts could still beat, their pulse would have quickened. If their lungs still swelled with air, breathing might have become heavier. If they still felt emotion on the scale that any other human did, their mouths might have spread into excited grins... But they didn't. They simply knew that the hunt had begun.

And their prey would not escape them.

Myrtle Edwards Park was quaint enough. That was Jet's first thought as he waded out of the murky waters of Puget Sound into the vibrant area. It was certainly green in that way that only Seattle managed to maintain. Green despite the gray of the day. Jet grinned at a woman jogging by; at another time, Jet might have made a pass. Today, however, instead of locking on her very lovely curves, he stared hard at the hulking form of the Rainier Building.

Was that smoke coming out of the top?

He started to move south along a walking path toward the building even as he fended off more than a few suspicious looks. He was walking through a family park in a pretty beaten up wet suit. And said wet suit left little to imaginations. It wasn't indecent but perhaps he should consider buying something a bit more presentable before presenting himself?

Chuckling, Jet shook his head as it occurred to him that whatever cash he had had on hand was now at the bottom of the Atlantic and he hadn't bothered to stop and acquire any more. He had an actual bank account with more than a little funds now, but he had no idea how to access it. He was reluctant to resort to his old 'endless summer' ways at the moment though.

Sighing, he stopped someone and asked them where the nearest Good Will or equivalent was. A snotty answer later and he was strolling toward downtown Seattle whistling as he went.

Before the trio was the door that would grant them access to the stairwell. Technologies far superior to a simple lock sealed it shut. Cimmeria was an expert lockpick, but even her skills were no match for Meta's intellect. This would be an easy hurdle to cross none the less.

Satsuki drew her blade and seemingly vanished, her form reappearing before the now blown in door. It all happened so fast that the sound of metal crunching was secondary.

 Lucy considered her options as she heard herself play out over the intercomm system at higher than normal decibel level, basically blaring.

"ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL! We are experiencing a security breach. You have four minutes to reach minimum safe distance."

 First things first, lets deactivate their Gifts.

 "Engaging nullifier fields at entrance level."
 "Monitoring the invaders progress with aerial drones"

 A low humming sounded in the hall where the trio found themselves following their brute force break in. However strangely they began to feel a tingle wash across their bodies as they passed into the building. The Nullifier fields had been activated, and now they would no longer be able to use their powers while the fields were active...except the physical manifestations, they took longer to deactivate.

"Bringing up Notepad.exe"

 Lucy began to take notes, it was the first combat test of the power defenses effectiveness.

 First Lucy decided to send in the riot gears. Two metal behemoths designed to take a beating, from a well armed norm and a Gifted one. They really looked like bulldozer chassis' with robotic parts on top. Their main purpose was to block any attempt to proceed into the building. They did this with large riot shields were set in front of the main body of the droids. Two of these bots were set side by side to block a hallway from advancement. Their plastisteel bodies made them tough hombres. Finally, they carried non-lethal rounds, designed to pummel and knock out, barrels of which were the only thing that penetrated their shields.

 Four of these soon appeared in the elevators and took their places ahead of the invader's advancement. Upon seeing the trio, they open fire...

 Behind them, a few minutes away was the Constructicons, a sarcastic nickname at the time of their creation, but also inspiration for their security functions, especially when designed to link together against particularly nasty Gifted.