The next night, at the start of the televised six o'clock news, an announcement goes out on every channel's news report: Scorch Scale and Goodwill (and Scraps) are requested to show up at Pier 107 on Saturday morning, 9 am, "to help test a new type of security system."

Any other "public-minded citizens with special powers and abilities" are also requested to attend.

The invitation includes an offer of "a generous financial reward" for full participation...

Carlos sat in his favorite leather easy chair in the small living space of his studio apartment.  He had taken to watching the six o clock news to see if any new projects would pop up. Business hadn't been so great lately and he really needed all the help he could get.

He huffed with the faint beginnings of concern before obliterating it under a rising tide of ever present optimism. He'd be fine, sure he was three months behind and couldn't keep charming his landlord for more time, sure he might have to move or end up homeless again, but it wasn't to bad, he got through it and would again.

He began to dive into the logistics of his situation when the mention of a security job tugged at his attention. With a slowing growing grin the stunt man leaned forward to pay full attention to the news. "Generous financial reward huh..well, Pier 107. I'll have to prepare" He cast a glance at his closet, where he kept his El Brujo outfit behind a false wall.

"The last time I took an invitation like that, it was a super-villain. Followed by another super-villain." Gil turned off the television. Scraps wasn't in line of sight. Sleeping, maybe? Either way, it felt slightly more stupid to be talking to nobody at all then it felt to talk to a puppy. Both were essentially just talking to himself, but he could at least pretend that Scraps knew what he was talking about... or knew how badly Gil needed the money that was being offered. "But I guess I'm gonna do it anyway."

Was it another trap? Probably. But maybe not.

...right?

Scraps buried the bone deep.
He liked to bury the bone deep.

Of course, there wasn’t so many places in the apartment to bury his toy bone ... so he’d been burying it the dirt of the big ol’ pot plant in the corridor near the front door.
He was pretty sure that the dirt didn’t like being kept bundled up in that large vase, anyway.
So he was glad to give it a chance to spread out all over the floor ... it was a bit like Gil taking him for a walk.  Get some air, you know, and see something new.

Unfortunately, his toy bone didn’t squeak like it use to.
Scraps had chewed most of the squeak out of it.

Instead of burying it in the plant pot, Scraps decided to take it to Gil.  Show Gil how squeakless it had become.
Maybe Gil would magically produce another one, the way Gil did all the time.
And then Gil would put the old, chewed one in the magic bin ... and it would, over the next few days or so, turn into some yummy scraps for Scraps to dig out.

Looking around at the fine job he’d done helping the dirt get out for some fresh air, Scraps picked up his squeaky bone, and went pottering off to find Gil.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:33, Fri 14 June 2019.

Saul was stuck. His father was struck with an illness, unable to work. The bills were starting to roll in, and the savings would only go so far.
Saul should have been able to do something, he was the only other man of the house. If he didn't have hero work, Saul might have been able to scrape in some cash, but he was hard pressed to keep his grades high as is.

He was half contemplating going into the wrestling ring when he saw the news, it glared at him in that dark room, showing him a way to save the household. All he had to do was be there at the pier.

As much as a part of him cautioned against the supposed ease of the job, another part of him wanted a "nest egg". He most certainly didn't want a hoard of valuables, no siree.

Just a tiny bit early, Goodwill (and Scraps) examine Pier 107 from the air. There's a boat tied up there, and a few men waiting around... and... a police officer, it looks like...

Maybe it's someone from the last adventure at the police station...?
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:43, Sun 16 June 2019.

"Well, hey there." Gil landed near the police officer. He looked familiar, but Gil wasn't remembering his name. And sunlight was reflecting off his name tag due to the sharp angle of the morning sun. "Lieutenant... Caswell?"

He set Scraps down, because nobody could hold an excited puppy for very long.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:40, Sun 23 June 2019.

"That's right, Lieutenant Caswell of the 28th precinct. I got called in on this because I'm the member of the force who's talked the most to you and... the others..." He looked down briefly. "Hello again, puppy..."

oh 'Hello puppy' yourself, Officer ... and that got the nice officer one very happy response, as Scraps attempted to bounce all over the upright officer.

But then, then Scraps noticed the cornucopia of scents about the place.
It was like a zoo for the snout; an entire encyclopaedia of excitement.   So many smells and SO LITTLE TIME.

Scraps raced off to investigate the first 7,830 scents all at once.

The soft groan of twisting metal preludes a faint whistle as a shape comes spiraling through the air sixty feet up. It spins and drops until a lightpost bends unnaturally, reaching out to catch an extended arm that the leather clad figure uses to arrest its movement. The post dips with the consistency of taffy before springing up, hurling the shape in another horizontal toss before righting itself as though it never happened. This occurs three more times, each swing growing lower and lower until the figure seems to soar ten feet up, angled down until it came to a dip that ended in a forward roll that ended at the police officer and Scraps.

"Am I late?" The slightly distorted voice of muscular man rumbles from behind a what looks like a repurposed motorcycle helm.