Dillon ran a hand over his head, scratching at his stubble.  "If I see him, I'll be sure to ask if that's what he had in mind."  He thought of Crimson Dawn, and some of the other experiment subjects.

"Have you ever had a job, Daphne?"

As he zeroed in on their location physically, Dragón focused his senses on the occupants of the office, taking a moment to establish their numbers and specific locations from the sound of their heartbeats.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
00:03, Sun 06 Oct 2013: El Dragon rolled 4 5 successes using 12d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 ((9,2,2,5,7,6,8,6,10,6, 2,4)) Awareness, making use of Sensory Editing.  I'd just like to establish how many there are and basically how they're distributed in the room.  If you wanted to just give me the answer in a PM rather than waiting until you do your next full post, it might expedite matters.  I know you'd like to be done with this phase of the tale.

---

This message was last updated by the player at 04:40, Tue 08 Oct 2013.

"Not really, I have done some work for my church. Mostly just manual labor, I helped build a few houses. I did some door to door work registering people to vote and getting donations for the church. I was going to look at getting a job before all this happened, but I hadn't even really looked into it much."

Daphne looks at the table for a second and then chuckles a little bit before speaking"I guess with being unable to be hurt I could always look at getting back into martial arts again. I haven't done any for years, but as a kid my parents thought it would be good for me to know how to defend myself. It would be funny to see me taking a hit from some one like you and it doing nothing"
This message was last edited by the player at 04:16, Mon 07 Oct 2013.

After a final cleansing breath, Dragón crashed down through the brittle ceiling material and landed on his feet directly between the sellers and the buyers.  As he landed, a sphere of blunt force blasted outward like the shockwave of an explosion.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
"Sphere" technique - Core book pg 195 - Inflicts 12 levels of bashing damage to all within up to a 27m radius.  [He doesn't want to blow out the walls, however, so he limits it to the confines of the office].

---

This message was lightly edited by the player at 04:57, Tue 08 Oct 2013.

That was a big claim, and it elicited a reaction.  His voice wavered between astonished and skeptical.  "How far have you tested your forcefield?  Just trains and bullets and falls?"

Daphne thought for a second before answering. "It has mostly been falls, crashes and guns. I have run into a couple burning building and they didn't do anything. Taking a punch from you would probably hurt, but I haven't actually been hit by another nova. Now that I think of it, it is a little scary and exciting to think about. I haven't actually felt pain in so long it might be neat to push myself to see how much I can take." As she finished talking the excitement in her voice is easy to hear.

"You sound pretty desperate for senation."  That was a familiar feeling.  "Life inside a shell, that'll do it to you."

Cassia reached over to the empty driver's seat, giving the steering wheel a big hug and a whispered "Thank you" before getting out of the car with this new stranger.  "Come visit me..." she said to the car-carriage, before turning to Angelo.  She took his hand, and chose to trust him because those were her only options.  Her gaze was wary though, as she took in his appearance and his home.  The burn scars only gave her a moment's pause, but his fame was more of an issue.  "You're with Team Tomorrow too.  Why are you helping me, instead of turning me in?"

Chance Meetings
After killing his captive, Johnny Afterburner, real American hero, wove a convincing story for the police before filling out a ream of papers for his Utopia handlers.  No one questioned his word, and his equipment told the story he wanted it to tell.  His secrets were his to keep, and to unknowingly share with the Stranger that watched the scene play out.

-

At Devarga's, Cassia adjusted quickly to whatever living arrangements were provided.  She was a highly intelligent girl, well behaved, and extremely afraid that she would have to run again.  For the time being though, no one seemed to know that Angelo had anyone other than a young niece staying with him.

Debts Paid
Life was never private for celebrities.  A nearby group commented amongst themselves about the young nova that wanted to be hit by the world's second strongest man, joking and laughing, betting on whether he would do it and what the outcome would be.  Still, it was better than most of the other options for leisurely socializing, it had a view, and the table probably didn't realize how good Comstock and Gale's hearing were.

Strained Relationships
Though he strained not to show it, there was a cold that crept into his voice when he replied.  "Yes.  I always wear my mask."  What was that about?  Trauma, some sort of dissociation between his nova persona and his old self, hidden scars... The options were intriguing, but the dance was at an end.  With a gracious bow, Matador disengaged from the beautiful new terat.  "We should meet again, you and I.  Somewhere with better ambiance."  A nearby member of the crowd scoffed at the insult to the fine establishment they were in, which earned him a casual passing shove from Matador.  Thinking better of starting a fight, the tall, wiry nova turned toward the loud crash of breaking glass instead.

A large glass globe, roughly the size of a human head, shattered as it landed on the bar, missing Solitaire by only inches.  She heard it coming of course, even with the cacophony of sound permeating the place, and new from the way the sounds bounced off if that its trajectory was off.  The culprits were just as easy for her to find, especially since one of them glowed slightly against the ceiling far above.

Thieves in the Night
Angelo slammed through the ceiling, broke the table directly beneath him, and left an indentation in the floor where he landed.  The blast of his forcefield slammed everyone in the room against the walls, and two men unlucky enough to be standing close to him when he landed were actually thrown through the weak south wall of the office.  In the second before the criminals returned to their feet, Angelo saw that there were two briefcases amidst the remains of the table, the only strong candidates for the item he was sent to retrieve.

Baroness let her eyebrow raise at the mystery of Matador's mask, but she kept her smile. She was in no place herself to find any nova's quirks odd. She pulled back as the dance ended she maintained her grin during Matador's bow. "Sounds delightful," she then pulled a card, with only a cell phone number printed with raised, pitch black lettering, from a small pocket of her dress. She stained the back of it with her lipstick and slid it down into Matador's hand before he left, "I can be hard to find at times---But I do appreciate a good chase," she left the man with a wink before turning to walk back to Solitaire and Phantasm.

Her eyes widened and body stiffened as the glass globe narrowly missed Solitaire. She went rushing up beside the woman and stared up to the rafters where her homunculi cackled. She cut the beast short with a shout, "Get down--Now!" The creature stopped immediately and came tumbling down onto the bar top. There was no grace in its fall, it simply smacked, face first, onto the counter. Baroness snatched out, grabbing her wayward lump of flesh and squeezed its neck. It was supposed to be an extension of her body--and she did not tolerate rebellion. She looked to Solitaire, hoping that a calm would offset the dangerous faux pas, "I apologize deeply. I shouldn't have been so distracted."

She held out the misshapen homunculus as it now thrashed and garbled in her grip around its neck, "Its punishment is yours to choose," she said as if she were presenting a wayward chicken for slaughter. She didn't mention that if Solitaire were to kill the little beast that it would indeed injure her--but she wasn't above punishment, especially when it came from her carelessness.

"I was with Team Tomorrow," Dragón said as they entered the elevator and rode up, "...sort of...at least until about seven or eight months ago."  He didn't talk down to the girl.  One, it wasn't really in his nature, and two, she was a nova.  There were fair odds she was smarter than he was.  "I'm helping you because I was told you needed help...and that's what I do.

"My buddy, Johnny, said said some people might come for you, to try to take you away," he continued as they stepped into the roomy, if empty, apartment.  Then he knelt down beside her and looked into her eyes.  "I can't say I'm the most powerful nova on the planet, but what I am, and what I've always been, is a warrior.  And as long as I'm still breathing, nobody is going to take you anywhere you don't want to go."

He stood up.  "Okay, serious moment over," he said with a crooked grin, "you can take my room for tonight.  There's a shower in there with enough hot water to keep you all pruney until judgement day, but I'd recommend a little rack time...er...sleep.  We've got stuff to do tomorrow if you're going to be here a while.  You need clothes and stuff, you might want something more to eat than 'bachelor chow' and," he swept his eyes around the bare rooms, "we're probably going to want more furniture than just a bed and a foot locker."

As promised, the next day was a bit of a whirlwind as he drove Cassia around getting what they needed.  In addition to the clothes and furniture, he added a television, a game system, and a computer, because he had little doubt that a daily routine of meditation and training would be fatally boring to a ten-year-old...even a nova one.  In the name of security, he took her to smaller, more specialized, stores to minimize the amount of time they spent in any one place.  His attitude stayed light and friendly, but more than half of his attention was on their surroundings.  Potential risks were quickly and effectively evaluated.  He didn't particularly expect trouble, but he had enough field experience to know that the trouble you don't expect is the trouble you're likely to get.

When they were finished, he helped her get her room set up the way she wanted it and did a basic arrangement of the living room and dining room (such as it was) furniture.  He made no pretensions of domesticity beyond being able to keep the place clean.

"If you have any questions," he said as he finished connecting up the electronics, "or if you need or want anything, don't hesitate to ask.  We might as well get to know each other since there's no telling how long you're going to need, or want, to live here."

Daphne didn't respond to the people talking around her. Whether this was because of her diminished hearing or lack of caring was hard to tell.

Daphne gave a bit of a shrug "I don't know how desperate I really am. I won't go as far as to day I'm not, but either way I figure that feeling will only get worse from here."

"Well ... there's just no helping it then."  Dillon reached into a coat pocket and withdrew a smartphone.  "That's for you.  It's a calling card.  It has my number in it.  When you have the time, give me a call and we'll start training you."  He sipped his water.  "If you try to learn alongside a regular class or instructor, you could hurt them.  And you'll never understand your strength or the limits of that forcefield.  I have a group ... let's just say that my primary concern is to ensure people like you can have a normal life.  If you want one."

Gale listened, a slightly amused expression on her face.  Her chin was propped on the back of her hand, a drink in the other.  She gestured with it toward Daphne.  "You know, if you are invulnerable, you'd probably end up on the moon.  That would be something."

To Comstock's last comment, she added, "If it's possible to have one."  Then she adjusted her position slightly, setting the glass down.  "If you want to talk to him about the practical stuff, I'm willing to talk to you about other stuff.  'Stock's a great guy, but he doesn't have issues like some of us.  No offense," she added with a glance at the big guy.

Operator sliced through the veil of dis-information to perceive the scene in the small office clearly, as El Dragon crashed through the roof.

Goons, and lots of them. Chances of a super tough nova were slight, given that all of them fell to the ground. One or more might be a nova, but weren't ready.

Jonas spotted the two brief cases. Classic, cliche, almost too obvious.

There were going to be a few seconds before the gunfire started, and Jonas honestly didn't feel up to trying to get El Dragon out of the scene before things overtook him, if they were beyond him.

Jonas focused, as he had before with the fool with the machete. This was bigger than what he had done before in many ways, but only had to last a moment.

Operator attempted to grab hold of the information contained in basically everything in the room. The collective unconsciousness provided a contextual overlay for everyone in the room for what things were and what they meant. Jonas carefully filtered out the perceptions of El Dragon in this morass, and focused on everyone else present, and everything else present. He cautiously opened a telepathic link to El Dragon, and prepared to feed him...everything. Operator pushed himself beyond his previous performance, devoting his whole being in this moment to blanking out the room of information and feeding it all to El Dragon.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
10:49, Sat 12 Oct 2013: Operator rolled 4 successes using 7d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 ((7,3,9,7,10,6,3)). 7 sux including 1 will spent, 2 for the megadie, and 2 for the 10 (Rational).

---

The moment grew into further confusion. Operator trusted his hands to continue to grip the girders in the ceiling as he watched the events unfold below. He felt the information flow out of everything in the room, through him, and back to El Dragon, but NOT to the others in the room. The data was electric in his body. Like a selective conduit, Operator had placed himself between the environment, it's context, and everyone else in the room, and channeled that information only back to El Dragon.

If this was successful, El Dragon would find himself in the same sea of bullshit as everyone else in the room, surrounded by confusion and attempting to interact with a blank room. No structure, object, color, shape, or sound would have any meaning. But for him, unlike the goons in the room, Operator was providing that information. As though someone was in his ear (in his mind in this case) telling him what everything was, in it's totality, including the context and cues provided by the goons, everything would seem to have signs on it explaining these things. El Dragon would not inherently recognize what things were, what anything was, but would be able follow the signs Operator was feeding him to understand what everyone in the room understood things to be. The anticipation that the briefcases contained what was expected, the anxiety from the blast El Dragon had arrived with, the knowledge of what was really inside the brief cases, in the context of what was expected to be there, all this and more. All things considered, Operator was not jealous of the experience he was inflicting upon El Dragon. Hopefully he would be able to maintain this "info-mud" long enough for El Dragon to grab the package and bail.

In the midst of making sure there were no more active threats in the room, Dragón was hit with a tsunami of information.  He staggered back a half step with the momentary overload before his mind's ability to rapidly process and filter information caught up.  Eleven baselines and minor novas more or less down for the count, one briefcase full of money, the other with the "goods."  Dude, he thought, movie cliche much?

He grabbed both cases and rocketed at full speed straight up and out of the building, moving out of small-arms range too fast for anyone to draw a bead on him.  "Dragón to team, I have what we came for.  Suzukaze, proceed to exfil, Operator, standby for dust-off."

He waited as Operator struggled wearily to his feet, then swooped down and caught him under the arms, lifting him into Hong Kong's night sky toward the rendezvous with their 'porter.

Operator braced himself as the El Dragon Express hurtled towards him. Now more confused than before, more of his mind occupied than before, he still managed to squeeze the question out, telepathically, to El Dragon.

Did you get the package, or did you get two briefcases?

Chance Meetings
Cassia spent the next month getting to know Angelo, testing the sincerity of his hospitality and his promise to keep her safe.  After the first month she warmed up to the scarred veteran, apparently deciding she could trust him, and started acting like the young (albeit hyper-intelligent) girl she was rather than a hunted fugitive.  She pointedly ignored the fact that she would eventually have to come to a more permanent resolution to her predicament, happy for the moment to be safe and cared for.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
end scene.  Cassia will be with Angelo until otherwise noted.

---

Strained Relationships
Baroness's apologies fell on deaf ears.  For a moment it seemed the prestigious terat had chosen to ignore Baroness, but it soon was clear that Solitaire seemed to be listening to something only she could hear.  With a nod toward Baroness and Phantasm, Solitaire left without even commenting on the minor incident.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Phantasm and Baroness can feel free to talk, but Sol is out right now (school stuff last I heard) so we'll keep things moving along.

---

Thieves in the Night
Operator was more than just a telepath; not only did he read the minds of those around him, he read the actual meaning behind thought, behind a given arrangement of facts.  The only limit on his perception was his own comprehension.

Between blanking out the scene, filtering information to Dragon, and attempting to make sense of what was actually happening, it took a bit of time for the full ramifications of the scene below to come into focus, both for Operator and his linked partner, Dragon.

The truth dawned on them at the same time, a collection of various bits of disparate information coming into focus, forming a hazy picture.  The two criminal groups in the warehouse below were there to trade briefcases, fully believed they were making a meaningful exchange, but the truth was that the exchange itself was the goal.  Another hand was moving pieces, and it wanted these two groups to be in contact... no, not just the two groups, but a third as well.  Whoever was behind the exchange wanted it interrupted, wanted to turn the two groups against a third.  Someone knew about Vigilance, and was already trying to sabotage them.  Operator's information screen handily blocked the play of the invisible manipulator, but the entire held ominous tidings for the future.

As they flew toward their rendezvous, carrying money and valuable-but-irrelevant tech schematics, Operator and Dragon shared a moment of understanding: this was the first change in the winds, the first warning of a storm on the horizon.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
end scene.

---

This message was last edited by the GM at 04:04, Tue 15 Oct 2013.

Phantasm smiled as Sol almost took a globe to the head.  Always fun to play, and so little opportunity these days.  Her smile slipped a bit as she watched the woman leave though, it wasn't like her.  Nothing to do about it though, at least not right now.  She would talk to Sol later, when circumstances were more conducive to that sort of a conversation.  For now, Phantasm contented herself to watch Baroness.  "Sorry 'bout that.  My fault really, sometimes they have a life of their own, and apparently they're a bad influence."

Daphne takes the smartphone from Dillon with a smile. "Thanks, both of you. I think Laura has a couple concerts coming up soon that she has invited me to join her for. After that it would be great to do some training with you. I'll make sure to call you both and let you know. You two have been really good to me today. I really appreciate you listening to me be all melodramatic at times about this being a nova."

He finished off his water.  "My pleasure, Daphne.  I'll be in touch."  He wondered if she had any idea what kind of world she was stepping into.  He only hoped his warnings hadn't fallen on deaf ears.  "I'll catch up with you two later.  There's still a few things I need to do around town, and the daylight's wasting."  He left a sizable tip on the table, in gratitude to the staff for letting the three of them hide there for awhile.  He only hoped that the staff weren't going to gossip too much.

---

Several days later, a package arrived at Serenade's house.  Inside was a large canister, and a note.

Daphne,

You're in for a rough road ahead.  You'll need to look your best.  Right now, you probably feel like you're invulnerable.  We'll find out how far that goes later.  For now, please take this.  This eufiber colony and I have never quite gotten along.  I've never had a lot of talent working with the stuff, but it's been a loyal suit of armor for me for a few years now.  It's a top of the line, T2M experimental colony, the sort you cannot buy in stores.  And now it's yours.

It's seen a lot of battles, and it's kept me from falling apart at the seams.  You'll need it.  Best of all, it can double for just about any sort of clothing you like, and once you charge it up it should slip past your force field so you can finally feel human again.  Serenade's supposedly a pro with eufiber; ask her if you have trouble figuring out how it works.

Dillon

Baroness laughed and shook her head, her homunculus still clutched, straining and clawing at her hand, "Oh--No I do understand. I really should have kept a better eye on them really. My little ones can be just as feisty and I'm just thankful she wasn't hurt. Not that I get the sense a light fixture or twenty would dent a woman like her." She smiled and lowered herself into her seat. She set her homunculus down on her lap and snapped her fingers, it scurrying off to find her purse and bring it back, clutching it and waiting below her seat with a rather shamed look on its face.

She flicked back her hair and tilted her head, "How do you manage it? Your image, I mean," she gestured out to the crowd, "I would think that such a place would cause a stir with the baselines, but perhaps I've lost touch with pop culture. It really is quite the trick--To be the...hmm--What would I say? Likeable rebel?"

"No, Sol is something else altogether.  A bright light cast against the shadows."  It was true of course, but Phantasm didn't bother explaining her meaning.  It never hurt to sound mysterious and put the onus of understanding on someone else's shoulders.  Well, usually didn't hurt anyway.

Looking the other woman in the eyes, Phantasm smiled, a shared secret between them.  "Oh, I'm pretty sure you get it.  People aren't all that hard to play, if you do it right.  Were the right clothes, show up at the right places, become something they can project their own desires on.  Showing up in a place like this wasn't really part of the plan, but it's just another Rorschach blot for them to stare at if they find out."

A sip of her free drink. "Before long I'll probably be seeing you all over.  Baroness: the new hotness.  Hey, have you ever tried your hand at performance arts, I've got a record label I'm building...
This message was last edited by the player at 12:52, Tue 22 Oct 2013.

Baroness met Phantasm's gaze with a knowing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, "Yes, I suppose I understand the fundamentals, but it seems to me we're playing entirely different instruments--as it were. I'm impressed with how you've managed to keep the opinion in your favor for so long is all. So many people and so fickle. I'm not sure I'd be so good at generating such good will."

She laughed, the sort of laugh as if they had been old friends, at the other woman's off-handed flattery, "Oh dear no. I'm sure that many adjectives would be used but I doubt they'd all be quite so kind. Besides, I do try to stay out of the spotlight--I think a little mystery can be refreshing." she shook her head at the question of performance, her hair shifting only to somehow find its perfect place again, "No, no. I'm much better one-on-one. Though, I'd still be intrigued with learning more about the business. I'm sure that an up and coming label would do well with talent and what an opportunity to see who didn't even know they were looking for a new contract," finished with a chuckle that shifted between playful and devious.

Phantasm grinned and nodded at the complements.  "Well, thanks for that, but its not really too hard.  Safest place is being right out in the open.  Show them one hand doing something flashy and they won't pay any attention to what your other hand is doing.  It takes a lot more skill to play in the shadows, get close to people, make them see what you want them to..."  It was a complement, and an acknowledgement of Baronness's special skills and unknown agenda.  There was a meta-conversation occurring behind the casual chatter, or perhaps a little chess match in which the pieces were secrets revealed and the prize was professional pride.

"So the night is young.  Any plans?"

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
So sorry for leaving you hanging on this.  This time of year sucks, I meant to reply a few days after you posted and then.... yeah, anyway, sorry about that.

---

This message was last edited by the player at 06:58, Mon 18 Nov 2013.