Impetus startled out of another waking nightmare, memories from his chrysalis coming together for the third night in a row.  He didn't sleep much, but when he paused to rest or remember the events of his day, the fragmented images and feelings took over.  He could still feel himself as part of her, connected to Caroline and their daughter, all of them in chrysalis at once and joined by the very fabric of the universe.  Looking around, Impetus noted that the room was as bright as day, and that he was leaking quantum like water from a sieve.  Tamping down the power, he tried once again to remember.

She had been in chrysalis too long, and they had gone to check.  Santiago and Raoul revealed her hiding place, a cave deep under the sea, but when the three of them arrived they foud nothing.  They were all concerned, but held a tentative hope that she had emerged and was exploring her new powers and form.  They put out feelers, but she was nowhere to be found.  Imp knew there was something wrong, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.  Until tonight.  The vision from tonight was different.

He could feel Caroline's distress.  She was taking longer to emerge from the quantum cocoon because of the baby, but she was never alarmed until that night.  Impetus could feel her fear as a shudder through the core of his own being.  She had sensed a familiar, trusted presence, but he shouldn't have been there, shouldn't have known where to find her.  His presence, normally a balm, grew sinister and overwhelming.  Then there were others, felt by their energy signatures but never seen, touching her, moving her, taking her away.  She struggled to emerge, instinctively trying to guard herself and her child, but she was trapped by the cocoon that also protected her.  And then the presence that comforted Impetus throughout his own transformation was just... Gone.  Only a cold emptiness remained of her, and he shuddered at the wrongness of it.  Fighting to emerge, the shield of solidified quantum began to unravel, and Impetus burst forth, confused and disoriented, from his transformation.

The memory fell into place, and left Impetus with a gnawing fear as his constant companion.  What had happened to Caroline?

---

Gravitas glanced over notes on the latest Utopia proceedings.  He wasn't a member anymore, but he still got the courtesy updates, and they paid him a hefty consulting fee to work on some of their tougher problems.  Most of the issues were either terribly simple, outside his areas of interest, or required more time than he cared to give to them.  One item caught his eye however; a string of murders, obvious nova culprit, few leads.  Several of the victim's bodies were missing, and those that remained had not decayed as they should.  The details of the case struck him as familiar, and once he looked at the notes on the victim's tissue samples, he knew.  Ben.

Quentin looked at the notes again.  They would find the connection, Ben's tissue samples were on record.  The question was, what should he do about it?  Throw them off?  Help Utopia track him down?  Find Ben and help him?  If Utopia got ahold of him, he would likely wind up in one of the holding facilities, and the rumors surrounding those places were unpleasant at best.  Ben wouldn't be able to avoid Utopia for long, either.  Quentin watched the second hand of the wall clock slowly move forward, and as it ticked out the passage of another moment, he knew that there would be precious little time to save his brother.

---

Suzukaze returned from another mission battered and tired.  She intended to just visit Shiro for a moment before turning in.  The sleeping guard was her first clue that things weren't right.  Suddenly alert and eyes full of deadly resolve, 'Kaze moved into Shiro's room.  But he was gone.  In his bed was a note, written in kanji.

Wind.  You thought you would leave us.  You were wrong.  Shiro is ours, and if you value his life, or that of your family, you will do nothing to oppose us.  And when we ask it, you will help us.  When you tell your new employers of the kidnapping, say nothing of this note, or what you love will die.

---
After another long day of publicity events and charity work, Dillon sat at his desk staring at a picture of his family.  Comstock tried to be good to them, stay close to them.  Maybe it was love, maybe it was guilt, maybe it was responsibility.  Probably it was all three.  But whatever the reason, he took care of them, made sure they were happy, gave them what he could.  Not all of them knew exactly how to deal with the transition, and things weren't exactly normal at home anymore, but everyone put on a happy smile for Dillon when he came to visit, and they mostly put his gifts to good use.  Except for his older brother.

Terrence and Dillon were close as children, with Terrence always the protective over-achiever.  Whatever Dillon could do Terrence could do better, but he was never mean about it.  When Dillon had trouble through his life, Terrence was always a stable and successful shoulder to lean on.  But after Dillon erupted, everything changed.  Suddenly Terrence was second best, constantly in his brother's shadow; then the nova boom industries started competing with traditional manufacturing, leading to Terrence's layoff.  Now, Terrence lives off of Dillon's charity, and is in a spiral of self destruction.  He doesn't even show up to family gatherings anymore; he's too ashamed.  Gambling, drinking, and fairweather friends are his only company.

When the phone rang and Dillon saw his brother's cell number show up on his caller ID, he knew it couldn't be good.  And when he answered, it wasn't.  Terrence was in a jam, at some dive bar, and needed a ride.  No, a cab wouldn't do, he needed his brother.  Terrence ended the call with another plea for help before abruptly ending the call, and left Comstock to consider his next course of action.

---

Gale had a day to herself.  She was away from base, staying at her apartment.  Taking a little time for relaxation and a chance away from the media.  She was just about to settle in to a book and some pleasant music, when she heard yelling from her door guard in the hall.  She hadn't asked for the guard, but Utopia insisted, and he really had been quite helpful at keeping the press away.  She probably should at least go check on him.

Peaking out into the hallway, she was completely surprised by what she saw.  A young man stood arguing heatedly with the guard.  He was still in his teans, wearing weathered denim, tennis shoes and a tank top, with sun bleached hair and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He smiled at Gale as their eyes met. "Hey sis, you wanna help me out here?"
This message was last updated by the GM at 21:10, Fri 30 Aug 2013.

Some things had to take priority.  On short notice and with apologies, Dillon excused himself from the social, found his coat and left.  This kind of schmoozing still didn't sit well with him anyway.

He felt his eufiber colony ripple and knew he was getting worked up.  Terrence didn't deserve half the trouble he'd found.  But the self-absorbed drunk routine had to stop.  How long before he did something he couldn't take back, something Dillon couldn't make better?  Thoughts of the good times and kept him driving.

He found the dive.  And insisting on driving an old truck made the decision to park in bad parts of town a lot easier to make.  He just didn't know what he was going to find when he went through that door.  One thing he was sure of was that he had a wallet full of cash, and hopefully that would be enough.

I should have pursued this a long time ago, Quentin thought to himself. He'd intended to, following the events in Colombia. In the days that followed the final battle, he'd been preoccupied with recovery from his injuries and then his chrysalis.

He committed the notes on the tissue samples to memory and then brought up a map on the computer he was sitting at. No matter what he did with his little brother, he needed to find him first. He plotted the locations where the bodies for each of the tissue samples had been found, and where they'd disappeared from. Then he added in data from his memory regarding the disappearance of his brother's body. He overlayed locations of cartel hideouts that Utopia found over the last two years, still suspecting that the now-busted cartels had some sort of involvement in the issue - if not with the bodies actually disappearing, then with his brother's eruption.

He stared at the map in silence for a moment, allowing his thoughts to connect and disconnect the varied data points in novel ways as he also considered the tissue sample data. He sometimes wondered if his intellect somehow tapped into some sort of wellspring of knowledge or something - the connections he was able to make and the completely new things he was able to think up defied even his own explanations most of the time. It was useful to be able to put it to work for his own ends, but he was often left with the question 'Where did that come from?'.

Dozens of possibilities flashed through his mind. Each was rapidly analyzed, dissected, and ultimately rejected. There had to be an answer out there somewhere, some lead that would lead him to his missing brother. He just had to find it.

Suzukaze crumples the note in her hand. She turns and walks from the building pulling out her cell once outside. She dials the number and puts the phone to her ear. Her voice is like ice when she speaks.

"Paul. I swear to god that if you aren't at the Archon in 10 minutes I'll hunt your ass down the hard way. Your going to bring me back for a little meeting."

She hangs up and putting the phone away she races off. Once she arrives and gets inside she sits at a table in a corner of the room. She closes her eyes as she waits.

Imp left his bedroom, padding silently through the darkness of his house, well, former darkness, the glow emanating from him bathed the place in a warm white-gold light.  On his way through the kitchen a bottle of beer emerged from the fridge, opened itself and nestled into his hand.  He took a pull, savoring the complexity of the flavor as he walked out into the compound.  It was 2am, most of the lights were out, and all the baselines were asleep, or at least inside.  He saw light coming from the windows of some of his fellow novas, many had moved past the need for sleep, as he himself had.  Still, they weren't the ones he wanted to talk about this with.  he needed somebody that could relate to his own experiences, who could understand what he was going through.  He couldn't think of any single person, instead he would need to talk to two different people, one about the visions, one about the reality.  He lifted off and headed for Santa Fe.  Jeremiah had told him thaat he'd be staying there for a few weeks, and if there was anybody who could understand the near mystical nature of Chrysalis visions, Scripture could.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:10, Mon 25 Apr 2011.

He sailed over the desert, a luminous self directed comet.  The land below was quiet, dark, and still, really quite beautiful under the light of the moon.  His path took him across the Arizona border and he noticed a pickup truck stopped beside the highway, emergency flashers on.  Landing near the vehicle, but not so close as to cause alarm, he hailed the vehicle.  "Hello, do you need some help?"  a man emerged from under the hood, and a woman emerged from the cab, they didn't respond initially, instead stared at the glowing man who had seemingly materialized out of thin air, "Um, uh, we, uh..."
"Where are you headed? I can take you and your vehicle there, or to the nearest garage, if you'd like, they won't be open though."
"Weumwe'regoingtoSantaFe, I'mstartingschoolthereattheArtandDesignschool... UmI'm KrisnicetomeetyouMrImpetusSir!" It came out in a breathless rush.  "Nice to meet you Kris, and.." "Dan", "Dan. It just so happens that I'm heading to Santa Fe myself, why don't you two get in the truck and I'll take you straight there?"
Once they were inside Imp lifted the truck telekinetically and moved underneath it.  He then took off into the sky, gently so as not to alarm/injure the young people.  A short while later he set them down gently at a garage near the university, treated them to a very early morning breakfast at a 24h diner, then headed just outside of town to meet Scripture.  The man was in a comfortable looking adobe house, perched on the rim of one of the sandstone canyons that the region had in such profusion.  the door opened before Imp could knock.

Sis?  Gale's brow furrowed.  Nobody just called her that, and she was about to go back inside her apartment and let the guard handle it.  Then, a flash of recognition.  Something about him seemed familiar.  The facial structure, the hair, those eyes...those green eyes that matched her own.  "Jimmy?"  A question.  She wasn't sure.  She hadn't seen him in 5 years.

Stepping out of the safety of the doorway, she approached, looking the young man up and down. Her expression was incredulous.  She didn't believe it.  "Jimmy?" she repeated.  "Is that really you?"

Scripture stood in the doorway, illuminated by the fireplace blazing in the small living room and his own inner light.  He greeted Impetus with beatific smile, and a concerned gaze.  "My friend, you seem burdened.  Come inside, sit by the fire.  Tell me what troubles you."

---

Gravitas had precious little data to work with, but the pattern of the murders was at least clear.  Ben was somehow connected, and whoever was doing the killing was making a path down the east coast.  The trail wasn't all that obvious to one without a preternaturally keen insight, but to Quentin the path of the killer was painfully obvious, as was the killers next stop: New York City.  The murders were generally in low income, high crime areas.  Street folk mostly, and nearly all of them with a long criminal record.  Quentin made an impossibly complex predictive model to forecast the likely timing an location of the killers next attack.  If the model held true, then Quentin had between 17 and 23 hours before the next killing.

---

Paul walked into the Archon.  Though the crowd was light at this time of day, and the music merely a dull roar, he still had a bit of difficulty squeezing through the press of bodies to one of the side rooms.  When he finally found Suzukaze, he sat down without greeting, turning a chair around and stradling it.  Arm leaning on the chair back, he gazed at 'Kaze with one eyebrow raised questioningly.  "You called?"

---

By the time Dillon arrived, it was after closing time.  His brother sat at the bar drinking slowly, with a man to either side encouraging him to drink a little more.  "Come on, its on us.  Don't look so sad man, it's all gonna be alright long as you come through for us.  You are gonna come through, right?"  The look of predatory joy on the men's faces paired with the look of fear and confusion in Terrence's eyes gave Dillon the distinct impression of two cats playing with a mouse.

Three more men sat at a table near the door.  After Dillon walked in, an older balding man spoke.  "Hey now, looks like Terry came through for us after all."  Standing, the man spread his arms in greating toward Dillon.  "Alright then.  Mr. Amargosa, I'm so sorry to drag you out of bed, or whatever it is you do at this time of night, just to come all the way out here to our little hole in the wall.  But you see, your brother has certain obligations that he hasn't been meeting.  We hoped that maybe you might be able to help him out, take care of things."

---

"Really really.  It's me.  I know I look dif- ow, hey, hands off!  She knows me you jerk!  Yeah, like I was saying, it's been a while, I've grown up since you saw me.  I'm kinda on the outs with dad right now, and he said I could 'just go live with Gale' if I didn't want to live by his rules... So I took him up on the offer."  A closer look told Gale that her brother looked tired and worn out.  And he smelled like he'd been traveling for a few days without much of a break.

Suzukaze stares at Paul with death in her eyes.

"Paul your my best friend and as my friend I'm going to ask you not to fuck with me." She throws the note across the table at him. "I know you guys have Shiro. And if you honestly don't then I need to find who does. Either way I need to meet with the assassins and the director. You're going to bring me there now."

Dillon's teeth ground together.  He'd just phoned some philanthropists to cancel so he could be hustled by his brother's loan sharks.  He hadn't been looking forward to a late night social, but this wasn't what was advertised either.  "Alright guys.  I think I can see the writing on this one."  His voice picked up a tinny reverb, and he closed his eyes to calm it.  "You alright over there?"  He nodded to his brother, trying to judge if he'd been bruised, beaten or otherwise mishandled.  Was this disappointment he was feeling?  Anger?  The pre-battle shot of adrenaline that sets you on edge?

Turning back to the other two, he sighed and slipped his hands into his pockets.  "So ... you the owners?  What're you in for on this one?  Thousand bucks?  Two?"

"It's ok, Bob," she said to the security guard.  "He's telling the truth."  The winged woman was just as surprised.  After all, she had never expected her brother to show up on her doorstep.  And how was poor Bob the guard supposed to know that she even had a brother?

His reason for being here stung a bit though. Did their father see her as the alternative to living at home with the family?  Did he dislike her that much?  She covered it up though, and put an arm around his shoulder.  "Come on in, then.  You can wash up, and I have a spare bedroom you can use.  You hungry?"

Impetus smiled and embraced his friend warmly, "It's been too long Jeremiah, too long by far." he entered the room and took a seat in a comfortable chair by the fire. His host sat down and waited patiently for Impetus to start talking, he did so with no segue, no lead in, proof that he was deeply shaken. "Jeremiah, you've gone under, and know many people who have. Have you heard anything about someone being in contact with another nova who is in Chrysalis?" he frowned, "I could communicate with Car when I was in the cocoon, even as far away as Mars I could talk to her, or at least I have fragmentary visions of having done so.  I felt her get taken, saw her get grabbed and probed and cut and experimented on. She knew she didn't have enough energy to keep both herself and our baby alive, she chose to die and let our unborn daughter live. These memories and images seem so real, so vibrant, but so incredibly far away. Could they be real? Could I have seen Car die and felt our baby being born?" he frowned, pensive, waiting for his friend to respond.

Suzukaze looked at Paul as he read the note, and found surprise and confusion in his eyes.  "Look, I don't know what's going on here, but we didn't do this.  At least I'm pretty sure we didn't.  But I can't take you to the others.  You still aren't anyone's favorite person, and this isn't the time to press your luck.  But Shiro is my friend, and I can at least help you find him.  What can I do to help?"

The assassins weren't known for their honesty or forthrightness, but she'd known Paul for years and could read him pretty well.  He was probably telling the truth.

---

The talkative little man smiled disarmingly.  "Like I said, I'm really sorry to drag you out.  And to tell you that this is a little beyond money anymore.  You see, your brother defaulted on a pretty serious loan, and then he decided to beat the hell out of one of my good friends who came to talk to him about his debt.  There's some payback in order my friend, but I figured that we ought to give his family a chance to come through, maybe solve things politely.  You do a few favors for us, your brother walks out on his debt, and no one ever has to know that you spend your nights in shady places like this one."  With that last bit, he points to a cheap security camera recording the scene.  Dillan's enhanced senses let him know that rather than being connected to an on-sight computer, the camera is transmitting data to another location.

Dillan wasn't a manipulative genious, but he knew that if word got out that his brother was in trouble with criminals, or worse that Comstock spent his time associating with those same criminals, it would be disastrous for his charity work and advertising deals.

---

Bob turned grudgingly, and went back to his post. "If you need anything, remember I'm just outside ma'am."  Bob took his job seriously, and fingered his cross as he resumed his post.  He seemed to view Gale with a cross between religious reverence and fatherly concern.

Her brother however seemed to view her with a bit less trust as he hurriedly moved inside the room.  It was clear he wasn't sure what to expect, and was pretty off balance.  Seeing his older sister in person, wings and all, further discombobulated him.  But when she asked if he was hungry he nodded enthusiastically.  "Yeah, starving.  You know how dad is, I said I was leaving and he called my bet.  Told me to get out then and there.  I probably should have backed down, but I just walked out.  Had enough money to get here, and that was it.  I hitched my way the last bit of the way here, and I didn't really eat much on the way."

---

Scripture's eyes filled with unshed tears as he listened to Impetus.  "I had no idea.  I had hoped for the best, that perhaps she had emerged from her chrysalis and left to explore on her own.  I still hope that, but your words make it difficult."  He paused, staring thoughtfully at a prism as it refracted the ambient light in the room.  "I have heard of people having visions while in chrysalis.  Some proved prophetic, or showed current events thousands of miles away.  Others were merely nightmares, artifacts of a tormented subconscious, or futures that never came to be. I truly hope that your visions were of the later set."

He stared once more, pensive.  "We must find what happened to her Impetus, and we must do so soon. I had thought it best to wait and let time reveal what happened, but I realize now that I was wrong.  I would beg that you forgive my mistake, and allow me to accompany you on your quest to find the truth."

Trapped?!  The sting was incredible.  It slipped under his skin, pricked his very heart.  "Favors, huh."  The reverberating edge had returned to his voice.  He'd come in his truck, but that could be scrapped.  Had anyone seen him?  He'd cancelled a late event would that mean someone would look into where he was?  Who was caching the images?  What if it was someone targeting him through his brother, someone with the technical knowhow to make this a full-blown fiasco?  What if they already had his brother on tons of film?

"What kind of favors?"  The men saw a distracted nova, one hand braced on the counter.  Comstock's senses swam out.  He sought out radio waves, looked for wires.  Where did the security camera link up to?  It looked cheap, if the resolution was terrible even the leaked footage could be considered fake.  Maybe.  "I'm having a hard time imagining ... my brother beat up anyone right now."  Wires were a pain, very tiny, hard to feel the metal through the insulation.  Harder still when he couldn't put a hand on them.  He'd done this in Colombia: reaching out, pushing, feeling metal over a distance.  He'd just do it again, right?

Kill these men?  He didn't even know who they were.  This wasn't their first time at the rodeo, but Comstock didn't kill if he could avoid it.  And what would the city come to if the vigilantes started killing?  The wire went through the wall and then ... where?  A room?  Of course a room, a room where?

He locked eyes on Terrence again.  What then?  Wag a finger at him?  Cut him off?  He could just walk out right now with his brother, call up Steve Debow or Mary Castellan and have a friendly Utopia Lawyer put together a case with the DA.  Prosecute and bring these bastards down, set some legal precedent for extorting a nova this way.  Tell the whole truth.  He hated sneaking.  He'd only make his case worse if he settled things with force and powers.  What if someone found out down the road.

The little guy was saying something.  He imagined the man beneath his foot, the juicy squish of the little toad's organs oozing out in all directions.  He wished for a minute he was Solitaire or P and had minutes to think while this idiot's chin wagged.  He wished for a minute he had no principles.  He ran a hand over his head, through his hair, and wished he could taste whiskey again.  He'd sworn it off, but still wanted a taste.  Maybe that was Terry's problem.

Fuck, the little man was still talking.  "I'm sorry, you're going to have to say that again.  Killer headache.  What the hell do you want?"

Crash through the walls and destroy these men?  Or put it to the courts?  Hard choices.

Gale nodded as if she understood.  Honestly, though, it sounded as if her father had become more a tight-ass since she left.  Possible causes?  Who could guess.  She went to the fridge and started pulling things out to make something.  Something filling, and fast.  She had a couple of steaks that she had been marinating, hoping to maybe lure Phantasm or Flare over for dinner.  It would be an easy thing to quickly broil them in the oven.

Once the food was in the oven, she busied herself about the kitchen.  Her place felt a little opulent now, compared to their house back home.  It probably cost more, even though it wasn't as big, and it was in a high-rise in the middle of Las Vegas.  And what could she say to him?  She had to say something.  "So, um, how's Mom?"  Mom had always been nice.  That had to be a safe topic.

Suzukaze looks at Paul not liking his answer. "Look Paul here's the deal. Either I go back to the assassins. I'm not talking for a meeting. I'm talking about getting back in, but I want to be team leader. I know I'd have you and Earth supporting me. Plus I have replacements in mind for both Shiro and Fire. If you don't like that then take the other option. You either leave the assassins or do some work on the side. Your a better person than I am and I was able to leave them. I need help Paul, and I need people I can trust with me. Please work with me here."

"Thank you, my friend." Imp smiled warmly, "I feel better already.  I hope that you're right, that I'm just experiencing visions brought on by distortions in my quantum matrix." His brow furrowed again and the words came tumbling out, "Speaking of, in times of quiet, or times of stress, I sometimes hear her talking to me.  Telling me things I didn't know, or wasn't consciously aware of.  Am I going insane?  We've seen friends and peers who are losing touch with reality, there's a program in Utopia dedicated to rehabilitating insane novas.  Is this my doom?  Our fate?  Mal is older than the rest of us, but he seems relatively well balanced, so clearly some of us can escape it.  Is this what Mathematician warns us about? Of us going crazy and having to be put down?  I swear it's her in my head, but I know enough about abnormal psychology to know that the voices seem very real to the afflicted." This was something Imp had been worried about since just after he'd woken up.  Whispers inside his head in her voice, filled with insight and humour like only she could deliver.  What was he becoming, or what had she become?

Needing only a few hours in the way of prep work, Quentin worked on other projects for a while before heading off to New York City. He arrived several hours before his model predicted the next attack. It would be best to patrol the city first. He could update his model based on the flows of vehicular and pedestrian traffic, any recent construction projects, and the current weather - as well as any other relevant variables. On foot and by air, he narrowed down the range of his predictions as he checked streets and alleys, abandoned or nearly abandoned buildings, warehouses, and anywhere else that seemed likely.

Then there was only one thing to do. He waited.

The little man doing all the talking nervously took a step back, belatedly realizing that antagonizing a man who could litteraly move mountains might not have been the best of ideas.  To his credit however, his voice was even when he spoke.  "Nothing serious, I mean we're just tryin' ta make an honest living here.  But there are jams that it'd be helpful to have someone like you around for.  Maybe an a good word to the right people, maybe when people get the idea that we're doin' something wrong, you let 'em know we're ustanding guys.  Or maybe you help with novas givin' us trouble.  We had a couple o' nutjobs tear up a rental property the other day, and then there's always some nova that's not above taking a loan, but then thinks they're too high and mighty to bother with payin' when it comes time.  You know, things like that."

At the bar, Terrence leaned forward and placed his head in his hands.  Dillon knew that look, he'd seen it in the mirror more than once.  Frustration, anger, fear and shame were at war for dominance, but it looked like shame was winning at the moment.

---

Jimmy looked confused for a moment, then had a look of dawning comprehension.  "Oh, yeah, you wouldn't know.  Mom moved out a couple months ago, went to stay with Grandma until Dad 'got his shit together.'  It was almost as weird hearing her swear as it was seeing her pack the suitcase."  He thought a moment before continuing.  "I guess I should update you.  Dad got layed off when the nova boom went into full swing, and he got real down.  Looked for jobs, but they were all lower paying, or jobs where he'd be taking orders instead of giving them.  So anyway, I guess his pride wouldn't let him go and do anything but the occassional job his friends threw his way, and he spent most of the day watching TV on the couch.  Money was tight, but I think they had money in savings so it wasn't that bad, especially after Mom picked up a job at the donut shop in the mornings. He was depressed, we both saw it, but there wasn't much we could do.  Then he started being... Well, just a jerk.  Miserable to be around, always on everyone's case, treating Mom bad, that sort of thing.  Mom finally had enough, and left.  She said I could go with her, but I wanted to stay with my friends and stuff.  So I stayed until the latest blowup, and here I am."  He gave Gale a large grin as he finished, then looked at the oven.  "So uh, how long do those usually have to cook?"

---

The look of surprise on Paul's face would have been comical under other circumstances.  He was at a loss for words as he stared at his former teammate.  "Suzukaze.  Suzuka.  I want to help you, I really do.  But what you're talking about is crazy!  I can't just leave, I'd be hunted.  Like you, but without big brother Utopia to watch my back and keep the wolves at bay.  And you would be hard pressed to take over the team with the new members Fire found for us.  And you've never been-"  He breaks off for a moment, seeming worried.  "I apologize for any offence, but you have never been that stable Suzuka, and with all that you've been through I'm not sure if even Earth would support you.  You would be welcome back on the team, at least by the two of us, but not in a leadership role."

Paul grimaced a bit as he explains things, fearing Suzukaze's reaction.  When immediate response wasn't forthcoming, his brow furrowed in contemplation before he continued.  "Perhaps there is another way.  If you would be willing to come back, I might be able to take leadership myself, with your support.  Earth suggested it long ago, but I was never willing.  But if it would bring you back and end our current-"  He breaks off again, a look of distaste showing clearly on his face.  "Our current working conditions, then I would be willing to do so.  And then we could find Shiro.  Who did you have in mind to replace him and fire by the way?  All of this is in part contingent upon that."

---

Scripture was keenly interested in Impetus' words despite his readily apparent grief over Caroline.  "Impetus, all I can tell you is that we are living in a time of Marvels, and you are one of them.  You could be experiencing mental distortions, and if this is the case I am certain you will move beyond them; you have already felt the transformative touch of chrysalis once.  But it is also possible that what you are experiencing is far grander.  Quantum energy is a unifying force, it underlies and connects the universe.  You may be touching the divine, or your spirit may be in contact with Caroline.  There is no way to answer your question with any certainty, but I feel this the far more likely option.  Novas are miracles my friend.  Despite the doubt of even the other terats, this is truth.  And I believe your experiences are further proof of this."  A look of rapturous, crazed intensity that was the province of the fervently faithful and of the mad accompanied Scriptures words as he continued.  "This revelation makes it all the more important that we find your Caroline.  What is our next step on the path?  Did you have further plans in motion?"

---

Gravitas sat down on a park bench as nearby pigeon confusedly attempted to reach escape velocity and break his orbit.  Were his calculations wrong, or was he merely missing something?  It had been hours, and the window for the next occurance was closing quickly.  It was a large city, and he could have missed it already despite his vigilance.  Doubt was beginning to gnaw, as were the dozens of other projects occupying the recesses of his consciousness.  But as the window closed and his mind turned toward returning to his lab, fortune (or quantum synchronicity) finally provided Gravitas with the what he was searching for.

A mugging, simple in it's violence, was unfolding.  Two men, well dressed and holding hands, were stopped by a vagrant for change.  They searched, and were distracted enough to miss the three men emerge from the alley immediately behind them.  A crowbar lifted, a baseball bat swung.  Gravitas analyzed the situation, and realized that though the first hits would not kill, the muggers were not going to stop.  They were angry, perhaps at their victim's wealth, or perhaps by their lifestyle.  But whatever the reason, this would end in death.

There was never more than a single hit however.  A rusted brown van passing by skidded suddenly to a stop, and as the door slid open the muggers looked up.  "Keep outa this, or get fucked up!" was all the warning the third mugger gave as he pulled out a revolver and fired into the woman emerging from the van.  But she kept walking toward him, despite the spray of blood that indicated she was hit.  Then the man behind her emerged, and then another man.  Nova sight pierced the darkness and gave a clear look at them: ragged, dirty, torn, unhealed injuries rotting.  And they gave off no heat signature at all.  But their quantum signature, that was a thing of complex beauty, a matrix of energy twined through each of them and tied to the man only now getting out of the vehicle, his form further decayed than the bodies of his companions.

The muggers shifted from aggression to fear, and the man with the gun fired rapidly.  He missed several times, but two solid hits went unremarked by the rapidly approaching throng from the van.  The muggers turned to run, but their new onlookers were faster than their shambling gate would indicate.  Rotting hands reached for the muggers, and dead flesh held them to the ground as they struggled.  Then they fed.

Simultaneously, the most decayed among them approached the stunned vagrant, pinning him to the wall.  The corpse spoke, turning to look at the men he had just saved.  "Run, tell no one."  Then he bit off the fingers of the homeless man's hand.

She listens to Paul's comments and suggestions. She raises her right arm running her hand through her hair. She then places her elbow on the table resting her head in her hand. She thinks for a moment then straightens and looks Paul in the eyes.

"Ok so we have two options. You leave the team and join me in Utopia. You'd have their backing. Plus we could probably use a porter of your expertise on the new team. There's other things that I'd prefer to have someone I could trust by my side." She pauses slightly to see his reaction. "Or I go back to the assassins which may or may not work out as we both would like it to. What if Earth doesn't support us or they just capture/kill me and turn on you? If it does work out then I'd support you as team leader. As for the two replacements. For Water I have a certain someone we'd have to bust out of prison. However there is a implantation in her head I'd like to have someone try to deal with first. Fire's replacement unless we can talk Tragic into getting involved would be trickier and need a little more time possibly. We'd have to kidnap one of my comrades on T2M, keep her drugged up on what ever power dampening stuff we can get. If she won't willingly join us then we break her. We break her mentally either forcing her to join as our puppet or go as far that she won't be of use to anyone."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:52, Thu 23 June 2011.

"Oh, um, just a couple minutes.  Let me check on them real quick."  She used the chance to turn away and collect her thoughts.  Pulling the steaks out of the oven and checking to see if they were done was easy.  Getting a plate and putting the food on and getting silverware was easy.  Dealing with the news that her family had fallen apart in her absence was not easy.  She tried to think quickly while she worked.  There probably wasn't much she could do to fix this.  Probably not much she could have done to fix it when it happened either.  Which meant, all she could do now was offer Jimmy her hospitality.  Let him know that she still cared.

After everything was ready, she turned back around, offering him the plate with a smile.  "Did you want anything else?  I could whip up a salad or something if you wanted."  Once he had started eating, she took a seat from across from him.  "So why come see me?  Grandma's is much closer than Vegas."

No luck with the wires.  What was the man saying?  The words sank in.

"Oh.  Is that it?"

Despite the simplicity, he could not kill this man.  "You're recording this right now, right?  I'm not angry, I just want to understand.  You think that that," he pointed to the camera, "will ruin my reputation.  Because I came down here to look after my family."  He spoke loudly, loud enough to make sure a microphone could pick up what he was saying.  "Okay.  I'll tell you what I'm going to do.  You bring me his tab and I'm going to pay it.  And I want you to have this."  He produced one of his cards and scribbled one of his extra numbers on the back.  "If anyone bothers you, novas looking to skip out, that kind of thing, you let me know.  I don't like people making trouble in my neighborhood for honest folk doing legal business, you know?  I'll see who I can talk to.  And if they're novas and they're getting punchy or making a mess, you call me first, alright?  I'll settle them down without getting bringing in Utopia or trouble like that."

For accounting purposes, his check books all came with transfer paper, so when he wrote out the check he was very careful to write down exactly what the check was for.  Covering his brother's tab and expenses on that night.  "I'll need, *ahem*," commanding reverb crept into his voice.  He coughed and tried to get rid of it.  "I'll need a copy of the receipt too.  From his tab.  Just for my records, you know, some someone doesn't think I was buying drugs or paying you off or anything."

"Oh, and one more thing.  Let me see your IDs.  I'm not narcing on you, I just want to make sure I know who I'm dealing with.  Met this guy in Africa who could just change his face all around, you know, and he's got it out for me real bad so I check this kind of thing."

"Plans?  The only thing i have right now is plans.  I have vague half remembered images of an old woman holding my baby saying that the drugs aren't working and that he can never know, and of Marcel with 13 pieces of silver.  For now, I need to run down both, but I can't be seen doing so, I'm to visible, to easily tracked.  I will have to use proxies, like whoever organized this did.  I will keep you informed of my progress, my friend."  Imp gave the man a hug, then left.  Soon he was sailing high above the Earth, outside the atmosphere. Just over 2 hours later he was streaking down towards the southern tip of Africa.  He landed clear of the no fly perimeter near Anna's compound, no sense riling up the locals, and walked openly over to the gate house.  "Hello, I'm here to see Anna, no I don't have an appointment."  He was let in shortly afterwards.  As he walked through the lobby he had flashbacks to the last time he had come here, seeking answers.  Nothing had changed, the decor was the same, the receptionist, also, the same.  What was different was the lack of visible nova security, Anna probably figured you'd have to be insane to start something here.
He was ushered into her office and received a warm hug from one of the richest novas on the planet.  "Impetus, it's been too long!" Anna exclaimed, smiling happily.  He smiled back, "And you, Anna, as ravishing as ever." Pleasantries were exchanged, drinks were offered, then business commenced.
"I need two things from you, the first is to go back over a year and track one Marcel, the Apostle, Delorimier.  All his movements, all his communications, all his dealings.  Banking information, everything.  Second," he took a piece of paper and pencil from her desk and drew quickly with surprising skill, "I need you to find this woman.  I don't know who she is or who she works for, but she has something to do with novas.  maybe in R&D, maybe in Utopia, maybe with a government organization.  I have no idea.  Can you do this?"

Jimmy looked up from his food when Gale asked if he wanted anything else.  Not quite mature enough to really understand politeness just yet, he rattled off a list of requests.  "Uhm, yeah, do you have any soda, and a glass of ice?  And maybe some salt, and some A1?  Thanks."  He filled his mouth with food a few times before answering her other question.

Mostly done chewing, he looked up from his plate again.  "I don't know exactly.  Maybe it was the way dad said it, and how he'd always talked about things with you.  Maybe I wanted to get back at him a little.  But I think mostly I just missed you, and wanted to see you again.  And I wanted a break from the family drama back home, find a new place, new opportunities, that sorta thing."  A look of uncertainty showed on his youthful face before he shoveled in more food to hide it.  Talking around a mouthful of steak, he asked "So uh, can I stay with you for a while maybe?  You don't mind do you?  I can just go if you do, just find my way back to Grandma's or something..."

---

Paul looked thoughtful for a moment before replying.  "I think you could come back, I really do.  I know earth would be there for us, and if we could convince Tragic... but we would have to eliminate the others.  Fire and his new recruits.  As for your proposed replacements, I am interested, but unless the woman you intend to replace Fire is a great threat, I want nothing to do with breaking anyone.  There has been too much of that lately."  A haunted look overcame him then.  Apparently recent missions involved more than just killing, things Paul viewed as both troubling and distasteful.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Paul continues. "As to my leaving and joining you, that is something I had never even considered.  I will not lie, it is tempting.  But can they really just wave their hands and make a place for me, let me leave my old life?  If so, I would consider it, but i find it difficult to believe that I could ever leave my past behind."
---

Dillon's senses took a moment to adjust, but he eventually sensed the electric fields of the recording device and the opnet cable connected to the nearby computer.  The camera was wireless, feeding into the computer, which in turn sent it's data to some remote location.

The men looked a bit confused at the nova in front of them.  They had expected at least a bit of strong arming would be required, but instead they were met with an amicable man making a reasonable request.  They complied with Dillon's requests, the boss producing a receipt and the men pulling out their ID's with slightly shaking hands.  They weren't the smartest of criminals.

Terrence was also confused, but he could tell that the tension was leaving the room.  Getting up from the bar, he cautiously approached his brother and stood behind him, clearly hoping they would be leaving soon.

---

Anna was smiling with her mouth but not her eyes as she replied.  "You want me to involve myself in teragen politics by digging up a year of this man's movements, and then find one woman in 7 billion.  Hmmm.  You never make things easy do you?"  She contemplated a moment, swirling the ice in her cup as she did so.  "If you can make me a reasonable promise that the teragen won't be a problem, or at least run interference if they become one, I'll find all the info on Delorimier.  The woman might be as easy as running your picture through a face recognition program, or it might take months of searching.  I make no promises other than to try."

She made several notes on a nearby data pad before looking at Impetus inquisitively.  "You don't have to tell me of course, but what is this all about?  First, all the information you requested from me before, and now this?  I keep trying to understand your place in things, and it keeps eluding me."

---

The corpses continue to consume the nearby criminals as the men they saved run in stark terror.

"Rest assured, the Terragen won't come after you, save for those loyal to Delorimier. And those that are loyal to the man aren't the ones you need to worry about doing anything violent, Geryon most certainly isn't on Apostle's fan club list, and he's alienated most of the other radicals, and much of the Pantheon. If anybody does start anything, just let me know, I'll talk to them.  The people you'll have to worry about are his fan club and baseline sycophants. He's almost as good as I am at manipulating people and attracting followers.
The woman you need to be careful about, I don't know who she is or who she works for, but she's trouble, serious trouble. Be very careful with this one, my friend."
"Agreed, beautiful. She has the power to drag everything and everyone down into madness and death." Car's voice whispered in his head.
Imp kept the shock from his face, was this what it was like, going mad? Regaining his train of thoughts after only the slightest pause, he continued. "My place in all this is at the middle, it'll be far more satisfying for you to figure it out without my telling you, you probably have some very good guesses. Know that nothing I ask of you is done frivolously, and should any harm come to you because of what I ask, I will move Heaven and Earth to make amends. Which reminds me, don't trust Carrington farther than you absolutely have to, his ambition is well hidden, but it may drown out his better angels if the correct opportunity presents itself."

The situation was fascinating. Were these corpses animated by some sort of necromantic nova power? If that was the case, the one their signature was tied too was almost certainly the nova in question, and that nova had developed a severe case of what many of the younger Terats simply called 'Taint'. His rotting appearance and the fact that he was biting fingers off of people was evidence enough of that.

Quentin stood and dusted off the back of his pants. There really wasn't anything he could do to save the muggers at this point, but he supposed he should do something to stop the zombie horde from leaving the scene, at least before he could question them. He brought up his matte black shielding in order to ward off hungry zombies if they decided he was a snack. He walked over to where they fed and spoke. "I thought I might find you here," he said, keeping his voice carefully neutral. "I have a number of questions I'd like you to answer," he continued, "and I'll have to insist that this... incident be the last of its kind."

"They took me in didn't they." She gestures to herself. "As I said your a better person than I ever was. I have no doubt that you could do it. I did, and yes I'll always remember the past. I can't change what I did, but I know now I'm doing the right thing."

She lets Paul take it in for a moment. "Even if things were borderline. You'd be able to supply some valuable information. And we could use a new porter for the team as well. I'll be there for you." She stands up and and looks him in the eyes. "You want to give it a try then come back to base with me. You don't like it or it doesn't go well then you can just port out of there. If it does then we'll be together again in a better place. And together we'll go find Shiro."

She extends her hand to him...

Salt and A1.  Ouch.  Guess her cooking still didn't stand up to their mother's, no matter how much she practiced.  After getting his requests, she settled back at the table.  "No, no, of course you can stay.  As long as you want.  I said I had a spare bedroom, didn't I?"

There was a long awkward pause.  Gale's claws clicked on the table, before she finally folded her hands.  "But, um, you have to know that I have a pretty public life now.  And, um, not everybody likes me.  My life isn't exactly drama-free either."  Man this was awkward.  She wasn't sure Jimmy understood just how much she was watched these days, and how much the Michaelists hated her.  She was grateful that he hadn't freaked out about the blue hair, or the scars from the nuclear blast she'd been near.  Did he notice?  Was he being polite?  Did he even have any idea of what she had gone through?  She didn't know.

Her first encounter with one of her family after 6 years, and she had nothing but questions.  Questions she was too afraid to actually ask.

A few thousand bucks later, he had everything he'd need to look these guys up, find out if they had rap-sheets, and hopefully just keep an eye on them.  The computer wouldn't be a problem.  He'd disclose everything to his friends straight away and ask them to keep it quiet for the sake of his brother.

There would be tabloids, but there would always be tabloids.  He'd survive.

Once Terrance and Dillon were back in the truck and the door was shut, he started the engine and pulled out.  "Alright Terry, you mind telling me what all of that was."  He drove slow and careful, as calm as possible.  "I've got all night."

Anna seems taken aback by his final comment.  "I... Thank you?  How do you know?  You know what, never mind.  You're the master of that game, you would know.  I'll trust you, we've seldom lied to one another in the past.  And I'll help you find what you're looking for.  But Impetus..."  Looking him in the eyes as she moves closer, she whispers in his ear as she presses against him.  "...You have to let me in.  On everything.  We could be good for each other, in so many ways."

---

The "zombies" milled about as their leader's brow furrowed in confusion.  Finally, it spoke in a throaty rasp.  "I... I know you.  Quentin?  What are you... doing here?"  The rotting nova's gaze shifted erratically as his addled brain tried to process what was happening.  "This can't be the last.  I must punish those that... That do bad things, hurt people.  And I need friends, people to protect... me.  And I'm so, sooo hungry..."

---

Paul took the offered hand.  He wasn't necessarily a trusting sort, but 'Kaze had seldom been one for complex manipulations, and he was desperate for a change.  "I'm tired of the old life.  But I warn you, if you sponsor me, it will go even worse with the rest of the assassins.  We will be at the top of their list after this, and your team may not be enough to protect us."

A look of deep self-hatred passes over his features before settling into a resigned peace. "But they can come for me, I don't care any longer.  This fight has been long in coming.  I simply hope we don't get anyone else killed in the cross fire.  Where do we go, and who do we speak to about this?"

---

"Hey, that's cool sis', no worries.  I'll stay out of the way, and when you have free time you can show me around.  I've seen you on TV and stuff, it looks like you have a pretty cool life, it'd be pretty awesome to see some of it..."  Jimmy let his words hang awkwardly.  Gale could tell that she wasn't the only one with questions, and it dawned on her that there might be more reasons that Jimmy had gone to her instead of their grandmothers.  The life of a nova was exciting and luxurious, with access to things that the common baseline could only dream of.  Not that her brother was there for the money, of course that wasn't it... but the nova lifestyle would certainly be an added incentive for a young man with big dreams and small opportunities.

"Ah, anyway, I don't mean to be a jerk, but I'm having trouble keeping my eyes open.  It was a long trip.  You mind if I crash for a few hours?  Then maybe we can talk some more, catch up and all that."  He stretched and yawned as he scooted back from the table, leaving his empty plate behind.  His fatigue was beginning to show heavily now that the edge of hunger was gone.  Groggily, he mumbled, "So uh, where'd you want me?  Oh, hey, is Impetus as cool in person as on TV?"

---

"That was Dillon the hero, coming into rescue his fuck up of a brother."   Terry grimaced in anger, then hung his head in shame.  "Ah shit Dillon, I'm sorry.  You don't deserve that.  I appreciate the rescue, I needed it.  Those guys..."  His eyes roved around the truck, avoiding Dillon's as he searched for words.

"I didn't mean to go into debt like that.  It was just gonna be a few bets, and they were sure things, I knew the guys running the fights and they said... Eh, doesn't matter.  Point is, sure thing turned into a lot of money I didn't have.  I took out some loans to pay some other even meaner people.  Then those guys decided to up the interest, and that's when I got mad.  I never hit any of them, just waived the bat around when they came tryin' to get double their money off of me.  Then some guy grabbed me from behind, and here we are."

---

El Dragon was world famous.  New member of Team Tomorrow, Columbian War veteran, U.S. armed forces celebrity.  Fame he had in abundance, but sadly money was a different matter.  His position as an officer prevented him from taking any endorsement deals or advertising jobs; appearances at military-industrial events like plant openings and showings for the latest technologies were simply part of his job as the face of the U.S. military.  Utopia paid him per diem, but he was technically a consultant provided by the U.S., and thus they recieved the pay that he deserved.  In short, though he made a reasonable salary for an average military officer (and a few bonuses besides), he was among the poorest of novas.

But Angelo wasn't a complicated man.  He didn't need the most fashionable clothing, or to party in Ibiza or Vegas.  He was a soldier at heart, and the simple things generally sufficed.  But it sure would be nice if he could afford to pay the bank that was about to foreclose on his family's ranch.

"Oh, um,"  Gale stood up, standing on formalities that weren't really necessary, given the circumstances.  "Go down the hall.  It's the door on the left.  Each room has it's own bathroom, so you can wash up there if you want."  The second question caught her completely off-guard.  "Um, I guess.  He can be very charming."

She watched Jimmy enter the spare bedroom, waiting for him to shut the door.  Then she went to sit at the table again.  Her lips rested against folded hands, and she stared out the window at the city.  "Oh god, what am I going to do?"

"Ah shit, Terry," he sighed.  "I've heard this before, don't drop all this on me.  You grow up around Vegas you aren't supposed to gamble, you're supposed to know better than that."  He ground his teeth together.  "You sure you didn't actually hit anybody?  Because if something comes of all this that's going to make one hell of a difference."

"Sonuva...!" the curse was punctuated by a deep thud as El Dragon's fist impacted the newly repaired concrete wall, leaving a fist-sized dent and a crack.  Shoot, he thought, I used to have to work to dent a wall with a punch...I'll have to watch that.  Then he turned back to the email he had gotten from his Tia Carmen.

She wrote to tell him that the bank was threatening to foreclose on the mortgage on the ranch.  At first he couldn't understand it, they had been making all their payments, then reading on, he discovered the source of the problem.  The main source of income for the rancho was a herd of Limosin cattle that they had built up through hard work.  They could sell enough cattle to the beef market that when combined with what Dragon sent home of his paycheck they made their payments.

Apparently, last year, without telling Dragon, his father, younger sister, and brother decided to sell most of the herd and "invest" it.  Now the money was gone, the cattle were gone, and if they couldn't think of something, the ranch that had been in his family for more than 200 years would be gone as well.

With Paul taking her hand and agreeing to come Suzukaze pulls him into a hug. "I don't care if they come after us. All that matters is I get to be beside my best friend again. We'll head over to the base right now talk to either Impetus or Frostburn. Hopefully they'll be able to start the process or get in touch with the right people."

"I've been looking for you, Ben," Quentin responded to the first question he was asked. "You need help, Ben. I don't know what they did to you exactly, but it is clear that there were side effects." He pointed meaningfully at the body still being ravaged by his brother's minions, "I can't really fault you for attacking people like that - frankly the world is probably better off without them - but there are better ways to handle them." He would have sighed if he were still prone to that sort of display, but he wasn't, so he was just silent for a few moments to let his addled brother take in what he'd said.

"I can get you help," he continued, "Help you need to master your abilities and, I hope, treatment for your... hunger." He was less certain about the later, though he tried not to let it show. Nova physiological studies were still trying to understand the entire 'Taint' issue and treatments had met with mixed, and mostly negative, results thus far.

As she sat at the table, it occured to Gale that she had no word from either of her parents.  Did her mother now that Jimmy had left?  Did her father care where he'd gone?  What was she supposed to do with the mess that had fallen into her lap, and how was she to mend relationships long broken?

Jimmy spent a full 12 hours asleep, oblivious to Gale's emotional turmoil.  After a large breakfast, he sat staring across the table at his big sister, waiting for the next step in his grand new adventure.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
This can be taken slowly, on a day to day basis, or we can speed things up and hit the high points.  Your call, on your next response set the pace you prefer for this particular story and I'll try to match it. 

---

---

"Well, I uh, not really..."  Terry definitely seemed to be hedging, and he finally stuttered out the facts.  "I did take a swing, but that was only after they came up to me, threatening me.  And yeah, I should know better.  Look, I know the lecture, I gave it to myself when I was sitting at the bar.  I'm... I'm real sorry I drug your reputation down into this, I know how important it is to you."  It was hard to tell from his tone if that was actual regret, or just resentment coloring Terry's voice.  Perhaps both.

---

In the weeks following the email, Angelo recieved several more calls from his family.  They never asked for money directly, but they made it clear where things stood with the family ranch, how precarious things were.  And Angelo's duty was all too clear.  But there was simply no money available.

What were the options?  By all rights, the world should have been his playground, given his powers and fame.  But he was locked in by his commision, and his fame made it all the harder to work around his military status.  There were small jobs he could take on the side, but they wouldn't pay enough to solve the problem, or the legal ones wouldn't anyway.  There was DeVries, they'd pay well and probably even cover the fact that he'd worked for them, at least until it was useful to let it slip.  Or he could borrow the money from his new friends in Utopia, they were all quite rich, but the hit to his social standing and pride would be intolerable.  Ha, maybe he could go put on a mask and join the XWF, take some hokey stage name and fight for pay.  None of the options were terrribly appealing...

---

Paul nodded, and returned the embrace.  "Tell me where to go, and I'll take us there.  Lets do this now, before I realize how crazy this is."

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
You can pick who to do this with, and where, just let me know in your next post and we'll pick the scene up at the meeting.

---

---

"It is you... So confused Q-ball, can't remember what happened.  They shot me, then I woke up on a table, needles and cutting and pain... OH GOD MAKE IT STOP!"  Ben curled in, hunching over and dry heaving.  A finger fell from his mouth as he sobbed. "Then it all went black again, before I woke up in a different place, a hospital.  They'd cut me open further, I should have been dead, but I wasn't.  Quentin... Why am I not dead?  Am I like you now?"

Ben's entourage of former victims stared blankly as they swayed slightly, unnerving gazes locked onto Gravitas.  Ben clearly wasn't well, but more than that, there was a part of him missing.  Part of his personality, memories, even his quantum signature, just gone.  And that void was filled, at least temporarily, by consuming the quantum signatures of others.  Quentin could see it happening as they spoke.

---

Anna continued the role of seductress if not stopped, gently running her hands through Impetus's hair.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:26, Wed 27 July 2011.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
totally missed Anna coming on to Imp. Musta skipped past it in my morning pre coffee fugue

---

"Not pulling away yet, my love?" Car's voice whispered in his head "I understand the biological drive, it's been some time for you, yes? Think of the consequences, if you take her up on her offer you'd have the ear, and other things, of one of the most powerful women on the planet. If you don't, you'll have to be very careful or you'll ruin a very useful relationship." never had the voice in his head sounded so real, so aware of what was going on. His mind raced, wheels spun. It was true, it had been quite some time, but he had learned to distance himself from those more animalistic urges, for the most part.
"Sorry, beautiful, but I made a promise to someone," he said gently, "if the situation was different I'd have made a play for you long ago." he smiled that impossibly charming, definitely rakish grin that was his trademark, or had been before Colombia. "Think of the scandal we'd have caused, that and the assassins we'd attract." He finished seriously. "If there's anything I can do that doesn't involve sex, I'm in." Imp had a long history of breaking up with women. He'd been with hundreds that first year after his eruption, and had mastered the body language, the tone of voice, the inflection necessary to let people down gently but firmly. The rub of it was that he would have genuinely been interested in Anna: she was smart, ferociously capable, confident and beautiful, but until he figured out if he was going crazy, or if Car was actually in his head, there was no way he was going to start a relationship where he might hurt someone he genuinely cared about.
OOC: used social-Fu to defuse the situation.

Gale sat across the table from him, hands folded carefully.  "Ok, Jimmy.  We have to talk seriously about this.  Does Mom know you're here?"  She had a feeling she already knew the answer to that.  "You're gonna have to tell her at some point.  She'll be worried sick.  That's not fair to her."

"Here's how this is going to work.  You can't be my brother.  Not officially.  I made a promise when this all started, and I've carved out a new identity for myself.  I can't change that right now.  It would be too much."  She took a deep breath.  That had been hard to say.  But it was true.  It needed to be said.  "We need to come up with some excuse for you to hang around me so much.  People will ask questions.  You could be an environmental activist, a student maybe.  That's the biggest thing I work on these days.  Or maybe I can hire you as my personal assistant.  You wouldn't have to do anything, it would just give you an excuse."  She'd thought hard about this.  She might have been able to dump him at the bungalow in Hawaii.  That would have kept him out of sight.  But she didn't want him to think she was ashamed of him.  It was just very complicated.

It was going to be a PR nightmare.

"You also have to be aware that I have enemies.  The Michaelists hate me.  So, I want you to keep a cellphone on you at all times, and try to keep in touch with me when you're out and about, ok?"  She sounded like a parent.  How fitting.

Assuming that he agreed to her terms, she'd set about putting the plan together.  She expected it would be a week or so before he told their mother.  In the mean time, she needed to integrate him into her public persona.  A few shopping trips got him a new suitable wardrobe, as well as additions to her usual grocery bill.  She did keep come things from him, at least for this initial tryout.  She didn't introduce him to the team.  She didn't tell him about the secret window exit.  She still wasn't sure this would be permanent.

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I hope this gets across the pace I'm ok with.  I don't want to go day by day, unless significant things happen.  When stuff does happen, I want more detail then.

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His brother's quantum signature was odd, it was true, but then again baseline humans pretty much never had one to begin with. "Yes, I think you've erupted. Your altered physiology is most likely what kept you alive." He would have gone on further regarding the likely alterations that had led to his brother's continued life, but decided it was best to simply stop there.

"There are sometimes side effects to eruption," he pointed at his own eyes by way of illustration, "and clearly you are suffering from some. Come with me. We can get you treatment."

"Goddamnit Terry, forget the nova shit for a minute and listen to your little brother!"  He was shouting now.  "What's it gonna take?  What's it gonna take to get your ass back in the saddle?  Mom and Dad have to come asking me what's going on in your life since you're not talking, and you haven't held down a serious job since the trucking company let you go."  He could feel the steering wheel compressing under his grip.

He sighed.  "What's it going to take?  You want me to find you a job?  You want me to set you up someplace else?  You want to take a swing at me?  Help me understand.  I'm dying to know."

Suzukaze tells Paul where to go to get back to headquarters. "I think we'll meet with Frostburn. She's a little higher up in Utopia. However we should probably meet with Impetus as well or include him in the meeting as he is the team leader. Let's get going."

Anna pulled away slowly, dissappointment but not defeat showing in her eyes.  There would be other opportunities...

"We'll talk again.  Things change.  In the meantime, I'll help you of course.  Just make sure my people don't get caught in the crossfire and that you've got my interests in mind when talking to those nice people you work with in the U.N. and Utopia.  And a sizable paycheck of course."  She smiled, winked and looked down at her computer to start typing private emails.  Impetus would get his information, but Anna DeVries would present a problem in the future, he could feel it.

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Consider this the first of many wonderful manifestations of your negative backgrounds... Anna is your number one fan, and she just KNOWS you would make the perfect power couple.  Enjoy ;)

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As Gale broke the news to her brother, she saw a bit of sadness, but when he heard "personal assistant" he perked right up again.  "I could be great at that, I mean I'd be so much better than some random person that doesn't even know you.  Hey, you still like you're ice cream with marshmallows and coconut?  I can make it happen...  And all for the low, low price of room, board, and half what you'd normally pay someone like that."  He smiled cleverly, hoping to get a bit of money out of the deal, an some money of his own to spend in the new life he'd thrust himself into.

He was unhappy at calling Mom, but with big sister looking over his shoulder he finally broke down and made the call.  It was short and to the point, but by the end of it she knew he was alright, and had a contact number.

Gale was just starting to think things were getting settled in, when her mother called.  She halted any attempts to get Jimmy.  "No, I wanted to talk to you.  I'm... I'm glad you took in your brother.  I just wanted to say that, and that I'm sorry.  I finally left your father after all that Michaelist crap he'd been buying into, it was just the last straw.  I couldn't make your brother see reason either, your father and he were so close after you left, but I guess a little time on his own with the man gave him some perspective.  Anyway, I just wanted to let you know... well, I'd wanted to contact you after I finally left, but I didn't want to mess up the new life you'd built.  But now that your brother gave us an opportunity to talk again... Well maybe we could get closer again.  You have my number if you need anything.  Just... Just call me if you need anything, or even if you just want to talk."

---

Ben was confused, and torn by the options in front of him.  He started to shuffle forward, but then a memory flashed across his face, horror and pain at the procedure that had forced his eruption.  "NO!  No experiments, no help, no labs, no medicine!"  Ben ran, and his puppets stumbled towards Gravitas.

---

"Yeah, I'd love to take a swing at you, but my hand wouldn't make it out in one piece.  You know what I want Dillon?  I want the goddamned world to make sense again.  You get all this, it just drops in your lap, and I worked damned hard for what I have, too hard to have it all fall out from under me.  And sure, you help, but it's all charity, and I'm sick of having to take your help.  And what pisses me off the most, is that I don't even get ta be pissed off at you.  Saint-Fucking-Comstock, savior of the world.  They don't know the nights you came in drunk off your ass and I covered for you, they don't know the fights and the bullshit I've pulled you out of, they don't see that but for a random roll of the dice it could've been me instead of you."  There were tears in his eyes as he spoke, and he looked quickly away to hide his shame.

---

Paul nodded, and the two disappeared.

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I'll leave it to you to set the scene.  Set the meeting when and where you want, invite who you want, and I'll follow up with responses in my next post.

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I'll get more going for flare and dragon in my next post as well.  Maybe Kraken as well if he has some things he'd like to explore?

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Back at headquarters Suzukaze takes a look around and spots Binary talking with Impetus's assistant Joe looking at some paperwork. She grabs Paul's hand and starts to pull him along. "Come on this way." She approaches the two men and interrupts their conversation. "Guys I'm sorry to interrupt you, but this is important. This is Paul a friend of mine and a porter. He wants to join us, but there are things that have to go through regarding his situation. I need to meet with both Impetus and Frostburn. Can you guys get them while I take Paul to the meeting room and get him settled?"

Gale laughed at Jimmy's attempt to say he was worthy of the job.  "There's more to it than making me ice cream.  And I'll definitely pay you.  Wouldn't be fair if I didn't."  She wouldn't make Jimmy rich, but since she was providing room and board, he would at least have some spending money of his own.

Her conversation with her mother was emotional, to say the least.  At some points she almost burst into tears.  She'd been wanting to contact her again for years, and now it was like she was finally being given permission to do so.  It wasn't the reunion she had wanted, but she made sure her mom knew that she wasn't angry, and she would call, and if her mom was ever in the area, to stop by and visit.

"What, you want to be me now?  What exactly is it that makes my life so goddamn great?"  He was grinding the steering wheel with his fingers.  He wanted anger; going heavy and locking down would cut him off, and his brother needed him to feel right now.  "You think my world makes sense?  Bullshit, Terry, none of the world makes sense.  What the hell would you do if you were me?"

"You want to fuck off and do it all on your own, you do that.  But all I've got going for me is my work and the little satisfaction now and then that I look after my own, so get some goddamn perspective."  The steering wheel cracked under his grip.  He'd get something steel to replace it.  "Fuck, you're complaining that you have some support?  You could go back to school, find another goddamn country, join the army.  What the hell are you afraid of?"

Quentin frowned. It appeared that his brother was not entirely stable - not just in a quantum sense, but in a mental sense. That would complicate things. He was not the most well-equipped individual to deal with some sort of psychosis.

There were trade offs for every nova's gifts. Most of them weren't necessarily physical or mental - often they were social trade offs. The majority of novas could never live a 'normal' life ever again. They would always be viewed as different by those that had until recently been their peers. Some paid a higher price for their gifts - his brother seemed to be, certainly.

Quentin found himself wondering if that marked-up price tag on his brother's powers was due to an artificial eruption process or if it was simply a luck-of-the-draw problem - many others that had erupted naturally experienced similar problems. Unfortunately the answer to that question may well only be found in a laboratory environment, and his brother didn't seem very keen on allowing Quentin to experiment.

He supposed he should deal with his brothers minions first; they were still lurching toward him. "For what it is worth," he said to the... what? The zombies, he supposed. Anything was possible. "I am sorry for what my brother has done to you." He brought up a palm of his hand and opened fire on them.

A few moments later he took to the air to begin the search for his brother again. He couldn't have gotten too far on foot - at least not without some as-yet-unknown power. Still, without knowing about it, Quentin started with the assumption that his brother was only slightly faster on his feet than the typical athletic baseline. It would help narrow the search, at least.

Flare was immersed in the nova life; with her father dead, her mother a born again Michaelist, and her life both extremely busy and intensely interesting, she had only the occasional visits with her uncle to keep her tied to reality.  When her uncle called this time, it was almost jarring attempting to transition to mundane conversation from the analysis of the maps she'd been sent for her latest private mission with Utopia.  It was apparently off the books, but the higher ups had chosen her, which must have meant she was doing something right...

Her uncle's voice cut through her thoughts like a hot knife through butter.  "Hey there kiddo.  I uh, well, you might want to sit down for this.  It may not be a big deal to you, but then again, well... Hell, I'll just come out and say it: your mother is... Eileen is getting re-married.  She met some guy, at a church retreat, a real piece of work if you ask me.  He's been out of a job for the last year, right up until he got work doing construction for those Michaelists, and he's a 'reformed' alcoholic.  This soon after your father its just wrong you ask me.  And who on earth wants to go by Mrs. Harold Wilderschmidt?"

---

Terry turned to Dillon, and he looked more sober than he had in quite some time.  "I'm afraid of a lot of things Dillon."  He said quietly.  This kind of thing was hard for him, but he didn't seem embarrassed, only sad.  "I'm afraid that I don't matter any more, maybe that none of us matter.  I'm afraid for you, with what you do all the time.  And--" He paused for a moment, then gave the steering wheel a meaningful look.  "And sometimes Dill', I'm afraid of you.  You're better than me you know, in just about every way.  No, don't give me any bullshit.  You are.  You think quicker, know more, have better training.  And if you got mad, went crazy, or had some super villain mind control you... Well, there's nothing I could do, maybe not anything most of the other novas out there could do.  It'd be like stopping a force of nature.  People like me, we just pray when there's an earthquake or a tornado, 'cause its out of our hands whether we live or die.  And you might as well be a volcano for all the power we have to stop you."

---

Quentin easily found Ben, but when he arrived, he was met with an eery reflection of his own powers.  Ben stood in front of vortex of quantum energies, swirling blacks and greys looking almost exactly like a photo negative of Quentin's own wormhole.  Still, he could stop Ben, or at least his body, from leaving.  But the sack of dead meat standing there was no longer Ben.  Quantum sight revealed Ben's signature being consumed by the vortex, leaving a husk of a stranger behind.  As the portal irised closed, Ben's former vessel fell lifelessly to the ground.

---

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you can follow through if you want... no telling where it goes though.

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I didn't get a response for Dragon regarding the post before last, so I'll just continue with story

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Angelo fumed, and stalled for time.  Days passed, but no new solutions presented themselves.  There were precious few resources available to someone in his position.  Work in the entertainment industry was lucrative if he could manage to hide his identity.  Crime paid well, but that went against everything he stood for.  Loans from friends would be a permanent scar on both relationships, and his pride.  Heavy Industry would pay handsomely, but who would he have to work for and what would he have to do?

Then he got another call, this time an update on the ranch.  A minor quake in the area had damaged several buildings, and the Santa Ana winds that followed it days later left the roof of the barn torn apart, and one of the sheds collapsed.  The ranch continued to hemorrhage money, and his family was being torn apart trying to save it.

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"Uh, yeah, sure, we'll get it taken care of."  "He's in a meeting, but I'm sure he'll come back any minute now, and I'll message him just in case."  Binary and Joe were extremely polite and did everything in their power to make 'Kaze feel at ease.  They offered drinks, got seats, and quickly sent out messages.  Word had gotten around about Suzukaze's unstable temper, and base staff walked on eggshells around her.

After 10 minutes, Frostburn arrived.  "This going to need privacy Suzuka?  And who's this?"

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Impetus can come in whenever he likes, as his scene above was ending anyway.  We can cut to this scene, then back to his continuing quest.

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Jimmy had a blast as Gale's assistant.  He enjoyed being important, and actually was pretty good at the job; he could talk to people quite well, and was quite charismatic.  He spent his time off, and the not insubstantial salary he was receiving, playing with rich new friends that his position as a nova "insider" had gotten him.  Harmless fun and games, though hopefully he didn't think these people were really his friends...

A letter came in the mail for Jimmy, some sort of card from the shape and color of the envelope.  And it had no return address.

After Joe and Binary get them settled Suzukaze sits in silence next to Paul. She seems to be more nervous than he is and reaches over to take his hand. When Frostburn enters she stands and bows.

"It may need to be private, but Impetus should hopefully be here soon as well. I feel It would be best to wait for him. But the reason for this is him." She gestures to Paul. "This is my friend Paul Jenkins. He's a porter and after meeting with him he would like to join our team. However his situation is similar to mine. The old team would know him better as Assassin Void, and like me he is now going to be a hunted by them."

Impetus strode through the door, curious why he was being asked to attend a meeting with Sue and Frosty.  If he was startled by the stranger's presence he made no outward sign.  He extended a hand, shook warmly, and sat.  "Sue, what's this about?"

Suzukaze takes Paul's hand again as Impetus enters. She repeats for him what she just told Frostburn then holds for a moment to let it settle.

"Please just talk with him. He deserves a chance. I was given a chance. A chance that I admit was possibly a failure. But he isn't like me. He's a much better person. I'd even give up my place on the team for him. The team lacks a porter which he can fill if allowed. And besides If we're both going to be hunted by the assassins then it's best we are together. I can't leave him alone in that matter."

"Assuming he passes the psyche eval, physical eval, basic training, and performance reviews he can be considered for a spot on T2M. I won't sugar coat this Sue, Paul.  Getting a spot on T2M is extremely difficult, it's by invitation only, and to be considered you need to have serious oomph, be photogenic, have powers that will synergies well with the team, and pass a battery of interviews.  Also, it's T2M policy that individuals that share a past are not put on the same team as emotions can compromise decision making in crises.   I will follow your progress with interest, Paul, and I assure you that if you earn a position with Utopia it will be the most amazing life path you can be on.  Sue can show you to the recruitment office, unless there was something else I'm on with some of Wallstreet's leading lights shortly."

"Aw fer fucks-" he shook his head.  "You been listening to Rush Limbaugh again?  Or that Jordan McDevitt guy?  Jesus."

Terry was right.  But he was also dissembling.  "So you drink because you're scared because I could flip out.  Yeah, that makes a lot of fucking sense.  Come on, we're here.  This is still your place, right?"  He parked.  "When you get out of this car, are you going to hit another bottle up there?  You want me to come up, help you sort some more of this out?  What?"  What the hell more could he say, anyway?  His brother didn't even think he was a human being anymore, and was justifying his own slow crawl into the depths of self-deprivation with that belief.  "Look I want to help, Terry, but you're making it really damn hard."

Something for Jimmy?  Something from Mom maybe?  Who else knew he was here?  Maybe he was giving the address out to his contacts?  She held the envelope up to the light, but unwilling to investigate further than that, she set it on the dining room table.  "Jimmy!  Mail for you!"  She returned to sorting through the rest of the envelopes.  Fanmail, fanmail, fanmail, bill, fanmail, junk, fanmail,...

How? Why would her mother do this?

Replacing the phone, and all her things, would be no major problem.  The main hallway of Utopia, however, was going to be blackened for quite a while; thank goodness most people were out of the sleeping area during the day.   Had she thought herself in control and awesome just a few minutes ago? Now here she was down a side corridor in the science sector, sniffling and sobbing like a child.

Flare paced back and forth in the hallway, swiping angrily at her eyes and glaring daggers at the one lab tech that’d happened upon her.

That bitch.  How could they even be related?  She had no illusions about her mother.  Katelin Childe had never been an open minded nor brilliant woman, but she had been a dedicated wife and mother.  Caring for her children had been her career and Flare grew up believing she could always rely on her.   She’d had that believe dashed once when she’d decided to be a police officer, and again upon awakening.  Rather than supporting a child who’d become a nova, Flare’s mother had rejected her.  Enduring her presence at the few family gatherings Flare had attended with a look of fear and an unwillingness to even speak to her daughter.

Flare had let her mother go, even when her father had died, she’d offered her condolences to the widow Childe with all the feeling of other acquaintances.   Now though…how could the woman who raised her do this?  Flare had ignored the Michaelists movement for the most part, and they seemed to ignore her just as much.  Perhaps because Flare rarely held back from using her powers.   Now her darling mother was chaining her whole family to the movement.

Flare grimaced at the thought taking shape.  She wiped her eyes a final time, blinking rapidly to clear out the redness, and with a final sniffle made her way into the main area of the compound.   Perhaps it was time to pay her dear family a visit…and crash a Michaelist wedding.

Frostburn raised an eyebrow and grimaced slightly.  More complications, but it was hard not to see the opportunity that Paul represented.  He was already experienced, and inured to the horrors that were all to common in nova encounters.  He had a valuable power suite, especially with both Slider and Gravitas gone from the team.  And he was a "bad guy" switching sides, which had a great many risks but was also gave Utopia a chance to apprehend his former group and remove an asset from their enemies.

"I'll make some calls.  And since 'Kaze is auxiliary anyway, the relationship thing won't be an issue.  That said, his past will.  You were something of an exception Suzuka, and your record might influence how the directors view his application.  But we'll try, and either way he'll be given protection by Utopia from his former associates.  We'll do our best to take care of him.  But I need to ask you Paul, are you sure this is what you want?"

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Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Winding this scene down, maybe just a good reply post and then we'll move on to another vignette.  This will either lead to more on Shiro, or it will be about the revenge of the assassins at a very bad time for 'Kaze.  We'll see how things go.

For Impetus, this will lead wherever you want, but I'd wait and see the fallout from Teams before deciding.

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--

When Jimmy got home, he was surprised to see the letter.  He opened it right away, and gave a surprised whistle.  "Well, you aren't going to believe this.  Well, this part you will at least, Mom and Dad are divorced.  But the part you won't believe is that Dad's already getting re-married.  Apparently his new wife thinks family is important, so she sent me a wedding announcement.  Oh, and uh, guess where their getting married..."  After pausing just long enough for dramatic effect, Jimmy continues.  "Some Michaelist church."

---

Terry's mood shifted again, this time to sullen exhaustion mixed with chagrin.  "No, no I'll be fine.  I'm just sorry I drug you into this at all.  And it's not your fault I'm like this, I just need...  I just need to get my shit together.  I know it.  But I just thought I'd tell you some of this, while I'm drunk enough not to stop myself.  You're my brother, I love you no matter what you turn into, but I needed to tell you how things are for me, what it's like.  I... fuck, I'm tired.  Thanks for the bail out, and the ride, and even the goddamned Talk.  I promise I'll get my shit together, but now all I really want to do is take a piss and pass out.  I'll... Call you later this week or something?  And if there's anything I can do for you, down here at the bottom, let me know."

"Swing by the charity later this week and we'll do lunch, okay?  Take it easy."  With that, Comstock waited for his brother to get inside and turn on the lights, then drove slowly back to his office.  He didn't have a 'home' -- not a real one anyway.  He kept his room on the Utopia campus and he had a spare private office at the charity offices.  And the safehouse for his 'hobbies'.  But no 'home' exactly.

He tried to sleep and not think about destroying the bar's computer.  Or the two men that took advantage of his brother just to get to him.

"Ah."  Awkward.  Especially given her history with the Michaelists.  She briefly wondered if her eruption was what had caused her dad to turn to the Michaelists.  "You going to go?"  It was a cautious question.  She still didn't honestly know Jimmy enough to know how close he was to their dad.  Mom had hinted at some things, but the winged woman hadn't felt comfortable enough to ask.

Angelo strode into his room and started to put together a backpack of things he'd need for his trip.  His lips were pressed tightly together and his jaw muscles clenched.  He hated what he was going to have to do, but after weeks of wrangling with his family, the bank, and his own conscience he couldn't see any alternative. He stopped in the middle of his packing and pulled out his phone.  Utopia had assigned an “agent” to him when he was attached to T2M:A, but he had never called the man, just a single exchange of e-mail pleasantries as part of his in-processing.

“Yes, may I speak to Mr. Richards please?” Angelo asked the receptionist who answered his call.  “Tell him that El Dragon needs to speak with him on an urgent matter.”

While he waited, he plugged in his earpiece and went on with his packing.  “Mr. Richards, hello, El Dragon.  I ...need a favor...

* * * * *

Soaring in over the San Emigdio Mountains in the late morning sunlight, El Dragon aimed for a dusty expanse of grassy pastures draped across their foothills at the southern end of the San Joachin Valley.  He flew down low, skimming the hilltops, making for a large colonial era hacienda near the northern border of the property.  Even though he hadn't been here in years, he still knew the contours of the land well.

Ahead and to his right he saw a woman on a chocolate colored mare galloping slowly across a hilltop.  He shifted his eufiber from his El Dragon suit to a “Go Army” t-shirt, jeans and hiking boots, and slowly curved in until he was flying along beside her.  He knew the horse had already seen him and as long as he didn't make any sudden moves it was willing to keep doing what the rider wanted.

He flew along, lying on his side, gradually easing up until his sister spotted the movement in her peripheral vision.  She started to turn, then jumped, staring in astonishment for a few seconds.  Then her face lit up and her eyes flew open wide. “Angelo!” she shouted with a squeal, and reined her horse in.  When she had stopped, she practically leapt out of her saddle to drape herself around her brother's neck.

He caught her and spun her around.  “Hello Miranda,” he said.  For a few moments he just basked in the sun of his sister's welcome, eyes closed and smiling contentedly.

“Why didn't you tell us you were coming?” she asked as he gently settled them on the ground.

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Angelo said, smiling.  It wasn't a lie, but it concealed the real truth.  “Where are Mom and Dad, and Lorenzo?”

She stepped back, smiling broadly.  “Mama is at the house, and Papi and Renzo went to town, but they should be back pretty soon.  Oh! Everyone is going to be so excited to see you!”

Angelo listened through her little burst of speech, which ended with an enthusiastic hop when she said “excited.”  She was 24, but sometimes she acted 16. He didn't know whether to be amused by her girlish antics, or amazed at the joy and energy that bubbled forth from her.  “I'm sure Mama will be excited,” Angelo said, “and Lorenzo, maybe, but I don't think excited will describe how Papi is going to react...especially when he finds out why I'm here.”


“Why are you here,” she asked, her sudden curiosity causing her to tip her head to the side.  “No, wait!” she said, clapping her hands over his mouth, “If it's something depressing, I don't want to hear it until after dinner at least.  I want to enjoy at least that.”  Her words began to trail off, and she took her hands off Angelo's mouth and stepped back.  “I need to put Adelita away.”

Angelo managed to hide the pain from his face until she turned away to get the reins of her horse who had wandered a little away.  The sooner this axe was lifted off his family's neck the better.  Surely his father would see that.  He forced a neutral expression back onto his face as Miranda came riding back.

“How fast can you fly?” she asked with a calculating look in her eye.

Angelo felt some relief as he sensed that some game was about to be proposed by his capricious sister.  “I'll put it this way,” he said, “I signed out at the main gate of my post two hours ago.”

Miranda's eyes got big.  “Wow, that's a five hour drive,” she said in wonder.  Then she asked, “How fast can you run?”

Angelo scratched his head a little.  “Well,” he said, “faster than I used to be able to, but not so fast that I can do without a car for driving around town.”

“We'll race you back to the house,” she said, patting the alert-looking horse on the neck, “but no flying!” she added, shaking her finger at him for emphasis.

“Well, I guess...” he began.

“Okay,” she said.  “Ready...Set...”

“Wait!” he cried.

“GO!  HYAAA!”

“No fair!” he shouted after her as Adelita leapt forward down the hill, kicking up clods of dirt.  He had been in the middle of changing his eufiber from boots to running shoes.  When he had finished, he took off on a slightly different path.

Adelita was fast, but she needed relative smooth ground to take advantage of it, meaning they'd be arcing around the skirts of the hill down to the road in order to catch the bridges over gully and the canal.  Meanwhile he pelted up the hill with long, leaping strides and down its other side with three long bounds.

As the ground leveled out, he broke into a sprint for the gully straight ahead.  He was a little more than a third of the way across when he began to hear hoofbeats behind him.  A few seconds later he heard Miranda's shriek as she spotted him.  The gully was too wide here to leap all the way across so he aimed for the relatively flat bottom then sprang in two powerful leaps up the other side.  As he began the sprint for the canal, he checked over his shoulder.  Miranda was leaning far forward over Adelita's neck, shouting encouragement and grinning like a fool. Oddly, it looked like the horse was having just as much fun as her rider.

The canal was going to present a different challenge.  It was just as wide as the gulley, was full of water and had a barbed wire fence running along each side.  But he had a plan.  He kicked out his front leg and cleared the first fence like a hurdle.  When his feet came down, rather than plunging into the water, they landed on a small patch of force field and his momentum sent it planing across.  At the other bank, he dove over the other fence and shoulder-rolled to his feet.

Now it was down to about a quarter of a mile sprint.  He looked over to the road. There was Adelita, pretty far back, but gaining now that they were both on flat ground running the same direction.  Up ahead, he could see the hacienda; it was going to be close, but could see that he had just enough lead to win.  Thinking it over, though, he decided to give Miranda her moment of triumph and so eased up on his stride just a touch.

Despite all his combat experience, hearing a quarter horse thundering up behind him as he ran up the last stretch of the road to the gate was making the back of his neck prickle.  It was almost a relief when he felt them surge past him just before they crossed under the arch of the gate.

Miranda threw both hands in the air, crowing and laughing then falling over Adelita's neck, she hugged her enthusiastically.  Angelo trotted up to where Miranda was walking her horse to let her cool down.

“We won!” Miranda cried.

“Yes you did,” Angelo said, grinning.

“Wow, I thought we weren't gonna make it for a minute there, you got so far ahead. That was a really cool trick at the canal though.”

He followed her in a circle around the yard while she talked a mile-a-minute, nodding and smiling at the appropriate moments.  Finally he said, “Adelita, you are queen of the road,” and gave her a courtly bow.  “But,” he said, speaking to Miranda again, “I must go inside now and say hello to Mama or she'll never forgive me.”

As he squared his shoulders and headed for the house, the thought crossed his mind that he was about to go tell her that she was going to have to auction off the antique furniture and art she had so painstakingly collected in restoring the hacienda to its Colonial beauty.  The auction house (one of the most exclusive in California) has already been called and the appraisers will be here in the morning.  Once she understands that there is no other way, and no more time, she'll see that there is no other way to cover the past due payments AND replace the herd so that the rancho can start earning its keep again.  She'll understand alright, and she'll go along with it...but still may break her heart.

The scent of Gardenias was overwhelming.  It didn’t invoke the nausea that came from funeral mums, but her stomach still churned at the happy little bigots ran to and fro putting up last minute streamers and icing the punch.   Light pink and blue for the décor, it looked like an overly religious baby show rather than a wedding.   God help her if any half-sibling were on the way.

With all the last minute preparations it had been easy enough for Flare to sneak through the milling throng.   She was more known for her flames and spandex body suit than any physical traits, and with her powers stunted, she looked no different than any other attractive woman waiting for the wedding to start.  Well, she got a few raised eyebrows when she didn’t seem inclined to take off her rust colored trench coat, but screw them.  She’d wear what she wanted; after all, she wasn’t even invited.

Flare felt a twinge of guilt as a flower girl went running past.  Kelly…Crystal…she couldn’t remember, the child had only been three when Flare had last seen her.  She really hadn’t seen anyone but her uncle since the funeral.  Flare wondered who her mother had chosen to be her maid of honor.

The odd looks started increasing as people started to settle in.  Flare smiled like she recognized someone in the fourth row and made her way over to the Wildershit side.

The middle aged man she sat next to didn’t seem to think anything was amiss; he looked at her a few times, and finally smiled before turning to the front.  Flare understood.  The man recognized her, but assumed it was due to the family ties of the wedding, not because she was plastered across a few bill boards.  Hopefully it wouldn’t cause any problems.

Flare slumped a bit in her seat and waited for the insanity to begin, and end.

Suzukaze looks to Paul for any response. He doesn't answer though instead grabbing a nearby pen and paper. He begins to write down a detailed list. When he is done he reaches in his pocket and pulls out a credit card. He puts it on the paper and slides it over to her.

"Suzuka would you be a dear and get the things on this list for me. I obviously wasn't prepared, and would rather not take a risk going back to get anything. He smiles at her and holds her hand. "I'll be ok here with them right. They're your friends after all."

Nodding she takes the list and the card. "Sure. Then maybe we can spend some time catching up before I escort you to your next destination." She stands and bows. "If you'll excuse me. I'll be back as soon as I can." She then walks out the door pausing to look back quickly.

When she is gone he looks at both Impetus and Frostburn. He has a charismatic aura about him. "To be honest the thing I want most in this world just walked out this door. But she chose my best friend, and I couldn't separate them. Shiro was the only one for her. It doesn't matter if he was dead I couldn't take her from him. So I swore to protect her. She was so fragile when we found her. Just a girl who turned into a nova taking her grandfathers life upon eruption. The assassins just made her worse. Fire especially with what he tried to do.

Shiro actually wanted to try to put an end to the assassins. The three of us together. But she ran off and joined you. The boss wanted her dead. Shiro wanted to get her back on the team. Which would have been a possibility if Shiro didn't disappear at the hot springs. Then Fire was put in charge. It's a nightmare what it's become.

I'm glad to be gone. But like her I'll be hunted. It will be difficult without me, but they find someone and they'll come eventually. It would be best if things worked out and I could be on the team. To my understanding you are lacking someone with my abilities. I know I can be of use and I'd feel better if I had friends at my side. I heard what you said about Suzuka not being a part of the team. I don't know the details, but if I am accepted into Utopia I'd like to be together with her. Our friendship actually makes us a strong combination. I also think it would be best if we were together in case the assassins come for us. Besides I heard the rumors of her, and I think I could be a big help in keeping her inline.

Gale tried to show up late.  She didn't want to be there before anyone else, and perhaps she would be less noticeable if more of the guests were already there.  Of course, that thought was silly.  Nobody was going to miss a woman with wings and bright blue hair.  She was dressed in her usual suit; she didn't want to look like a slob.  This would be the first time she had seen her father since she was 16.

How had she gotten here?  Jimmy had somehow talked her into it.  But the longer she was here, the more nervous and apprehensive she was.  He had come with her, and his face seemed to reflect how she felt.  Perhaps he felt the same?  Perhaps he felt guilty for asking her to tag along with him.  As they entered the church, she hung back, trying to find a dark corner to hide in.  Jimmy paused in the aisle, but Gale shook her head.  She wasn't going to cause anymore ruckus than she had to.

Leaning against the back wall, she crossed her arms.  Ah, there were the whispers as people tried to discreetly (and not-so-discreetly) glance her.  "What is she doing here?"  "Of all the nerve..." "Nova scum..." She couldn't actually hear them, but that's what she assumed they were saying.  These were mainly Michaelists after all.

Struggling in the way only drowning men did, Quentin began his 'round-the-clock work to find a cure. One eye was being constantly fed information by a head-mounted holographic projector - data on chemicals, updated data from the various subjects of his inquiry (including himself), every official report he could find regarding the attack, every unofficial document he could dig up about the attack, data on nova sterility (which may or may not even be linked), constant analysis of samples he'd taken from anyone that would give one, whether it be blood, tissue, or something more exotic. All this he fed into one eye just so that his brain would absorb it, integrate it, and help complete a picture of what was going on.

Meanwhile he conducted experiments on tissue samples, crunched through probability analysis, mixed chemicals, and did whatever else he deemed necessary to further his research into the topic. Every 12 hours he put himself through a battery of tests to gauge the decline of his own powers - both to clear up exactly what they could expect as far as the progression of the condition went and to give himself an idea of how much time he had left to find a cure.

He wrestled with the possibility that there might not be a cure. He remembered life before he'd erupted and often wondered how he'd managed without his quantum gifts. They made they mundane easy, and the impossible possible. He never wanted to go back.

But there it was. He was already on his way back. He had a pretty good idea of what most of his peers could expect from the disease. What he could not entirely predict were the differences he, Solitare, and Impetus would suffer through. They'd been through chrysalis - an intensely personal and nearly spiritual change intended to focus their own personal evolution. It made their powers more a part of who they were, tightly integrated with both their identities and their bodies. He could predict a number of possible symptoms, but none of them had particularly high confidence levels. Certainly the most probable effect was something akin to an identity crisis mixed with a crisis of faith.

It made him question, as he worked, who he had become. Was his (perhaps reckless) embrace of his transhuman nature wise? Was it even safe? (He thought probably so, given what he'd learned of Divis Mal since meeting the man.) Was it in his own best interest? He believed so, on all counts. Given his current declining power, he certainly hoped so.

Periodically he began to suffer migraines similar to the one he'd experienced upon his eruption. Similarly, his cybernetic and natural limbs began to spasm unpredictably as his enhanced physiology began to lose its ability to protect the rest of his brain from the highly developed node within it. The end of each of these episodes saw Quentin surge back into activity, renewing determination even as he suffered setbacks.

If there was a cure, he would find it. If there wasn't one, he would make one. There were no other options. The alternatives were unthinkable.

Guests were greeted by the smell of gardenias, the flash of a few too many cameras, two national news crews, and a plethora of guests from both the families of the happy couple and from the michaelist establishment.  A great deal of excitement over a recovered alcoholic and the widow of a cop killed by nova drug cartels.  But the church had contributed large sums to the event, and the news crew had somehow gotten wind that the happy bride and groom were parents of some of the world's most famous novas, and a speech addressing nova issues from the perspective of nova parents was expected.

The ceremony itself was beautiful, in an overdone sort of way.  The religious portion was a bit long, but that was expected of a michaelist ceremony after all.  All in all, it was a fairly mundane, though expensive, affair... right up until the bride and groom spoke to the crowd.

tap tap tap.  "Is this on?  Hmm, guess so, sorry about that..."  The groom awkwardly took the microphone in his hand, and smiled at the crowd.  "First, we want to thank the church for helping us find one another, and celebrate our, uh, union.  And we want to thank all our friends and family for attending.  But most importantly, we want to dedicate this ceremony to our children, and urge them to join us in our new life with each other, and with the church."  A pause to look thoughtful, then the microphone passes to the blushing bride.

"We miss our children, and we love them.  Our normal children, and our others... It isn't their fault that satan touched them, and they can make the choice to turn their backs on his gifts.  The church even has training programs that teach those touched by satan's hand to push his dark gifts out, letting a person return to their normal, godly self.  I... I couldn't get in touch with my daughter, but wherever she is I hope she listens to me, and accepts Jesus back into her heart.  But my husband, well, he sent his own son into the lions den, where he could convince his big sister to return to the fold.  She's here with us today... Honey, your father has something to say to you."  A handkerchief dabs at crocodile tears as the microphone passes back to the groom.  Jimmy gazes at the floor intently, avoiding the scrutiny of the cameras, and any look of betrayal from his sister.

"Honey, I miss you so much, and I'm so glad you could be here today.  I'm sorry for all the things that've gone between us, and I hope you'll find it in your heart to accept Jesus today and come join in our life with us.  What do you say?"  Earnest look, at the cameras, then toward Gale.  The cameras panning toward her, the expectant look on the faces of the bride and groom, the hush of the chapel... They were all waiting for her reply.

Gale blinked in surprise.  This really had blind-sided her.  Sure, nobody would miss her, what with her wings and hair, but to be put in the spotlight with cameras on her...was not what she expected.  In fact, the more she thought about it, there shouldn't be this many cameras here except for the fact that she was here.  At that point, her training with Utopia kicked in, and she regained her composure.

"Into the lion's den?" she asked pointedly, casting a glance at Jimmy.  Had it all been a lie?  Perhaps not all, she had reconnected with her mom, after all.  But this...this was a farce.  Her nose wrinkled slightly as she tried to control the emotions inside her.  "As I recall, you, Father, decided you wanted nothing to do with me when I erupted.  You cast a 16-year-old girl out on her own, frightened and without the support of her family.  And now, now that I'm 'touched by Satan', you suddenly want me back?"  It made no sense with the Michaelist rhetoric.

"I came here to support Jimmy.  I wouldn't have come if he hadn't asked, respecting the promise you forced me to make years ago."  She could feel her brow furrowing; she was becoming angry, years of pent up pain just about to burst.  She pointed to her wings with her clawed hands.  "These...do not go away.  They will not go away because you wish them to.  I've accepted who I am.  I am a nova.  I found a new family when you wouldn't have me, a family that loved me and accepted me AS. I. WAS.  And if you really loved me as you say you do, you'd accept that too.  You'd ask me back without asking me to join a church that says I'm evil.  You'd be a true father, instead of pretending to be one."

With that, she turned and left, doing her best to block any further shots from the cameras with her wings.  She had always hoped for a reunion with her family, but not like this.  This was a lie, a publicity stunt.  So far removed from a real loving family would do, it was unbelievable.  She needed to get out of here.  It was not only a publicity nightmare, but a toxic environment to remain in for much longer.

Flare wasn’t what one would call forgiving under the best of circumstances.  She was torn between screaming ‘mommy’ and running up to embarrass and shame the woman, and torching the place.

She didn’t get the opportunity as Gale spoke up.

The fire-user was floored.  She still had a bitch of a mother, and new Michaelist pricks to deal with, but she also had a sister.   As Gale got to her aisle, Flare stood up and caught her around the arm.

She met Gale’s eyes, but didn’t attempt to stop her from leaving aside from this brief pause.

Now, up until a few months ago and extensive media training, Flare would have torched the place.  It was gaudy, fake, and full of false emotions.  The Michaelist equivalent of a strip club.  Now, she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of showing a Nova on the rampage.  Unless they pushed her.

She started slowly walking to the stage, her eyes only for her mother, and her.  “You disgust me.  You are no better than any other racists though out time.  Those who are different are ‘evil’ or ‘cursed’.  Would you exorcize the Nova out of me, Mother?” She actually winked at the crowd and the cameras, a gesture completely out of place with her tirade, a breaking of the fourth wall to include the viewers at home to hopefully turn this revival into a farce. “I’d say you could burn the devil out of me, but I’m pretty sure you know that won’t work.”

She turns to the groom…Gale’s father… “So, dad, I’m so glad you were able to make that heartfelt speech to our little Gale.  Way to make her feel welcomed back, abomination that she is.  It’s like she said though, she has a family now, and we don’t need her to conform to be one of us.”
 

Gale paused her retreat when someone grabbed her arm, planning only to give them a glance before continuing on.  But it was Flare!  What was Flare doing here?  Hurt confusion crossed her face.  Had she been followed?  Had the team discovered the secret she'd worked so hard to keep over the years?  Realization dawned when she recalled what the bride had said.  Flare was the other nova child!  Of course!

That Flare had come surprised her.  It didn't appear the fire-user had any relatives who had coerced her here.  Gale paused in the middle of the aisle to watch and listen as Flare approached the couple.  She wanted to hear what her fellow nova had to say.  Then they could leave.  As sisters.

Flare allowed a smirk to eat across her face as she faced the camera.  Her shark's-tooth grin gave the reports a new headline. She tried to keep the heat from lancing out, but failed.

“We are no different than baselines, and the idea of demonizing people, who come from the same towns, went to the same schools, and” she gestures to her own family as she chokes up, “grew up in the same house as you.”  She swipes a hand across her eyes as cameras flash.  “You don’t have to love me, or even like me, but stop pretending that it’s because of MY nature.  The problem is all you, you bastards.”  With a bolstering breath, Flare jumped off the stage, She took Gales' arm as she passed, trying to lead her new sister away from this circus.

The crowd stayed well away from the two unexpected nova guests as they moved down the aisle.  The heat that Flare radiated unconsciously in response to her anger helped keep people at arms distance, but they likely would have stayed away from the "satan-touched" novas regardless.

For a few seconds, the happy new couple were shocked into silence by Flare and Gale.  Likely they hadn't expected both of them to be there.  Perhaps there was even a bit of parental guilt as well.  But they recovered quickly.  "Don't leave children, don't turn your back on God!  He loves you!  Jesus saves!  We can be together again!"  The two of them continued to spout platitudes and Michaelist propaganda as the two women walked away, though they made no effort to chase after them.

For a moment it seemed that they would escape the scene with nothing worse than a few unpleasant pictures in the tabloids, but that hope was cut short as a boy screamed in pain nearby.  The child, a boy of perhaps 10, crumpled to the floor screaming "It burns, it BURNS daddy!  Mommy, daddy, stop the burning!!!"  The heat radiating off of Flare wasn't hot enough to burn, it was uncomfortable at best, and the child was a foot away.  Psychosomatic response from fear of the devil-tainted novas?  Some sort of strange medical condition? Or perhaps impressive acting, paid for with Michaelist money?  The reason was irrelevant at this point, as it pushed the crowd into a screaming frenzy.  "The monsters are killing the children!"  "Stop them!"  "Shoot them before the boy dies!" "Demons!"

Well armed security guards, too well armed for this sort of event, aimed assault rifles at the novas and fired.  The bullets wouldn't normally pierce the eufiber suits that nearly every member of T2M wore on and off duty, but they were heavy rounds designed to penetrate armor.  And with powers already weakened, nova skin wasn't enough protection.  A single bullet grazed Gale's side, leaving a painful gash that despite the abundance of blood was only a minor wound.  Flare's injuries were more extensive however.  A bullet penetrated her shoulder and lodged shallowly underneath her right clavicle, while another penetrated her hip and was stopped by the quantum reinforced bone of her pelvis.

The guards continued to advance, but stopped firing when they saw blood, shocked looks on their faces.  Apparently, none of them had expected to do any real damage.  They continued to hold their fire as they maintained a safe distance, likely to avoid hitting any of the crowd.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god…”  Someone kept repeating that phrase amidst the chaos as pain exploded through Flare’s body.  She realized it was her.

“Gale…Gale” Flare couldn’t see beyond the men with the guns, and the wedding guests, to find her sister.  She was surrounded by monsters, and too weak to fight them.

She began crawling, the cameras snapping like gun fire as she slipped in her own blood; distantly she realized she must have hit the ground when she was shot.

The cameras got coverage that would likely insight debate and uproar, a nova laid low, crawling due to normal human bullets.   Seeping normal human blood and weeping normal human tears, despite her best efforts.

“Gale!”  Where was she?  Gale had been right next to her, she couldn’t be dead.  Flare wouldn’t believe it!

Finally a few people moved to the side and Flare could finally see her sister’s wings.  She was alive, and looked to be standing!  “Gale! Over here-oomph…”

Her injured shoulder couldn’t support her weight any longer and Flare collapsed on her side.  Over the buzzing in her ears she could make out the sounds of chaos.

Her throat closed with unfamiliar pain and she choked on her own tears as the cameras kept rolling.

“Gale…” and quietly, unable to help herself, “Dillon…”

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
There we go! I finally get back to posting with Flare as a pathetic victim!

---

Gale's hand went to her side where she was struck and came back covered in blood.  Well, that was a little surprising.  To be able to do that, they had to be using powerful ammunition.  It was bad enough they had been lured out here, been proselytized against, and now they had been fired upon for no reason?  She was about to make some comment when she saw Flare fall next to her.

"Flare?  Flare!"  The winged woman hurried to her friend's aid, pulling her off the ground into her arms.  Her clawed hands threatened to dig into Flare's skin, but she did her best to control her fury, trying to hold her sister gingerly in her arms.  This was bad.  Flare needed a hospital.  She turned to look directly at the gunmen, eyes full of fierce anger.  "Now you've gone too far.  Get out of my way."  A wind kicked up around her, rustling her feathers and throwing her hair around.

She took a step forward, daring the guards to fire again.  "Get. out. of my. way."  If she had to, she would summon her wind shield and fly out of here.  She probably had just enough juice to do it.

The crowd parted, intimidated by the show of quantum power and the storm raging in Gale's eyes.  The guards were reticent to move, fear of novas warring with elation at their surprising success.  The boy continued to scream, as did the rest of the crowd, when a new voice suddenly boomed out over the crowd via the speakers.

"Let them leave!  The law will judge them, and god, but we cannot risk them hurting the crowd in their hateful attempts to harm us!  Go you ungrateful children, you were welcomed back to your parents with open arms, but you spurned them.  So GO!  Be gone from here Satan's minions, GO!"

The minister's lines were likely scripted, but they had the desired effect.  The guards parted, some wearing a look of relief, others disappointed that they wouldn't get to kill a nova for the lord.

Flare leaned against Gale, trying to not let the words of the pastor bother her.  It probably showed on her face though.

“Ignore them, Gale,”  Flare murmured, leaning against her winged friend for support, “They’re…they’re just not worth listening to.”

Flare tried to stay upright, to stay proud, but the weight of words like ‘demon’ and ‘monster’ lay much heavily on her now that she was nearly powerless.  It had been much easier when she could just fly away laughing.

Slowly, pathetically slowly, she made her way out of the tent.  Flare was torn.  She didn’t want to hurt people, even after being shot, but damnit, she was a nova!  She couldn’t just take this lying down could she?

“What do we do Gale?  I want to destroy them all.  I know there’d be hell to pay afterwards, but I hate them.” Weakened as she was, Flare couldn’t help but let whisper a truth she’d tried to deny. “I hate baselines. All of them.  All they do is hate, and kill, and maim.”  A tear escaped as she called a small fire into her hands, “I want to maim right back.”  She looked into Gales eyes, “Should we?”

She trusted Gale more than she trusted herself at this moment.  She wanted to kill them, and equally wanted to leave.

Gale was surprised at Flare’s admission.  More importantly, she was surprised that her first instinct wasn’t revulsion, but agreement.  Certainly in her experience, baselines had continually mistreated her, including her own family.  She’d fought for them, survived a nuke for them, and what did they do now?  Still treated her as if she was the monster.  All based on little more than her appearance.

She wanted to yell at them, to tell them what horrible parents they were to treat their own flesh and blood like this.  She wanted to shake them, to smack the crowd down with their own hate filled rhetoric.  She wanted to cry, to let out all the pain that she’d stuffed down in their name.  She wanted to follow Flare’s cue and destroy them all.  Unfortunately, (or perhaps, fortunately) the roiling stew of emotions and thoughts prevented her from choosing just one.  Flare was seriously hurt, and for that, she at least knew what she should do.  ”No, let’s get out of here.”  The winged woman tucked an arm under Flare’s knees, the other catching her just under the arms as she lifted her sister from the ground.

She turned to cast one last look at the crowd.  Her eyes caught Jimmy’s, and they narrowed, still burning with hurt and anger.  His betrayal cut the deepest.  Turning back to the exit, she extended her wings and leapt into the air, adding a downdraft that would knock most of the nearby crowd from their feet.  It was a petty gesture, but in some sense, it made her feel a little better.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
This takes place roughly 1 month before [Story Arc #6]  New Beginnings.  Please, PLEASE include the title of the vignette you are replying to at the top of your post.  Makes it easier to track.  Thank you, and enjoy.

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Debts Paid
Lunch was a questionably pleasant affair, reminding Dillon of simpler times, and Gale of life’s bittersweet vicissitudes.  Thorn, the team leader of T2M:E, chose the Café Bellagio.  After spending a rare night off with Gale, he wanted to see the former leader of T2M:A the next day before heading back to Europe.  Thorn had left nearly an hour ago, but the two lingered, each lost in their own thoughts.

Only a few tables over, a young girl, perhaps 16, dined alone.  She had an uncanny charm and innocence about her; an experienced eye could easily mark her as a nova.  The wait staff treated her kindly, but she was clearly uncomfortable and out of her element.  She was even more uncomfortable when the restaurant refused to take her card, or rather the card of the famous nova singer Serenade.  No, the girl couldn’t possibly know her, and no, the hotel did NOT allow people to use cards that did not belong to them.  The staff, charmed by young Daphne, were loathe to harass her… but there was a bill that needed paying, and Daphne had nothing but the card Laura had left her with.

---

Thieves in the Night
The Triads were active, very active.  They controlled half of Asia at this point, but they were smarter than the Columbian cartels were.  Acting from the shadows, they smuggled illicit goods and services across the continent and beyond.  That was why they were here, in fact.  The warehouse, a seedy sometimes-club in Hong Kong’s shipping district was a key location for Triad activity, and tonight played host to an out of town smuggler in their service.  What he was smuggling was valuable, and no one outside the Triads wanted them to have it.

Suzukaze, El Dragon, and Operator were exactly the right people for this mission.  Sent by Comstock to investigate, and obtain whatever was being transported.  Suzukaze had the added lure of finding information on her family, while Operator was on retainer.  Dragon, always a sucker for the right cause, was just here to prevent bad people from doing the things bad people do.  The three were situated on a nearby rooftop, formulating their approach.

---

Captive Audience
Fundraisers were such boring affairs.  Rich people with money, being bribed to give that money to other rich people.  Still, it was what one did to become president.  Impetus watched the scene as one of the young novas he was grooming began to sing.  Serenade really did have a lovely voice.   The event was televised, a little concert by the world’s hottest novox artist to stir the opnet and draw attention to imp’s campaign.  Flare was in the audience, or was up until she went to the restroom to get away from the creepy old rich man that kept trying to engage her in conversation.

Herr Forester, the Hell Kraken, stood in the corner.  He was a monolith of industry that was larger, both literally and metaphorically, than the other attendees at the relatively small dinner.  It was meant as an intimate event, set in a pleasant Colorado ski retreat, but untimely weather had caused many cancelations.  Attendees seemed happy, but the Hell Kraken was beginning to wonder why he chose to attend this event, as opposed to next month’s Boston meeting.  Then the entertainment arrived.

The unmistakable sound of automatic weapons fire sounded, signaling that someone at least had managed to penetrate the snow to arrive at the dinner.  Unfortunately the new attendees were not on the guest list.  Armed Michaelists came through the door, a chained,  burning nova man lending his power to their cause.  At the sight of Impetus, two men pulled out handguns and shot themselves out of guilt at opposing him; sometimes the drugs were less effective than others.  The rest fanned out across the room in what was apparently going to be a hostage situation.

---

Chance Meetings
Johnny and Sean stumbled down the alley, leaving the Archon by the back exit.  If asked, they probably wouldn’t be able to explain why they kept coming back together every month; their mutual bravado brought them into constant conflict, but somehow partying in Vegas was less fun separately.  As they loudly debated the merits of nova lass they both had failed to win over earlier in the evening, they literally ran into a blue giant.  They turned a corner, and the nearly 7’ tall blue-tinged man was standing there, leaning against the brick.

Joe had come to the Archon at Terri’s urging.  The woman wanted to see the Archon.  Party with novas, get another thrill.  Joe though, he tired of the starlets and the would-be godlings quickly.  Stepping into the night for some air, he found he just couldn’t get away.  Two more of the abrasive young novas stumbled into him.

Before either party could act, however, a young girl ran by.  All paused to watch the incongruous sight.  She was familiar to everyone for no readily identifiable reason, especially Joe, who felt a dreamlike sense of déjà vu at seeing her.  Seconds passed as the three turned to look at one another, the same confusion painted on each of their faces.  Then, a group of hardened men, all clearly elites or privately employed novas ran by.  They were chasing her.  4 experienced men with quantum powers chasing a young girl… That couldn't have a happy ending.

---

Strained Relationships
Solitaire and Gravitas strode confidently into the St. Petersburg club.  Zmei never advertised, only word of mouth attracted new guests.  The current patrons were a rough crowd comprised entirely of novas.  Elites with (more) violent leanings, nova (and other) supremacists, and of course the Dominion terats that ran the place and used it as a recruiting station.  It wasn’t a place that the ex-Utopians normally frequented, but there was rumor of a planned attack on “something big” running through the Teragen grapevine, and that was bad for everyone.  Someone needed to talk sense into Shrapnel before things went too far.  They were quite surprised to see Phantasm there, talking to a stunning nova woman as she drank at the bar, when they walked in.  Months missing, and they found her here of all places.

Phantasm was having a conversation with a new terat, someone calling herself Baroness, who was trying to find her place in the movement while trying to look like she knew exactly where she belonged.   She was mostly succeeding.  Phantasm caught site of her friends as the crowd parted for them, torn between animosity and grudging awe.  Baroness realized that two of the Teragens brightest stars were in attendance, a rare opportunity to make important contacts in the movement.  A death metal novox band screamed in the background as the crowd waited to see why the two Pantheon members were there.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:41, Wed 18 Sept 2013.

Clad in his characteristic dragon armor, Dragón scanned the area, picking out the elements of the security situation, and then set about picking it apart, tactically.  He worked to take into account the strengths of his two companions.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
23:02, Tue 17 Sept 2013: El Dragon rolled 2 successes using 4d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 ((8,9,3,1)) Tactical Prodigy.
23:04, Tue 17 Sept 2013: El Dragon rolled 3 successes using 14d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 ((1,7,9,4,2,4,1,3,6,8, 4,4,3,6)) Tactics.
[ahem]

---

"So," he said quietly, "how do we want to do this?  Hit them while they're all inside, or pick off the smuggler on his own?"

Daphne sat quietly, looking sullen and confused. She had only come down to the restaurant to meet with one of Laura's manager's friends who specialized in helping train new nova in how to deal with their powers. The meeting went about as well as Daphne had expected, which was to say poorly. She felt uncomfortable with almost everyone. Laura had been the only person so far to make her not want to crawl into a hole. He had to leave in a hurry and Daphne offered to pay for the meal. Not knowing that the restaurant would be so unwilling to believe her about Laura being her friend.

Daphne didn't notice the restaurant's manager walk up to her until he spoke. "Excuse me ma'am. I really am sorry to do this, but you need to pay the bill. If you are unable to do so I will be forced to call the police and they will handle this situation."

Daphne jumped a little in her seat when she heard the manager speak. She had still not gotten used to being slightly deaf.

"Look, I have told your staff several times the card I gave you and now you refuse to give me back is in fact Laura Manning's, Serenade. She did give it to me and if you would either call her or her manager, Jessica Schimmels, at the number i told you this could be cleared up. For heaven's sake I didn't even eat or drink anything, Mr. Hinsen ate and had to leave quickly. Do you think we're some pair of bad con artists?"

Daphne slammed her hand down on the table. I wish I had just taken that damn cell phone Laura offered as well. Then I could get a hold of her. Why do these idiots think I am some kind of thief. I just want to be done with this.

The manager blinked and stood his ground. He was used to "friends" of novas and stars coming in and trying these type of things. Though usually it was a promise that said person would pay their tab as soon as possible. With a straight face and a calm voice the manager responded.

"As I am certain that my staff has told you, it is the restaurant's policy not to accept cards except from the people whose name is on them. Especially if the card is for someone as high profile as Serenade, who you obviously are not friends with. I too can name drop with a little research. I am going to go call the cops now, you have until they arrive to figure out how you are going to pay or you can deal with them."

The manager turned around and walked towards the back.

Daphne slammed her hand down on the table again. She considered throwing something at the manager for a second, but realized that making a scene and being arrested for assault were likely to make this even more difficult.

Solitaire smiled and waved at the few friendly faces she saw in the crowd, not that most here looked exactly unfriendly but... They weren't her people in more than the broadest sense of the term. Still, she moved through the room with her usual grace, completely at ease in the midst of this most dangerous of crowds. After all, she knew she was more dangerous than any of them. Still, she was here for a reason, and that was to get a drink, then to have a chat with Shrapnel, but drinks first.

"Two Manhattan Projects if you please, you want anything Grav?" She said upon reaching the bar. The bartender visibly flinched at the order, then steeled himself and reached under the bar for a pair of very thick gloves and what looked like a pair of blacksmiths tongs. The gruff and scarred Elite on the seat next to her decided that he very much wanted a table instead. Solitaire turned away and grinned at Phantasm a few seats down the bar. "Heya Phantasm. Welcome back to the land of the living. Have a good vacation?" Behind her, the bartender struggles with a glowing, violently red liquid, a few drops splatter onto the bar surface and immediately begin to dissolve it.
This message was last updated by the player at 05:01, Wed 18 Sept 2013.

The commotion drew Dillon's attention.  He welcomed the distraction, as he did not yet know what to make of Thorn.  For the sake of Gale, he hoped never to have to fight the man.

"Gale, calm the crowd if things get any weirder, okay?"  His clothes made for a fairly decent disguise -- sunglasses, jeans, t-shirt -- but he knew that there were a few people who probably recognized him anyway.  Best to keep this quick and quell any disorder.  He wiped his hands and wandered over to the other table, expecting Gale to follow close behind.

"They won't take American Express here," Dillon supplied helpfully.  He stared at Daphne for a moment, then pulled a chair away from the table and sat down.  "And nova hoodlums in Las Vegas draw out the Special Unit and its KHI drones.  No sense banging on the table."  For emphasis, he touched one of the forks on the table and asked it to curl up into a new shape.  It chose the shape of a small metal horse.  "I'm Dillon.  That's Gale."  He wasn't exactly being friendly, but he wasn't being unfriendly either.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:45, Wed 18 Sept 2013.

Gravitas, meanwhile, did not emote at any of the residents of the club. He scarcely even acknowledged their existence. Nonetheless, he noted Phantasm's presence as they approached and the individual she was speaking with, whom he did not immediately recognize. Possibilities for who she might be raced through his mind, but he set them aside - if it was relevant, he was sure he'd find out sooner or later.

When Solitaire ordered her pair of drink, Gravitas's expression finally changed - into a frown. "My encounters with nuclear weapons have been less than pleasant," he cybernetic fingers wiggled at his side, "I think I'll avoid any substances named after the project that spawned them. Besides, I gave up drinking a long time ago. There doesn't seem to be a point anymore." Not to mention that he wasn't sure his body was actually able to withstand the chemicals that went into the 'drink', despite his enhanced physiology. He was tough because of his powers and the shielding he'd learned to generate with them, not because his physical body was invulnerable, as Solitaire's was.

"I'm amazed any nova with enhanced senses can stand to be within a mile of this place," he said, wincing as the pitch of the music climbed. A mental projection indicated that there was likely to be an ultrasonic verse coming up soon. He wondered if the proprietors specifically chose their glassware to withstand the vibrations. "This band's volume is only trumped by how terrible they are. They wouldn't know a harmony if it broke down their door and beat them with their own instruments." He waved at Phantasm as Solitaire addressed her; he silently wished his power set included the ability to nullify mechanical vibrations.

Baroness kept tight control over her features while she listened to Phantasm. She kept the edge of her lips resting at a smile--not too eager but certainly not bored. Her finger toyed with the rim of her martini glass filled with a vodka that implied class without being showy. Her body tilted slightly against the bar--relaxed while presenting a respect to her first real contact from Teragen. All of her features worked in harmony to appear as if she entirely understood everything Phantasm was saying--even if she was missing every other word under the music. Of course, she didn't think about any of these subtitles anymore. They were as natural as breathing.

She found it all a little easier with the seemingly young woman though. She rather enjoyed Phantasm's confidence and her youthful qualities were a relief for a woman who had spent a good amount of her time dealing in corporate intrigue. She had a nagging suspicion that it was more than just personal opinion making her feel those things---but sometimes it was nice to be fooled. Or at least fantasize over what that felt like again.

She could sense the shuddering shift in the room long before she saw Solitaire and Gravitas. She knew power when she saw it and she could practically smell it wafting off the two and over the crowd. She didn't let her gaze linger for longer than a fraction of a second before putting her focus back to Phantasm. There was only the smallest shift in her posture, becoming more formal and reverential, to indicate she had taken notice. She was betting on even that being noticed by the group. She sat quietly behind her face as the three caught up, knowing it would be no good to try and shove her way into the center of attention even if it was her natural inclination.

The hiss and pop of the red "drink" splatter seemed to catch the attention of her homunculus that had been resting at her feet. It quickly scampered, all awkward limbs and high-pitched garbles, up to the bar top. She reached out, letting out a soft tut and, "Now-Now, off the table." She scooped the hideous thing up and set it in her lap, petting it until it stopped its squirming and grasping at the spots of acid until it curled up in her lap like a grotesque pet. She looked back to the group with a smile that was equal parts apology and love for her little beast.

Impetus was enjoying the music, and the conversation he was having with a bright young nova named Elon Musk.  The man had been brilliant before he erupted, but after his eruption at a sales pitch for his latest project, he had become even more impressive.  The sound of gunfire outside and the intrusion of the Michaelites was unfortunate, but not unexpected.  This would add to the growing arsenal his team of novas, hired from Anna, of course, would use to dismantle the Church, or to get it taken off the list of accepted religious organizations.  His own machinations to get them branded a terrorist organization would certainly benefit as well.  As the gunmen were still moving through the doors he was in motion, glowing with power, radiating majesty, and telekinetically ripping guns out of the men's hands.  " Serenade, get down!" Regardless of what drugs the men might have taken, he drew every eye in the room.  With their attention focused on him, Kraken, or flare  would be free to incapacitate the chained nova.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:21, Wed 18 Sept 2013.

" An' Ah'm telli you, boyo, that that toothsome lil' cutlet was totally inna me until ye' tried t' get her t't drink tha 3 Mile, ye cock blocked me good an true." His tirade ended abruptly as he bounced off the blue wall, "Jaysus onna pogo stick, 's th' sneaky blue giant, why ya here, impersonating a wall fer, bay?" He burbled.
He sobered remarkably quickly as he saw the young lady running from the thugs. "No time fer tha' now, Babe, " he waved a hand at Joe, before the giant could respond, " There's a damsel in distress, bays! Time fer some derrin do! Paidrag's happy/confrontational party vibe had switched to full on belligerence.  " Oy, cock smokers! Th' young lady's under our protection!" he waved a hand at Johnny and the blue giant, " Y'want a piece of her, you're gonna have t' go though us!" As he spoke his skin and clothes rippled, flesh and fabric submerging and shining black metal and chrome emerging.  As he shifted he grew larger, until he stood head and shoulders above Joe.  Massive black armored panels covered his form, and the pistons and bundles of hydraulics that made up his muscles bulged ominously.  In a voice eerily reminiscent of Optimus Prime he boomed, "YE REALLY ITCHIN T' DO THIS, LADS?"

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
successes from shapeshift spent on: growth (1 sux), armor (3 sux) M. Dex (1 sux). 3 sux on density control.  stats: M. Str 5, M Dex 2, +9 l/b soak.

---

This message was last edited by the GM at 19:29, Wed 18 Sept 2013.

Half-lidded and irritated, that just about summed up... well, everywhere. At least in the ocean very few people wanted to talk to you, or touch you, or be near you. This was a terrible idea, and after an hour of staring at bottles of liquor that he could no longer adequately drown himself in he'd ducked out, only maintaining the weakest of links with Terri, listening to the low-key buzz of her unique blend of body pathogens fighting with whatever she was imbibing.

He broke it off when his refuge was intruded upon and again, another casual query to the microsphere to look for the telltale conversations of Eufiber and the exotic cellular structures of Novas. Then the brash Irishman included him in his pronouncement.

He opened his hands and shrugged in an incongruous, curiously boneless gesture of peace. He tried diplomacy, something a twenty six year old him would have sneered at; but with age came patience and caution.

"I'm not here to fight anyone. If everyone would stop for a moment, perhaps we can resolve this?"

Operator surveyed the warehouse carefully, clad in simple black, with precious little equipment save a few name tags, a black marker, and some note cards.

"I'm tempted to try the infiltration route. Get them to sell the item to us. Or hand it off to us for transport. Make them do the heavy lifting. I have the feeling though, that with all the unknowns at play here, we'd run a real chance of just getting stuck in a crossfire. All things said and done, I'm more comfortable with an infilitration approach, which I can help with. From what I saw of you on Europa, I'm sure you can handle the thugs. It's the nova presence I'm worried about. Any ideas about what's inside? Kaze, you have any insight to add?"

Daphne was trying to compose herself as the two strangers walked up to her. Yet again being caught slightly unaware, Daphne jumps in her seat as Dillon speaks to her.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed your lunch, sir." Daphne looked down at the table for a moment before looking up to get a good look at her new guests. "It wasn't really my intention to disturb others, it has just been a bad few months and..."

Daphne's words trail off as she gets a good look at Gale. She stares at Gale with her mouth slightly open for an almost uncomfortable amount of time before she catches herself. "Uhhh... sorry, I am not used to meeting novas. Especially ones so... Sorry where are my manners, my name is Daphne. I'm new around here and haven't really met many people or managed to do much more than make a mess of things. It really seems to be my talent right now." Daphne gives a slightly nervous laugh and smiles in a vague attempt to defuse the situation a little.

One would think men would be intimidated by a Nova who tended to light things and people on fire when she was irritated, but not so for Captain Creepo.

And then, of course, things really went to hell.  She stored the cute emerald clutch that matched her slinky dress in a potted plant.  It was so hard to keep accessories during fights.

"I swear to God, I can't even go to the bathroom without Michaelist cockroaches crawling all over the place."

With Imp providing a strong distraction, Flare kicked off her three inch heels and began maneuvering through the room, under a table and around a large man who was beginning to hyperventilate.  If she could stay out of the main rush (and if that burning Nova was actually using fire rather than plasma or something) she should be able to negate his powers. Once that was handled, beatings could commence.

---

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

14:49, Today: Flare rolled 5 successes using 12d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 with rolls of 6,5,1,7,3,10,3,7,3,7,8,2. Being sneaky, charlie. (6 with that 10)

 14:51, Today: Flare rolled 5 successes using 10d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 with rolls of 8,5,1,1,4,10,10,8,7,6. EM using excitation to cool the nova. (7 with 10's) Not sure this will quite do what I want, but I'm trying to put him out, basically, maybe a contested roll to repress his powers if he is using fire.  Will do diddly if it is another burny thing)

---

Phantasm smiled at Baroness's little monster, and at her manipulative ploys. A woman after her own heart perhaps, though given her concern with the trappings of social power, perhaps not.  Still, the creature was cute... Unlike the large terat between her and the empty seats her friends were occupying.  Phantasm's smile disappeared.  Solitaire had moved one, but this last was too obstinate, or perhaps too stupid, to move.

A wide gesture, pointing away from the bar and impossible for the big nova to miss. "Leave.  I don't want you there."  The man thought he was dangerous, gave his best "make me" look, and made the mistake of meeting Phantasm's eyes.  There were dreams there, of his boyhood, of happy times, innocent fantasies.  He was lost in that gaze until he saw Phantasm suddenly shift for an instant, the haze of fantasy stripped away to reveal something terrible, anathema to all that was normal and right and wholesome.  The vision in her eyes changed as well, to the hours he spent in the closet, hiding from his step-father's metal-studded belt. "Leave.  Or I will rip out your eyes."  Then she smiled again, waiving at her friends, the vision of terror a moments fancy, a fleeting hallucination.  He ran.

Sliding down the bar to the vacated seat, Phantasm replied to Solitaire.  "Hmm.  Yeah, I think so.  Exercised some demons, did a bit of thinking, learned a few new tricks.  Food was good too.  I don't have to eat, but sometimes it's nice...  Oh, my new friend here calls herself Baroness, she's apparently a Terat, might be you could point her in the right direction?"  Phantasm looked at Baroness, a raised eyebrow and smile implied a cordial "you're welcome, now step up" and predatory "you owe me" simultaneously.  "Grav, the music isn't bad if you block out the upper octaves completely and then block out the lead singer.  It helps a lot, and the beat is fairly good, kind of a tribal thing going." 

She was getting stares.  She was shifted, body and clothing both, enough that she wasn't readily recognizable as Phantasm to anyone that didn't know her.  The terats in the room were surely confused by a relative nobody talking to the Teragen luminaries so casually.  "So, what brings you to Zmei?"
This message was last updated by the player at 00:11, Fri 20 Sept 2013.

”You worry too much,” Gale said in response to Dillon’s orders to keep an eye on the crowd.  There wasn’t much of one to begin with, and most of the ones watching were distracted by her anyway.  The woman with wings was an easy distraction.

Even Daphne cemented that point by gawking at her, to the point that Gale raised a brow in concern.  This girl was a nova, wasn’t she?  But not used to meeting novas…nah, she couldn’t be that fresh, could she?  ”Ones so obvious?” she offered, finishing the sentence for her with a smile.  ”C’mon, ‘Stock, she’s a newbie.  Go easy on her.”  Comstock was probably right to be a little paranoid, but Gale knew the look that Daphne had given her.  The look of sheer awe at seeing someone so different that one isn’t even sure how to relate.  An enemy would not have let such a thing happen.

”Excuse me,” she called the waitress over.  ”A round of coffees for the three of us, and tell your manager to cancel that phone call and return this young lady’s card."  She gave the aproned lady a disarming smile.  "You don’t mind, do you?”  She added, turning back to the table.

Comstock shrugged.  He was confident now that Daphne wasn't lying.  But like Gale, he was incredulous at Daphne's lack of experience and youth.  'Course, one of your first nova friends was a teenage shape-shifter with an impenetrable poker face.  You might be getting paranoid, Dillon.

Wilhelm was at something of a loss.  A few simple guns couldn't do anything to him, but any efforts he undertook to stop the people with the guns would probably cause all sorts of collateral damage.  And that would be bad PR.  In fact, seeming to do much of anything overtly aggressive would likely have bad PR effects what with all the cameras present in the room.  Better to be subtle.  He'd finally settled on a course of action, turning the firing pins in all the guns to taffy with his mind, when Impetus started throwing people around telekinetically.  "Ein bisschen ... grob.  Nicht sehr staatsmännisch."  Well, who was Wilhelm to criticize.  He wasn't the one running for president.  He settled for sealing the nova that the terrorists had brought in a ether-summoned, hermetically-sealed sphere of cubic boron nitride before trying to look inconspicuous.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
3 successes on a generally crap roll for Matter Creation.  Still enough to make something big enough it will take a couple people to move with slightly more soak than a tank.

---

Johnny shook his head to sober up and nodded to the huge blue man.  "That ain't gonna work.  My elite friend there hasn't backed down from anything short of a killbot."  Johnny Afterburner didn't go anywhere without his coat and his jetpack, but he detached a metal piece from the backpack that unfolded into a full helmet.

An amplifier carried his voice effectively, and a low two-tone siren sounded from another gadget to signal to the public that they should steer clear.  "Best step back, citizen.  I think I'm going to have to keep the peace here."  Johnny hastily pulled on a pair of leather gloves and cracked his fists, secretly thrilled that he was going to get to do some brawling.

Joe shrugged and slowly backed away, his hands in a gesture of peace.

"Well, I won't stand in your way then. You two have fun."

He looked toward the Elites.

"See? Not with them. I'm the friendly one. Don't hit me."

Man, Joe thought. Clubbing sucked.
This message was last updated by the player at 03:46, Thu 19 Sept 2013.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
This takes place roughly 1 month before [Story Arc #6]  New Beginnings.  Please, PLEASE include the title of the vignette you are replying to at the top of your post.  Makes it easier to track.  Thank you, and enjoy.

---

Debts Paid
The young waitress nodded to Gale.  The winged nova's celebrity clearly trumped whatever crime Daphne had committed, and truth be told, no one in the restaurant wanted to be the one to call the police on the poor girl.  A few moments later, steaming coffee appeared.  The smell was quite pleasant, though a faint scent of sulfur, likely wafting in from outside, spoiled the aroma a bit.

---

Thieves in the Night
The building was deceptively light on security.  Suzukaze, with her unique background, knew that places like this were lightly guarded outside to cut down on scrutiny.  The inside was another matter though, usually a bunch of unarmed, relatively harmless people to use as a shield against police or rivals and bunch of well armed men.

Operator could tell that single guard at the door was a nova, probably some sort of bruiser given the way he carried himself.  He could also sense that the inside was indeed crowded, a rave, novox style.  But among the crowd he could pick out others, mostly clustered in a series of offices near the center of the building, who were not having fun.  Tension, anxiety, anger.

Dragon could tell that the roof was going to be the best entry point.  If they were smart, there would be a guard hidden there, but if they could take the sentinel quietly they could cut through the roof into the building without being seen.  Sound wasn't an issue, given the music.

---

Captive Audience
The michaelists were rapidly and easily subdued.  It was too easy.  Similarities to the Alumni of Tomorrow event came to Flare and Impetus simultaneously, the true motives of the attack realized only too late.  It was happening again.

The subdued terrorists, the few that could still talk, screamed in pain. "Impetus is killing us!"  Those that couldn't speak, well, they just screamed.  And they were dying, even if it wasn't Impetus to blame.

Meanwhile, Kraken secured the nova as Flare dampened the fire surrounding him.  This was serendipitous, as the taint-riddled monster was the second part of the plan.  The novas in the room felt a sudden pressure in their nodes, quantum forces building to an explosive release, before the nova's body exploded in fire.  Flare dampened the effect, while Kraken's bubble protected the crowd.  It cracked under the pressure, but only a few small tongues of fire licked the air before dying out.  The crowd screamed, frightened but uninjured.

The quantum pressure began to build again as the monster sighed in temporary relief at the release of power.  Apparently buildup and release was cyclic, and they were on a timer until the creature exploded again.

---

Chance Meetings
Three of the hired guns kept running, paying little attention to the odd collection of men in the alley.  The fourth, apparently responsible for smoothing over trouble, stopped briefly. "Big guy has it right, we don't need no fighting.  This isn't your concern, you don't know what you're getting into, just go back inside and get a drink on me."  With that he tossed out a wad of $50's.  As the bills hit the ground and he turned to rejoin the chase, he realized his bad luck.  He turned and looked back at the now unmistakable figure of Johnny Afterburner, and the Utopia presence he represented.  "Ah, hell."

He sprinted, though he took a different alley from the one his companions were moving down.  Either he hoped to divert the would be rescuers, or he just didn't want to be there when the Utopia heat came down.

---

Strained Relationships
The room was at something of a loss for how to deal with the situation.  These were novas that defined themselves by being the strongest of their new species, the biggest, meanest bullies on the playground.  The presence of the two pantheon members, and now the stranger that casually frightened away hardened EqW vets, was a huge blow to their self image.  It wasn't that they were more powerful, though that stung; it was their indifference and casual contempt.  But for the time being, no one was willing to do a damned thing about it.  The club goers gradually went back to their drinks and music, leaving ample space around the novas at the bar.  Only the bartender, Baroness, and a few sycophants remained in the vicinity of Solitaire, Phantasm, and Gravitas.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:38, Thu 19 Sept 2013.

Suzukaze stared at the building and glanced around the surrounding area. "It really doesn't matter to us. Does it now Annette? Unless they got themselves a porter they can't get the target away from us." She looks to Operator and Dragon. "We'll leave it up to you. You want us to go in and investigate we will. Go in guns ablazing ready for a fight, and we'll be able to catch them off guard and clear a path for you two." She looks back to the building and shrugs. "We can also disappear. You two go in making them think your by yourselves. While we're in the shadows waiting to surprise them when the time is right."

Imp sighed inwardly, then cued his earpiece, "Hello, operator. We have a terrorist attack in the Ballroom of KHI Plaza. Requesting multiple first aid and police units."  His eyes swept the room, " Everyone remain calm, the situation is contained. Emergency units are on their way. Please go to the lounge until we can be certain that there's no threat to your safety. Kraken, is there any way to tell what they've ingested?" Inwardly he was even less concerned that he appeared. That the Michaelites were willing to sacrifice a dozen men to try to stop his run for the presidency was excellent. Firstly, unless their recruitment was through the roof, such attacks would eliminate the zealots in short order. Their totally contrived screams about him killing them, recorded with the bleeding edge equipment in the room, would register as falsehoods, and his ability to cast the organization in the same light as the Taliban was excellent. The only real downside to the attack was that it had ruined Serenade's conference. It'd have to be rescheduled for the next night.
As he plotted he dialed Utopia, "This is Impetus, we have a nova suicide bomber restrained in the Ballroom at KHI Plaza. Requesting a containment team."
Standing he dialed Claire, his newest aide. " Claire, contact Jonas, tell him that Situation Epsilon has occurred."
Meta response underway he went to the Lounge to reassure his guests, the tyranny of ignorance would never triumph over the dream for a better future.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:55, Thu 19 Sept 2013.

"Shite!" Mechanus ran after the thugs, his long limbs carrying him forward at a speed no human could match. " C'mon boyo, there's a damsel in distress!" When he caught up with the thugs, they clearly weren't worthy of the title 'elite,' he reached out and grabbed one and slammed him into the wall with horrific force.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
4 sux on the brawl roll, damage will be [25]+7 bashing

---

This message was last edited by the player at 12:26, Thu 19 Sept 2013.

The jets ignited, and Johnny Afterburner raced past Mechanus to tackle one of the villains.  The man caught hold, and they screamed into the air grappling for a few seconds before the man came back down to Earth mere feet from Joe.

"Citizen!  Restrain that one!  Just sit on him or something!"  Before Joe could say yes or no Johnny was on the street again, delivering haymakers and headbutts.

"Here to have a chat with Shrapnel." Solitaire replied casually. Phantasm would know why, she always knew things. "Glad it worked out. You look better." She glanced back at the bartender, who was oh so carefully adding precisely three drops from an orange bottle with a bio-hazard marker to each glass. They hissed ominously. She turned back to Phantasm and Baroness.

"Baroness hrmm?" Solitaire made a mental note, "I'm Solitaire, welcome to The Movement. Feel free to ask anything you would like to know. I know just about everybody at least in passing, I can probably point you in whatever direction you would like to go."

There was a small explosion behind her, and Solitaire turned back to the bartender, who's eyebrows were mostly singed off, she smiled and thanked him, picking up the glasses and turning to the room at large. "Now, my friends, sisters and brothers in either arms or Teras. Would any of you care to join me for a drink?" She said, pitching her voice to cut through the music and raising the glass into the air in a friendly challenge. She could read the mood well enough, and wanted to defuse it a bit. "Drinks are on me for the night if anyone does."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:35, Thu 19 Sept 2013.

Joe frowned, still not entirely happy he'd been drawn into the conflict. Finally, he leaned over and addressed the groaning figure collapsed on the pavement. He wagged a finger.

"I don't want to have to sit on you, dude. So I'm just going to warn you that I contain an efficient colony of flesh-eating bacteria that are currently swarming all over your skin and through your cutaneous membranes. You can run away from me, but I'll smell your unique biochemistry anywhere in the city and if I choose to tell my exo-bacteria to go to town I expect they'll reduce you to a slurry in less than a few minutes or so. I don't know if you're a badass that slugs it out, but me...mine? Well, I hope you've got your shots. Maybe that's enough..."

He cocked his head.

"...But in the words of the immortal Clint Eastwood, I guess what I'm saying is 'do you feel lucky?' I don't have time for this, so I'm not going to fight fair and I don't know you so I'm not going to hold back."

He raised back up and quite deliberately walked back to the alley wall where he'd first been lurking, relaxing as if nothing had transpired.

"Your choice," he shrugged.

Taking a moment to assimilate Suzukaze's Gollum impersonation, Dragón decided to pass it by, hoping against hope that this attempt at working with her would go better than the last (or any of the ones before that...).

"From what I can tell," he said, "our best option is to get in quietly through the roof then do a quick assessment of the situation inside.  After that, we can try to make a better plan.  They're likely to have, maybe, one guard hidden up there.  Sue, maybe you could take point and take him out, quietly.  Once we're inside, what with the volume of the 'music' they're listening to, I don't think we'll have to worry about any noise we might make.  Operator, once we're inside, I think our biggest obstacle is going to be video surveillance.  What do you think you could do against that?"

Brief images of a very bloody wedding ceremony went through Flare's head as the Michaelists screamed.  She shook off the memory, and the phantom pain in her hip as she felt the pressure building from the tainted Nova.  She could possibly dampen him again, but temporary measures like that weren't going to cut it.  She noted that Imp was handling something, likely getting backup, on his earpiece.

"Kraken, can you work with me to drag him out of the area?"  If they got him to the roof, or even an empty room, they could minimize damage.  She looked around at the panicked audience, if Imp was busy...

"Hey Serenade!" She didn't know Imp's new prodigy well, just a few meetings at concerts, but the woman was clearly good at what she did, "how about some soothing crowd control?" Flare was pretty certain the woman could calm the crowd, and get their phone numbers (possibly credit card numbers) with just a glance and a few chords.

"Video surveillance can be handled in a variety of ways. The easiest is to not be seen at all. If we're just going to be seen, then we can make sure there's 'nothing to see here.'"

Operator focused, and attempted to apply his newly intensified skill on the information contained in the form of himself, Suzukaze, and El Dragon. There's nothing to see here. Depending on how far they pushed it, it just might work.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
13:38, Today: Operator rolled 3 successes using 6d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 with rolls of 10,1,2,10,9,2. Information manip 2 int 4 mega-int 1. 4+ sux depending on how you count it.

---

"Unfortunately, my sensory processing doesn't allow me to screen things out in real-time. I get to experience everything first and edit it later," this was often a point of consternation for the scientist. He was still plagued by the memories of the nuclear blast that had claimed his fingers and leg. "So for now, they're just noise." He glanced at the drink and then looked out at the crowd when Solitaire issued her challenge to drink.

He wasn't looking for volunteers though, he was looking for Shrapnel or one of her higher-ranking cronies. He'd rather get this over with and leave than linger. He had never been one for parties or clubbing.

Finishing his quick scan of the crowd he turned back to the bar and nudged back a glass that had been steadily approaching him since he'd arrived. "The right direction?" he redirected his gaze toward Phantasm and Baroness, though given the structure of his eyes, it was hard to tell exactly which one he was looking at. "Well, my personal vote is 'not here', but as you may have noticed," he tilted his head toward the other occupants of the club, "I'm not exactly on the Dominion's top-10 list. We didn't come here for a fight, though." He nudged away another cup, "That said, depending on your interests, we can probably connect you with like-minded parties within the movement."

Daphne looked down at the coffee the waitress had brought for her. She cupped it with her hands tightly. She couldn't feel the ceramic of the cup or the warmth of the freshly brewed coffee through her shields. She simply held the cup, knowing she couldn't drink its contents.

Daphne looked up at the two nova across from her and smiled. "This must be all so normal to you two. Laura tries to tell me it will all be normal for me in no time. I think it would be, if my family and community hadn't done its damnedest to isolate itself from the rest of the world. Before... this happened, I thought I understood the world. I knew novas existed and could even name a couple, but my church and family... well they weren't michaelists, but they were close. Maybe my eruption pushed them over that edge. Who knows, I probably will never find out.

Daphne looks down again at the coffee and shakes her head. "My god, I don't know why I am telling you all this. You probably get to hear this type of stuff all the time. Oh and no, not obvious though that works too. I have seen a few novas walking around here who were rather obvious. But, no, I was thinking angelic. Before all this, I was raised a very strict protestant. So your particular look, well it is beautiful and somewhat comforting." Daphne laughs slightly at herself.

More sauced than he'd care to admit -- Paidrag brought out the worst in him -- Afterburner ducked and weaved and swung wildly.  After spinning around twice and catching a knee to the gut, he became distracted after noticing Joe slinking back to his wall.  "What are you do-" he shouted, his sentence remaining forever incomplete as one of the elites slammed an elbow into his helmet.  It crumpled slightly, and the small computer inside crunched noisily against Johnny's skull.

Registering the impact, the damaged computer cut the low two-tone siren and attempted to radio for help.  Instead, it switched to "Randomize" and settled on The Scientists I Cried No Tears at moderately loud volume, just in time for Johnny to whirl back around and rocket boost his knee fiercely into the elite's face.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
OOC: Wrap up the fight fast, or randomize will reveal all of Johnny Afterburner's garage mix!  Also, for those unfamiliar with the song, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RjVySHcxby4

---

This message was last updated by the GM at 04:16, Sun 22 Sept 2013.

"Ah, angelic.  Been called that before.  Having a newbie nova pour out her story upon meeting her?  That one's new."  She added some sugar and cream to her coffee.  The black stuff was always too bitter, regardless of what the others said.

She gave a significant glance to Comstock.  "Let me give you some advice.  That's some heavy stuff you've had happen to you.  But if your family doesn't accept you the way you are, then you need to build yourself a new family."  She pointed her spoon at Daphne for emphasis.  "It's going to be hard.  It's going to hurt.  And you're not going to be sure what to do with yourself for a while.  But if you don't figure out how to move on, then you'll be trapped."  She set the spoon back down, picking up the cup with both hands.

"And you seem like too nice a person to be trapped by someone else's issues."  She took a sip of her coffee, closing her eyes as she thought of her own painful memories.  She hadn't been raised in that kind of environment, but she could imagine Daphne's pain wasn't too far from what she had experienced.  She opened her eyes to study the girl in front of her.  And she's about the same age, too.

Baroness gave a smile back to Phantasm, a puff of a chuckle stayed in her throat at the dual-meaning of Phantasm's own grin. Her eyebrow then lifted at mention of someone named Shrapnel, before she quickly smiled at Gravitas and Solitaire. She noticed that few were taking Solitaire up on her offer so she'd thought she'd do her part while they chatted. She picked up her glass and spun out on the stool, body facing out towards the crowd while she looked to the group. She nudged her homunculus off her lap. It glowered up at her but curled up under the bar top.

She leaned back, legs crossed but presenting as casual and relaxed a demeanor as she could. She laughed and smiled, "My interests? To challenge myself, something I've found increasingly hard to find from baselines. Beyond that? Well, I suppose it's all of you, really. I've heard all kinds of talk about every group from all kinds of sources. But I know well-enough that no organization does exactly what it says on the box. I'd much rather get to know the members who enforce the philosophy than the other way around."

"Like," she continued as she balanced the martini glass between her fingers, "Who is this 'Shrapnel'--If I'm allowed to ask? I've done some homework but I'm nervous with information that doesn't come from someone's mouth, and even then," she said with a wider smile that pulled close to her canines, "But still, I'm getting the sense that this talk you're looking for could tell me much more about The Movement than anything I could fumble about in my head."
This message was last updated by the player at 02:11, Fri 20 Sept 2013.

Paidrag let the goon slump limply to the ground and brought a giant fist down on the back of the head of the man who had caved in Johnny's helmet. "FUN HERE'S OVER, METHINKS. NOW FIX YER SOUND SYSTEM AN LET'S FIND THE DAMSEL.  SHE MIGHT NEED MORE PROTECTION, MEBBE OVERNIGHT.  SHAME YOU'LL HAVE TA BE TINKERIN WITH YER PRETTY LIL' BONNET, BOYO."

"Oh, I'm sure it will be quite informative for everyone."  Measured disinterest that only barely masked resignation with the situation.  The night wasn't going as planned, though apparently Phantasm knew what the plan was.  So much for big game hunting tonight, guess I get to catch up on people instead.

Phantasm took the offered drink.  Her stamina combined with her shifting made it nearly impossible for anything she ingested to effect her.  "So, what have you two been up to for the last six months.  Oh, and do me a favor, don't tell Dillon or Angelo you saw me first.  It'd hurt their feelings."
This message was last updated by the player at 04:16, Sun 22 Sept 2013.

"Ah, screw you Mulligan.  He was already falling over, you half-assed Boston reject.  You saw how he was swaying from that last hit."  A few seconds work and a jolt of quantum was enough to cure the poor circuit board's misunderstanding.  It quieted down for him.  Another second was enough to shake off the sting of that last hit.  "Please don't tell me your sauced ass just killed that guy.  What the hell, man?"

He walked away, ignoring whatever the hell his friend blathered in response.  "Yeah, yeah.  El Dragón was half the trouble you are ... fuckin' elites."  He pulled a pair of zip ties from another compartment on his jetpack and made his way over to Joe's prisoner.  "Well, whatever the hell you said to him it was enough to keep him in one spot.  Nice work, blue man.  You have a name?"
This message was last updated by the GM at 04:15, Sun 22 Sept 2013.

"Jus' a lil' donkey punch, ye Bombay Shitehawk.  Speakin of, and Boston, yer mammy's got some happy memories o tha' place.  Tell 'er i says hi. You boys stay here all dingleberry like, Ah'm gonna go find the cutlet."

Chance Meetings
Three down, that left only the fourth nova, the one that ran.  Apparently, from the girls scream only a block down, he'd found his mark.

Captive Audience
As Impetus leaned down, he noticed prison tattoos on the man he spoke to.  Russian lettering too.  And they didn't have the look of home grown patriots, now that he had the chance to really examine them... There was a good chance these weren't Michaelists at all.  The only thing he was sure of was that they believed they were, and they believed he was killing them.  Telepathic control?  Again?  Really?

Strained Relationships
A few in the crowd approached to take Solitaire up on her offer.  They gave Gravitas his distance, but Solitaire at least was nominally supportive of all the Terat factions, and known as a fair, though dangerous, nova.  Baroness, at the focal point of power in the room, gained status just by being seen with the pantheon members.

Cassia was terrified.  She knew why they were after her of course, in the most general sense.  She could do things.  But she didn't understand why that mattered, not in a world with novas.

She was running out of energy, and she was exhausted.  She was thankful the other novas were there to intervene, but she wasn't sure who she could trust anymore, so she kept running.  And she ran straight into the last of her pursuers.

"C'mon, just come quietly, no one's gonna hurt you kid.  You're way more valuable alive and healthy.  Now, just go to sleep..."

Cassia blinked away from the cloud of soporific gas he created, but she was too weak to go far.  He knew it too, as he scanned the area to find her.  "Come out, come out little girl..."
This message was lightly edited by the player at 03:33, Fri 20 Sept 2013.

Joe winced as he heard the scream.

Crap.

"I'm Joe," he murmured, not particularly wanting to be drawn any deeper into all of this, his conscience notwithstanding.

A bit more confidently, he turned to his "prisoner," waving away the man trying to restrain the other.

"It's cool. I don't think he wants to rush off anywhere..."

Moving away from the wall he squatted down onto his haunches closer to the other man.

"Look, whatever your friend over there wants with the girl? It's nothing you want in on anymore. You got a way of calling him? Why don't you have him come back over here to have a chat, okay? You guys really squeezed out the stinky pickle on this one, sorry. I'm just not sure you could have drawn a more terrible choice in alleys to walk into."

He looked up at the other man, crackling with quantum.

"I think our friend here will cooperate - he's not a bad guy, right dude? Let's get your friend back over here and talk things over, and no one has the talk about naegleria fowleri novus. It's a brain-eating amoeba, and it can be trained to attack specific DNA signatures. Really scary stuff. Like, one day you're all right and the next you're filling your shorts for the rest of your life and its done at the DNA level. Your body can't even tell anything's wrong, welcome to the new normal."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:50, Fri 20 Sept 2013.

Gravitas held up a hand of assurance, "I won't tell them." He opted to first address Phantasm's prompt, as it would probably be faster and he knew she could spend some of the time he spoke to Baroness filling in the gaps he left. "As for what I did, well, aside from my research, the last six months included 47 meetings with various individuals, some of which I can and some of which I can't talk about. I invented 67 devices - filed patents for about a third of them, though I fully admit some are more useful than others," he briefly considered where the six-month mark was, "I suppose that was after I destroyed all of my research Utopia still had possession of. I still get subpenas about that every few weeks. I spent 3 consecutive weeks in low Earth orbit reorganizing my thoughts - mostly getting some of the remaining cobwebs out after the last team outing," he tried to decide if anything else he'd done was worth mentioning. "I rejected the notion of leaving Earth altogether for the 4th time. Someday. Not yet."

His head shifted minutely as he moved his attention to Baroness. "Before I answer your question, a niggling curiosity - is your title indicative of actual landed nobility, or is it affected? If so, where from? As for who Shrapnel is, she's another of the Teragen 'movers and shakers'. If you're here I'm actually a little surprised you've never heard of her. She's pretty impossible to miss once you see her though. Her elevation left her with a body of metallic shards held together with what I suspect is a charged plasma. Not that she'd ever let me conduct any tests to confirm that theory. She and I have... differing ideologies, particularly where baseline humans are concerned. She would call me an apologist, if she were feeling particularly benevolent at the moment. I'm afraid the kindest label I have for her is 'extremist'. I'm sure any conversation we have will be... enlightening." and probably also quite brief, he added mentally. If Solitaire hadn't been there, he'd have never bothered coming at all. Shrapnel would never hear him out without someone there to play moderator. Someone she respected - just about everyone respected Sol to some degree. He just hoped it would be enough to make the nova firebrand listen for once.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:14, Sun 22 Sept 2013.

"Ja.  It is a simple thing."  Wilhelm could certainly tell if the terrorists were on any sort of drugs.  More accurately, he couldn't not tell if the terrorists were on drugs.  The drug-use habits of everyone within a quarter kilometer were an open book to Wilhelm, whether he wanted to know or not.  It grew annoying.  Really the biggest problem was filtering out the haze of drug particles that all the people who weren't terrorists were emitting.  Leave it to the ultra-wealthy to know where to get the good stuff.  He extended a few tentacles to try and triangulate the scents.  Alprazolam?  That would be the Senator from Connecticut.  Atorvastatin?  Not very interesting that, and too common to source accurately.  Did they give everyone a prescription for that these days?  Venlafaxine?  The fat film director and the skinny talk show host.  Nitrosoprodenafil, amyl nitrite, and α-ethyltryptamine?  The political operator from the Center for American Traditionalism who would apparently be more comfortable if this fundraiser had a throbbing bass beat, strobing lights, and a VIP room.  Where were those terrorists?  "Ah.  Here we are."  He said no more aloud, instead producing a small, plastic chit containing a list of compounds from a slot in his grasper.  Technically he was a health care provider under the new Title III of HIPAA.  Any reporting of the pharmacological history of the terrorists would have to be on the down low if he wanted to avoid a federal investigation.

"I think a solution to the problem readily presents itself."  Turning away from Impetus, Wilhelm gestured past Flare towards the floor-to-ceiling picture window that graced the south side of the chalet.  They were 1700 feet above the floor of Vail Valley here.  And the nova bomb was, at least for the moment, stuck inside a ball.  Wilhelm lined things up then gave the ball a kick.  Not his hardest kick by any stretch of the imagination.  He didn't want to inflict more damage on the already leaking ball after all.  Just strong enough to make the nova bomb somebody else's problem.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Molecular manipulation let's you just spend a quantum to identify everything's composition for a ludicrous range around you, so let's go with that.  8 successes on the roll.

---

This message was last edited by the player at 05:31, Fri 20 Sept 2013.

"SHITE!" Mechanus cursed. If they were elites there was no way one of them would come back for his mates when the target was within reach. That had been pounded into him in basic. He sprinted toward the sound of the scream, audio processors calculating echoes and calculating the sound's probable point of origin. Rounding a corner he saw the man and increased speed. The thug was about to have 2400lbs of valiant nova rescuer to deal with.

Daphne bit her lip a bit as she thought about what Gale had said to her. "I've been trying to move on, but... I'm still having trouble controlling my own powers. I can't even turn this damn shield off. I haven't changed clothes in months. I shower, but the water never touches me. I can't smell things without trying really hard. Same goes for hearing stuff, people surprise me all the time. Laura's manager has been trying to set me up with all these ex-utopia doctors who specialize in training new novas, but they all just... I don't know, they don't seem to know what it is really like being a nova. I mean they know form books and studies, but so far not one of them has been a nova."

Daphne bits her lip again before speaking. "You two are really the first novas to talk to me much since I met Laura or even since I erupted. How did you all deal with this? I... I don't want to go to a Rashoud facility, but I am starting to think that Utopia might be my only option now. I didn't even know what I wanted to do when I became an adult, let alone what I want to do now that I am a... nova"

Daphne takes her hands away from the cup of coffee and places them in her lap.
This message was last updated by the GM at 04:13, Sun 22 Sept 2013.

Baroness tilted her head as she took note of Gravitas laundry list of accomplishments. Her lips gave a light smile before she laughed at the question, throwing her head back for a moment, "Oh--Dear, no. Nothing as spectacular as that. Of course I considered it but it seemed rather unfair to all those poor girls who had to go to cotillion. No--It's actually an admittedly obscure reference to a possible old latin translation of baro; Mercenary. I gave, let's say--advice to baseline corporations as a way to support myself. I thought it was only fair to offer my services to the highest bidder. The first name anyone called me was actually Goblin Queen. While I found it flattering, of course, I thought it was a bit too derogatory to my little ones," her homunculus coming out and hopping up to grab onto and dangle off her high-heel clad foot, which she takes little notice of, "So, at best I suppose you could think of it that my body is my land and they are my subjects." She bounced her foot, the little creature swinging about until it let go and scurried under the bar stool again.

She polished off the rest of her drink and set it down. She only had to lean back and catch the bartender's eye for a moment before he was drawn to put her order to the head of the line. She looked back to Gravitas, "I have heard of her. I've heard of all of you. It's rather difficult not to. But as fun as it might be to believe gossip, I'm well aware things must be much more complex." She picked up the new drink again with  another smile to the bartender, "And it already sounds fascinatingly so."

Serenade had allowed her senses to flow across the audience, emptying her mind while she felt what they felt, when the attackers rushed in.  She heard but didn't really register Imp's shout for her to get down, but she fell nonetheless...on her knees, hands covering her ears as suddenly everyone in the room began to panic.  She heard it all so very clearly, every heartbeat, every scream, every whimper...she was momentarily overwhelmed, until she heard a voice calling her name.  Flare, that was her name...Flare was telling her something.  With great effort she managed to push all of the sounds to the background and focused on Flare's voice...calm them down.  She slowly and shakily stood, as she began to sing, the first thing that she could think of in her shocked stupor...something to calm them down...one of the most well known Variations of "Ah vous dirai-je, Maman" by Mozart, while calming herself she pushed with a channel of quantum.

"Twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are...

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Using Soothe, 22:35, Fri 20 Sept 2013: Serenade rolled 1 success using 7d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 ((2,7,6,3,4,5,3)).  Beginning to use Holo and Empathy Control next turn

---

This message was last edited by the player at 03:37, Sat 21 Sept 2013.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
This takes place roughly 1 month before [Story Arc #6]  New Beginnings.  Please, PLEASE include the title of the vignette you are replying to at the top of your post.  Makes it easier to track.  Thank you, and enjoy.

---

Debts Paid
The wait staff was courteous an discreet, refilling coffee and checking up on the table full of novas, one of the last occupied tables in the restaurant.  Though several of them should have been off shift by now, they lingered; not only were they interested in the famous novas, they were charmed by Daphne and, despite her chrysalis, Gale.  They wanted to see the end of the drama play out.  They were in for further surprises however...

The smell of sulfur, lingering in the air for some time, suddenly intensified as two new guests arrived.  The first, was the spitting image of every modern caricature of the christian devil, personified and wearing a priest's cassock.  Red skin and horns, clawed hands and the stench of brimstone, one was left wondering whether he had goats legs and cloven hooves under his robes as well.  The devil's companion, and biblical opposite, was for all intents and purposes, an angel.  Where Gale's appearance sometimes caused religious individuals to mistake her for a religious figure despite her efforts to the contrary, this man purposefully and unmistakably affected an angelic appearance.  Not a beatific, loving angel either; the four-winged angel hovered in the air, shining breastplate covering an ornate toga, arms ending in visciously clawed hands across the chest in consternation, and burning wrath smoldering behind his eyes, the prodigal angel looked for all the world as though he came to judge the world for its sins.  The two had eyes only for Gale.

Prodigal spoke first, as the devil was inexplicably shy.  "Before you speak against me, hear my words.  I come not of my own accord, but as an escort to this unseasoned member of the Host.  He wishes to speak to you, and though I urged patience, he would not be swayed.  Belphegor, speak if you would, it is not our lot to tarry amongst the mortals outside our role as messengers of divine will."  After the angel spoke, the demon approached, head lowered and eyes downcast. His voice was the whisper of a young man barely beyond puberty.  "Elder sister, I thank you for your mercy and wisdom.  I am in your debt, and I-" He paused then, anxious, fearful of rejection.  "I wish to serve at your side, and in your company find wisdom and mercy befitting one of the Host."  There was more here, ritual and doctrine were wrapped up in his statement, meanings unclear.

---

Thieves in the Night
As the three discussed their options, and cemented their plan of attack, three cars pulled up to the front of the warehouse in a line, eschewing the normal parking.  One nova and two men, all of Chinese descent, exited each car and entered the building without even a nod to the bouncer.

---

Captive Audience
The nova time bomb fell to the snow several stories below.  There was the sharp sound of the impromptu carapace hitting the rocks, but between the armor and the wretched creature's stamina, he seemed well enough.  The flare of energy that followed a minute later proved beyond a doubt that he was at least still alive.

Serenade's song had the desired calming effect on the crowd, though not as much as she had hoped for.  She was wonderful at working a crowd for entertainment, but she was still learning how to handle other emotions and situations.  Impetus could have handled it easily, but he was busy, and would have been remiss as a mentor if he let this teachable moment pass Serenade by.

The remaining "michaelists" were all incapacitated, and probably dying.  Police and a nova response unit were on their way.  All that was left was to salvage the media situation and triage the dying terrorists, if that was in fact a priority to anyone there.  The terrorists were all on Empathy, but that wasn't why they were dying.

---

Chance Meetings
Wheelman hit his fellow elite in the side.  The man was fast, whoever he was, but he wasn't quite fast enough.  The moment threw him into the alley wall, stunning him for a moment and creating an opening for Wheelman to pin him there between grille and bricks, but as the car spun around there was a flash of... something?

From the shadows, a humanoid figure clenched its fist, and the elite suddenly disintegrated, leaving not even a stain on the wall.  The Stranger unclenched its fist and pointed to a large dumpster, and when Wheelman's optics focused on the trash bin, the Stranger took the opportunity to disappear.

Lacking any better alternatives the mechanical elite explored the dumpster, finding a frightened, shaking girl.

---

Strained Relationships
The club was returning to its normal, hyper-aggressive, posturing, abrasive self. Drinking resumed, and novas shouted, shoved, and socialized throughout Club Zmei. A fight in the corner cost an elite three teeth.  An impromptu couple had sex to the beat of the music. A table threw a bottle at the band, and got hit with a gout of caustic steam from the lead singer for their efforts.  Then Shrapnel and her entourage walked in.

In a repetition of the earlier scene, all but the band and the coupling couple stopped their activities, turning to watch the humanoid mass of metal shards enter and square off against the other pantheon members.  Her Soldiers, Matador and Gauze, flanked her as she came close enough to the bar to be easily heard.  "You think you have the right to come into my house Quentin?  After what you did to Geryon?  Solitaire, you better have a reason for bringing this race traitor in here."  A quick look over at Phantasm and Baroness.  "Oh, Utopia's little rebel-without-a-clue all dressed up in tough girl clothes, and a new friend too.  How sweet.  You and your little goblins with them, or are you here to support the cause?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:11, Sun 22 Sept 2013.

Cassia was afraid, this was a new nova, some sort of mechanical monster.  She held up a hand and made it glow with power, wrapping quantum lightning around it like a glove.  It was all she had left, and though it wasn't going to hurt anyone, hopefully the robot man wouldn't know that.
This message was last updated by the player at 01:46, Sun 22 Sept 2013.

Solitaire was interested in what Baroness was saying, but was rather more concerned with the appearance of Shrapnel.

"Now Shrapnel. We all have our parts to play in the movement. You know that. As to why we are here, aside from drinks, rumor has it you are planning something big, we are here to inquire as to what that might be."

She leaned back against the bar, grinning and drinking a rather less volatile cocktail, posture relaxed but also ready to step in if Shrapnel did something unpredictable and silly.

"Grav is here on behalf of The Accord, I am here to moderate, potentially either your actions or between the two of you. Take your pick. Also, Shrapnel, this is Baroness. Baroness, Shrapnel. Shrapnel represents The Dominion, and is the one you want to talk to if you cannot get over the fact the baselines have wronged you in some way. They take a very proactive stance in nova-baseline relations."

While it was regrettable that The Dominion could not get over its hatred of baselines, since Solitaire couldn't really comprehend hating something she did not perceive as at threat. It would be like having a visceral hatred of dogs or something. It was just pointless. That type of thing was only excusable with bees. Solitaire hated bees. She regarded the existence of The Dominion to be both necessary and inevitable, the wild and angry ones would always find their way into the movement, and Solitaire vastly preferred to know where to look for them when she needed to redirect their efforts.
This message was last updated by the GM at 04:13, Sun 22 Sept 2013.

Dillon didn't know who the devil-kid was, but he wasn't too far off from that punk from Detroit who'd been all over the news lately.  Mephistofoleez or something equally idiotic.  "Isn't it a little early for Halloween?"  Prodigal, on the other hand, he hadn't seen or spoken to since Bunia, 2001.  Just clips from the news.  "Looks like you've managed to build a little place for yourself, David.  How's life?"

He folded his arms across his chest.  "Gale, if you have some business with these two, I can show our young friend a few of the sights."  No sense letting the kid get brainwashed into another cult, or letting her dwell too long on her own past.
This message was last updated by the player at 05:52, Sun 22 Sept 2013.

Johnny nodded since Joe couldn't see his grin through the helmet.  "Thanks, Joe!  You're a pro.  Keep an eye out, I'll be right back."  In seconds, he was whipping down the alley after Mechanus.  With his reaction time, his only limit was not crossing the sound barrier and causing structural damage.

On arrival, he found Mechanus and a scared girl in a dumpster.  "Hey compressorhead, where's the last one?"  He couldn't find any sign of the last elite.  After touching down and scanning the area, he took a closer look at the girl.  "It's okay, miss, we're not gonna hurt you.  Seriously, Mechanus, what happened to that last one?"

Just as Daphne had been unable to hide her response to seeing Gale; she was equally unable to hide her emotions as her jaw dropped again. She stared at the new comers for what seemed like an eternity to her. Hearing Dillon speak brought her wits back to her. She instinctively scooted her seat away from the two new novas.

In a hushed voice that she barely realized she was speaking in "I think I would like to go someplace else, almost anywhere else..."

Daphne was torn between a desire to see how this ended and the knowledge that this was beyond her right now. Though she also didn't know if leaving Gale alone with this pair was a good idea.

Joe shrugged at the other man's praise. He was just trying to get out of the alley without things going nuts. He turned to the Elite after Johnny'd left and attempted to make idle conversation.

"So... you're an Elite right? How's that work out, exactly? You sit around your day job... watch cartoons a lot... something like that, then someone calls you up 'Hey, we need you to go break some laws and chase a little girl?'"

His tone wasn't particularly condemning.

"Doesn't really seem like a good gig, personally. Especially telling you to come here of all places? Dicey."

He shrugged.

"Just walking it through out loud, dude. Not trying to get in your business."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:48, Sun 22 Sept 2013.

Gale was about to reply to the girl's questions when she noticed Prodigal and Belphegor out of the corner of her eye and then she was on her feet, whirling to face them.  Her feathers puffed out in every direction as she saw Prodigal, that bastard.  She only calmed a little when both he and Belphegor had spoken.

"Yeah, that's not a bad idea, 'Stock," she said, and turned back to Daphne.  "Sorry about this.  Here's my card.  Look me up sometime, ok?"  She tried to give the girl a reassuring smile, but Daphne would be able to  see her expression harden as she turned back to the two intruders.

She waited until Comstock and Daphne were out of sight, taking stock of the remaining baselines and the surrounding environment.  She didn't think a fight likely, but she didn't want to see this on the local news either.  She pulled Belphegor aside, her expression softening once she wasn't focusing on Prodigal.  "Belphegor, I understand that you feel indebted to me, but you don't need to repay me.  I don't keep an entourage or servants.  Aren't you happy where you are?  Are you wanting to leave the Host?"  She was trying not to ruin his ritual, but she didn't want a spy of Prodigal's following her around.  If he wanted to leave the Host on the other hand, she could probably find a place for him in Solitaire's House of Cards.

That and she wasn't feeling all that merciful these days.

Daphne stands up and takes a couple steps towards Dillon. "So that sight seeing thing, it sounds really great."

Daphne follows Dillon outside. The nervousness is obvious in the tone of her voice. "So... I haven't really gotten to see much of Vegas yet. I mostly have been staying in Laura's place. Is there anywhere you consider a must see?"

Dillon loosened up once out of reach and sight of the Host fanatics.  "There's a lot.  But first things first: have you already been to a Rashoud Center?"  Dillon tried to read Daphne's face, his gaze betraying concern and suspicion in equal measure.  "You said you didn't want to go to a Rashoud Center, but I don't know if that's because you're nervous about going to one or you've had a bad experience at one already."

He felt ... old.  Serious.  Distant from the youth who Caestus Pax had rewarded just for speaking up back in Africa.  "I don't want to scare you.  But you're about to be a hot commodity, pursued by everyone.  There's only five or six thousand of us in the world, and I can tell you first hand it's not going to be easy.  And if Laura hasn't forced you to go to a Rashoud Center that means she's good people."

"A job well done."  If it had been possible and meaningful for Wilhelm to brush his graspers together and pour himself a drink he would have.  Instead he resolved to sit back and wait for the police.  "Ich könnte genauso gut mich nützlich machen."  The crowd certainly seemed worked up.  They could be gassed into compliance, but that would have been gauche at the very least.  Wilhelm scanned the chalet for an alternative, eventually settling on a Grotrian-Steinweg concert grand shoehorned into one corner of the room.  He didn't really know how to play the piano, but the theory was simple enough.  Walking over, dragging a few incapacitated terrorists with him in the interests of humanity and efficiency, he settled his bulk onto the piano's bench with an ominous creak before making a few changes to his graspers.  Two hands of three fingers just wouldn't do; 88 long, individual fingers were much more like it.  Without preamble, he launched into a workmanlike rendition of Debussy's En Blanc et Noir while rearranging the terrorist's tissues with his mind to keep them stable until the police arrived.  The piece was really intended for four hands, but 88 fingers sufficed.  Twelve minutes or so later, and with some attention drawn away from the writhing terrorists and the fact that the police were taking their own sweet time in responding, he turned to Serenade.  "You wouldn't happen to know Ariettes Oubliées, would you?  I doubt my vocoder could produce the appropriate timbre."

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Have 5 successes in the form of cooperation for whatever you're planning, Serenade.  I may not have much Arts, but I do have Wits.  Also, 10 successes on Medicine for treating the terrorists.  I do love multitasking.

---

This message was last edited by the player at 05:22, Tue 24 Sept 2013.

Paidrag looked down at the tiny, frightened girl, "'S a'ight, lassie, 'm nae gonna hurt ye," as he spoke he began to shift, plates folding in on themselves, pistons compressing.  He swiftly reached human size then his machine surface folded under, revealing his human form.
"Na, way was them tonkers chasin ye?ye done a bit o the paff an cony show?"
He looked at the two other men when they arrived, "Th' fourth man?  Some other bloke zapped him, then pulled a white rabbit.  Uncanny-like.""
This message was last edited by the player at 01:57, Sun 29 Sept 2013.

As Laura finally came to herself and was able to piece everything together, Kraken had began playing one of Debussy's most haunting pieces.  She subconciously began to hum the singer's part when he addressed her.  "Of course I do my Patron, it would be my great honor to perform it with you." , she added just the hint of submission and promise into her voice as she addressed him...it never hurt to flirt with the boss, and entered  on her cue.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Finally the dice roller shows me some love!!!  There is one Mega-att, but it didn't succeed.  The 10 does double as I have the quality for this roll, or I am supposed to, but I haven't actually looked at the qualities yet in order to put them on my sheet, so GM prerogative.
00:28, Wed 25 Sept 2013: Serenade rolled 5 successes using 8d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 ((1,9,7,10,1,9,5,7)).  Also, she is using Holo for this as well as singing, but I think that the roll for Holo only is made if you are trying to disguise being the source of the illusion.

---

"I haven't actually been to one and to be honest haven't heard much about them. I was just raised to believe that Utopia and Novas are evil. I would rather ease into all this, but the more time that passes the more I doubt that there is an easing into this."

For the first time today Daphne took a deep breath and sighed. "Scaring me isn't all that difficult right now. Honestly, I know I have probably been very lucky with staying out of the limelight as much as I have. Laura has done a lot with getting me used to being in the public eye, but it is still hard on me. I just don't really know what I am good at, well other than not getting hurt. One day your a typical teenager and the next your getting hit by a train and living."

Daphne smiles a little and shakes her head. "Geez, I am just a sad sack today. Laura is a good person, a little conceited. I think you have to be though to be one of us, but your comment begs the question; why does Laura not forcing me into a Rashoud Center yet mean she is a good person? Do you have something against Utopia?"

Daphne looks into Dillon's face and smiles her best smile. Trying to show she is not scared, but a little fear does creep through.

Debts Paid
Belphegor replied to Gale with deference. but also determination.  "I do not wish to leave the Host, it is my home now, and I have you to thank for helping me find my place there.  If you do not wish to be seen with me, I understand this too.  But I will see my debts paid.  I will be a Guardian to my elder sister, out of sight but there to help, even if you do not want to teach me."  He was trying so very hard to speak in a measured, mature manner befitting his angelic duties, but the look of stubborn resolve was that of adolescent males the world over.

Prodigal turned away from the scene to stare out the window, a look of mild disapproval marring his features.

---

Outside the restaurant, the famed water fountains sparkled in the late afternoon sun.  A familiar face, the nova bodyguard and bouncer Shield walked by with a wave.  A bus stopped, letting out a flood of tourists, several of whom stopped to gawk at the famous Dillon Amargosa.  A few approached for autographs, while a handful of others grumbled in awed resentment.

Captive Audience
The audience swayed to the haunting piece as the surreal scene unfolded.  Serenade's voice was accompanied by a full background orchestra and subtle natural sounds that perfectly offset the instruments.  Kraken's monstrous carapace playing the piano added depth to the piece, and his gentle ministrations were enough to stabilize the terrorists who still survived.  Some of the attackers even began to sway to the music, their cares temporarily forgotten.

The event was later dubbed the Hostage Concert by the tickers on the news stations.  Scenes were replayed for weeks as the ramifications of the event were discussed; the ramifications to nova-human relations, the impact on Impetus's bid for presidency, and the dangers of nova persuasive abilities were among the more prominent points of debate.  Without the live impact of Serenade's soothing presence and emotion control, viewers were struck by the surreal, unsettling image of the crowd, swaying to the music in the bloodstained hall, weapons visibly abandoned, as the monster and the diva performed.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
you can feel free to spin this, or follow up on it a bit more, but the cops and nova response people arrive to take the situation off your hands.

---

Chance Meeting
Joe's captive nova grunted a few times to acknowledge that words had been spoken at him, but he didn't go much beyond that until the girl was mentioned.  His expression said he didn't really like the job he was given, but he wasn't at liberty to speak about it.  Instead, he turned to other topics.  "Vegas ain't no worse than anywhere else.  Yeah, there's a lot o' novas, but they ain't really lookin' around too much, too busy livin' the good life.  And ain't like she could run out there for help..." Realizing he said too much, he started over. "Anyway, ain't too bad in Vegas, just stay ta the back alleys, away from the strip an' the new money areas, ya usually won't run in ta trouble."

--

The girl in the dumpster was shacking.  Shock and fear stole her voice, and exhaustion kept her from moving.  This was no trained fighter, no nova dynamo.  This was a tired child that had ran from monsters and had finally found people who would take the burden of survival off her shoulders.  She started sobbing quietly, but didn't resist being helped out of the dumpster if anyone offered.

Joe grunted.

"I guess... A nice theory at least. Sorry it got all screwed up for you, sort of. I don't really like holding people hostage by their... well, there's really all sorts of terrifying stuff hiding in everyone. And it wants to eat everyone but it's all...confused. Viruses and bacteria? Not mental giants. Of course, I'm no Antaeus, I've had to study harder than I ever did before just to keep from murdering my girlfriend during foreplay. You're an Elite though, so I guess you of all people know just how freaking frail all this meat is. Even Novas - we all think we're full of life, but everything living is right on the edge of a catastrophic apocalypse. The rot, it starts inside every cell in your bodies and you don't even know."

He patted his bright orange Hawaiian shirt for a non-existent pack of cigarettes, frowned as he recalled he'd quit, and continued.

"So what's the super secret thing about the girl, if you don't mind me asking? I know you guys have contracts and all that, but surely there's a 'Giant Blue Sailor Guy Threatened to Give Me Space Clap" exit clause? You weren't going to molest or her or anything like that, right? What's the big deal - seems like a job for a sixteen year old babysitter, not four presumably hardcore badasses like yourself?"

Baroness smiled curtly to Shrapnel when she arrived and spoke before raising an eyebrow at Solitaire's explanation of The Dominion, responding while keeping her voice from giving clear support or rejection "I'll keep it in mind, thank you." She looked back to Shrapnel, "Pleasure meeting you. You keep a delightful space," she ran a finger behind her ear, pushing a lock of hair back, before trailing it down her cheek as she spoke, "Of course I support the movement. Whether or not I support anyone here is another matter all together, it would seem. Still, I would be honored to speak with you at some point."

Her eyes flickered over Gravitas for a moment, "But I wouldn't want you to waste your time on me when you've clearly more pressing conversation." With that she let her gaze fall onto Matador and Gauze as she sipped her drink. Her eyes giving a strange mix of scrutiny and the very hints of flirtation to each.

"Hey.  That's not what I meant, and you know it," she said in response to his implication that she didn't want to be seen with him.  The words were harsh, but her tone kind.  Damn if he didn't act like a little brother, pulling out those big sister instincts in her.

"I totally believe that you would protect me.  I remember how tough you are.  But, the thing is, I don't need protecting."  She sighed.  "Belphegor, when we met, you were confused about your place in the world, and being used by other people because you were confused.  I helped you because that broke my heart."  She was still well aware that Prodigal was within earshot.  She didn't want him knowing more about her than he already did.  "Rather than thinking of it as a debt that you owe me, you should think of it as a pay-it-forward kind of thing.  If you see someone who needs help finding their place in the world, you help them the way I helped you."

"And if you want to ask me questions or meet up with me, you only have to ask.  But I don't want you following me around like a shadow.  You're more than a shadow.  And a girl needs her privacy, y'know?"  She tried to insert a little bit of that sisterly nature in, making a joke so he wouldn't feel like she was snubbing him.  He really did seem like a decent kid.

"I was not aware that we were operating no a first name basis, Allison," he replied to Shrapnel. He smiled pleasantly. He showed no indications of being affected by any of her name-calling. He knew she was just trying to bait him, stir him up, and otherwise put him off guard. He ignored her comment about Geryon, he'd said what he was going to on that topic. "But suffice it to say that I would not come here if I did not have a very good reason to do so."

"Rumor has it that you're planning something big. Given the nature of virtually all of your current plans and your undeniable biases, the assumption is that whatever it is, its quite violent. I am here to ask you to halt any such plan. Nothing more. Violence against baselines does not serve the Teragen interests - it will only turn them against us. I am aware that you believe that the situation is already 'Us vs Them', but you have not even begun to see what might happen if the baseline governments are provoked into action against novas in general or the Teragen in specific. Raoul would probably say something about public opinion, but I don't really think that matters as much as he does - governments, though? That matters. The last thing we need is for the Teragen to be definitively labeled as a terrorist organization - we're already borderline as it is." He plodded through this pre-prepaired message undaunted by any attempts to interject or otherwise interrupt. He strongly suspected that Shrapnel stopped listening somewhere around the second word, but he waited to see if she could be reasoned with (for some definition of 'reason').
This message was last updated by the player at 02:53, Thu 26 Sept 2013.

Chance Meetings
As the two brash young men decided what to do with the girl sitting amongst the piles of garbage, Joe's hostage was growing less talkative and more hostile. "Fuck you, I don' fuck kids ya blue bastard.  But I don't ask too many questions when the pay's good an' the target has powers o' her own."

Debts Paid
Prodigal sighed in frustration.  "I told you Belphegor, she is not one to accept your Guardianship, there are more appropriate appointments.  And while you are free to choose your mentors, there are more appropriate guides.  Let the woman be."  Turning to Gale.  "Our last meeting made it clear you wished to be left to your own path.  My apologies for intruding."

Belphegor seemed unconvinced, but was willing to leave.  "I would like very much to ask you questions.  I will call on you again... if that's alright with you?" He walked toward Prodigal, but he kept his gaze on Gale.  "I have a first question.  I have chosen my role within the Host, that of Guardian.  But what good is a guardian without someone to guard?  Tell me, who do I guard?"

Strained Relationships
Shrapnel smiled at Baroness, sharp edges and red hot metal, but said nothing.  Her soldiers eyed the beautiful nova, Matador returning Baroness's flirtation by openly tracing the line of her body with his gaze before offering her a hand down from her stool.

Shrapnel's smile turned to barred teeth accompanied by the sound of grinding metal when Gravitas used her old name.  "NEVER use that name to refer to me again.  You may be a monkey lover that still going through the motions of their human life, but I've moved on with my life, burned away all ties to what was."  She wasn't willing to engage him in open conflict, not yet, not after Geryon.  She was unstable though, and might attack if sufficiently provoked.

She paced a bit as she thought a moment.  "So you want to stop me from acting against the baselines.  You know what they're doing, right?  All across Asia they're putting laws in place to limit us, bind us.  If we can free their novas, make them think for themselves, we won't have to worry about retaliation.  We'd have an army."

Thieves in the Night
Operator cloaked the group in a veil of misinformation, but his full attention was occupied by the effort, at least for the moment.  Suzukaze was lost in her own inner monologue, unresponsive to either man's promptings.  That left El Dragon to act, if he so chose.  Operator was his backup if things went to hell.

"Respect and acknowledgement are earned - you want me to call you Shrapnel. Fine. I will, but I expect the same courtesy in return," he hoped that enforcing such a standard between them would help her remember that he too was a nova and was deeply invested in that state of being. He had some other opinions about Shrapnel and her issues, but this was neither the time or the place to address them. "The Null Manifesto, as I'm sure you know, states that we are free from baseline law. By acting against governments that attempt to legislate against novas, even you are not free from those laws. By acknowledging them, you give them credibility. Further, it risks proving to the baselines that such laws are necessary."

He shrugged, "And while the laws themselves may not mean much to those of us that have thrown of such shackles, they do go a long way towards shaping a nation's policy. We may not need their mores and governance, but we do still need to exist within their borders without them calling for air strikes."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:33, Thu 26 Sept 2013.

"Powers?" Joe asked, ignoring the man's protests.

"She's a little young, isn't she? And still... four? The pay's good? Is her name Mathilda? Akira?" Joe shook his head.

"You don't have to answer that. You know, rhetorical and all that."

He sighed. He wished the other two would come back. He was getting tired of pretending he was some sort of Alley Cop.

"So, completely different question: What do you spend your money on? I mean, I get paid pretty well and mostly the scariest things I deal with are all this nova crap I never wanted to know about in the first place. But I'm not, y'know... loaded or anything. Not sure I'd know what to do with it since I can't blow it all on booze and pills and blow. You have a 'leet lair or something? Get Nike to make you your own special sneakers maybe?"

Baroness smiled over the edge of her glass at the response from Matador. She set her drink down and gave Gauze a wink, not wanting the woman to feel left out as she floated her hand into Matador's and slid up to her feet. She looked down to her homunculus and projected a warm smile, "Stay with Phantasm dear, and be good. I think she likes you and we wouldn't want to ruin that, now would we?" The little beast gurgled and scurried over to set a gnarled hand up onto Phantasm's pant leg and give a small tug.

She spun about around Matador, attempting to turn him with her and pull him away towards the crowd, "I do believe I've seen you somewhere. Something about you being wanted?" said with a low chuckle. Her hips started into a salsa rhythm as best it fit with the music, "Come--Does your name apply to dancing too?"

Paidrag looked at Johnny as if to say what the fuck do we do now?  He looked back at the little girl, then awkwardly lifted her out of the dumpster and held her, awkwardly, while murmuring meaningless Irish flavored drivel to her. He again looked at Johnny, "Ah'm na 'shamed t' say this iz a touch outside m' trainin, boyo. Wha'd'we do with the lil' poppet? Family mos' like can't help her 'gainst someone hirin' novas to mops 'n suds 'er. Rashuod?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:06, Thu 26 Sept 2013.

Johnny glanced back at Paidrag, What, like I know what we're supposed to do?  He turned the charm on their foundling to keep her calm.  "Hey there, buddy.  Took four of them to corner you?  Looks like you're a pretty tough lady.  This is my friend Patrick," he didn't even try to say it right, "and you can call me Johnny."  Meanwhile, the viewport of Johnny's helmet snapped photos of the girl and tried to establish an uplink to sort through the Project: Utopia records.  The damage to his helmet was mucking up the connection, though, and no results yet.  He resolved to put a backup device in his pack later.

Once he had the images he needed, he removed the helmet, flashed a winning smile, and set the girl on her feet.  "Hey, we're going to get you someplace safe.  Right now we're going back that way.  Our new friend Joe is back there."  He fiddled around in his pockets and pouches for a few moments, then pulled out a small metal cylinder with a spray nossel that read 'Liquid Knuckles' on the side.  "Here, if anyone scares you, just tell 'em you'll spay 'em with this."

"Rashoud Centers the way to do it.  They've got resources to help her.  Never seen a nova so young, though."  They walked back.  "We really ought to question that last elite guy.  Just none of the rough stuff in front of our friend..." he shook the last of the alcohol haze off and realized he hadn't even asked.

"Hey buddy: you have a name?  Any idea why those guys were chasing you?"

When they came around the corner, Johnny gave Joe a thumbs up and a silent Thank You.  Dude, you're alright.  Amazing how expressive a thumb can be.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
OOC: Burning 1 quantum for First Impression to win the hearts and minds of Americas youth.  Or at least this one kid.  Who is probably American.

---

"Well, looks like the bang bang brigade is back. I uh, hope you don't err...get thrown in a Turkish prison or something? Y'know, nice American one or something - with television and hot water 'n stuff."

He started to hold out his hand to help the man up out of long habit then paused, chagrined.

"Sorry. Forget sometimes I'd frag your pain receptors. Most people aren't into that. Terri's a peach."

He turned to the two Novas.

"Someone with a lot of tug's off on this. Four of them? In downtown Las Vegas? This guy says," he thumbed his 'prisoner' "he's done some things here before, but that might just be his brass chatting."

He followed it up with talking directly to the girl.

"So they must be pretty scared of you. Are you scary? I bet you won't believe this, but I kind of know what that's like if you wanna talk a little while these nice men... do something."

"It's ... complicated.  We're not all evil, and Utopia's done a lot of good."  He frowned inwardedly as the tourists began to close in.  "Give me a minute.  Don't run off."

Daphne got to watch as he smiled, glad-handed, and even signed some photos and posed for pictures, becoming a completely different and very public person.  But his paranoia was growing; this would cut down on his available time something considerable.  The photos would probably get flagged by the Directive or Proteus soon, and he didn't want to be here when they figured out there was an unidentified woman in the photos with him.  He remembered that Frostburn and Dr. Zero used to obsess over little details like that.  Someone would figure it out.  He started heading toward the Archon -- neutral ground, out of sight -- then thought the better of it.  Out of sight of baselines meant in focus for novas, even Proteus.

"Enjoy Las Vegas everyone!  Thank you!  I have to go."  Hopefully, that would satisfy them and keep them from following.  He turned to Daphne and pointed down the street.  "Come on.  Let's get out of here.  Gale will find us."  His metal skin seeped out through the flesh as he walked, giving him a steel-gray complexion.  "Utopia has the world's best interests at heart.  But they've got a few skeleton in the closet.  We've parted ways.  And Laura I haven't talked with much, but I've met her.  And she probably knows by now that I'm getting a healthy suspicion for the way Rashoud Centers are run.  So that's why she's good people.  She's not forcing a choice on you just because she still does some work for them."

Rather than heading north, Dllon turned left and took them toward Industrial Road.  He had a plan.  Sadly, it didn't involve sight seeing.  "So ... trains don't bother you.  You can't eat or drink.  And you're wearing the same clothes as the night you erupted.  But you're still alive."  he gave her a reassuring grin.  "Feel like you've lost your mind yet?"
This message was last updated by the player at 17:43, Thu 26 Sept 2013.

In reply to Johnny Afterburner (msg # 145):

Just beginning to calm down, cassia's panic returned at the mention of the rashoud facility.  "No, no rashoud! They'll find me again!" Her voice was light, and her accent was a blend of Mexican and Texan. She squirmed in her rescuer's arms as she shouted. Turning to joe she pleaded, "don't let them take me!"

"Whoa hey kid, alright!  No one's taking you to a Rashoud Center if you don't want to go."  He frowned.  Just half an hour ago he was having a good time with Paidrag, and now his night was getting more complicated by the moment.

Daphne waited patiently for Dillon to do the whole celebrity bit. Having been around Laura and reporters enough Daphne knew how to mostly stay out of sight, but even with a small group of people that was difficult when pictures were being taken.

Daphne follows Dillon down the road. Daphne laughs a little at Dillon's question. " You can add can't smell  much, can't hear much and can't feel what I am touching at all to that list. Though Laura promises that once she can wrangle up a set of eufiber for me I will be able to change clothes, well at least how it appears. Seeing her eufiber for the first time was really weird. Truth be told though I lost my mind after being hit by that train. Well really once my parents disowned me I lost it, but I have been steadily trying to gain it back and you're right I am alive"

Daphne looks up at the sky for a second before continuing. "To be honest though, after that first night I had wished I was dead. I even tried more than a few times. I should have known better, but hey I was never the brightest kid. My goodness I am doing it again... rambling on. So if not Utopia how does one learn to be one of us. That is something Laura has been trying to help me with, but the doctors and trainers she introduces me to just don't seem to click with me. Unfortunately when that happens I have a bad habit of shutting down and not responding to them like I would... like I am with you. One of them told Laura I was autistic and another said sociopathic. She kind of ignored them."

Dillon nodded.  "I know how that is.  Not many people know this, but I can't smell or taste anything.  Lost those pretty early on to, uh," he gestured at his forehead to indicate the node.  "Not sure if I can die either.  The metal keeps me alive."  He ran a hand over his head, an old habit that had cropped back up.  In about a month, he'd turn thirty.  His almost-parental sympathy for the girl's plight was overwhelming common sense.  He didn't know much of anything about Daphne yet, but he was ready to offer her a way out.

He took a deep breath.  "You really don't watch the news much, do you?"
This message was last edited by the player at 19:54, Thu 26 Sept 2013.

Dragón cast a side-long glance at Suzukaze then turned back to Operator.  "Keep your head down and your ears open," he said, tapping the headset of his comm.  Then he shifted his eufiber to a dark, flat color that would blend in with the night sky and launched straight into the air.  About 300 feet up he shifted over so he could look straight down on the club's roof until he spotted the hidden guard on the roof.  Dropping silently behind him, he put him down with a precision strike, relieved him of any weapon or radio, and flex-cuffed him to a handy bit of architecture.  Once he had the roof to himself, he set about locating the best way through it.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:56, Thu 26 Sept 2013.

Joe sighed. He looked at the mad Irishman and friend and shrugged.

"Look... I was having a terrible time inside anyways. I can call up my girlfriend and get her to come out here? She's better with kids than I am... unless they're into scary movies ..."

"You guys need to do whatever you gotta do with um, 'leetburger and his pals. If the girl wants to stay with me? She can stay. I got nothing important to do right now."

He turned to the girl.

"First we need to have a long talk about your parents before we go anywhere, I'm sorry if that's not a conversation you want to have or if you think I'm prying, but it's the right thing to do. After that, if I'm satisfied with your answers? All I can really promise you is is a lot of quiet. You need some time to think, catch your breath? I dig that. I got that. Um, I'm not one of those guys with his own private island and a basement full of video games either. If you're just skipping school, looking for a handout? There's probably a dozen people inside that would do that better than me... I can afford to take my girlfriend here every so often. It was a stretch to get the plane tickets."

"And uh, a heads up about who's after you would be nice too? This guy here convinced me it wasn't for an Amber Alert, but that's still a lot of room for what and what for, right?"

Calming again with the promise that she wouldn't be turned over to the authorities, Cassia assessed the situation, intelligence showing in her eyes, in the way she glanced at all the important details of the scene.  She wasn't escaping, and if these were just people willing to help, she would get more by cooperating.

Her voice was hoarse from screaming and from fatigue, it took her a few tries before she could start talking.  "Like Matilda."  At the look of confusion from the men, she explained.  "I heard what you asked him.  I answered your question."  She pushed her long hair, filthy from whatever adventures had brought her to this point, away from her face.

"My parents told me that I was always different, even when I was little.  I learned fast, knew things.  It was hard for them.  I was hard for them. Then, last year I started to see things... Mama thought I was crazy, and papa just ignored it.  But when things started moving on their own, or just disappearing, they couldn't ignore that.  So they took me to a clinic, where the doctor told them I had to be a nova.  That's when they took me to the Rashoud center."

She grew visibly agitated, but she continued. "The doctors were confused, I'm not sure why, but then some other people came and took me.  Things happened, they told me things I didn't understand, something tried to get in my head, in my mind.  Then I wished I was somewhere else, and I was.  I've been running ever since.  I tried to go home, but..."  She cried again, the memory was too much for her.  "They didn't remember me!  And THEY were waiting for me at the house!" She was referring to the elites.  If her accent was any indicator, they had chased her a long way from home.

"Tha's quite the story, lil' one," Paidrag said.  "'An we're nay gonna tek ye' nowheres ye' don' wanna go, othewise we're jus' like them fools tha' was huntin ye'. So, if no Rashoud, then prolly no 'Topia neither, since they n' they 'r in bed all cuddled up like."  He paused, thinking, clearly an act that was inherently unnatural, "There's powerful few places tha' you'll be safe from someone tha' can hire nova muscle, e'en sec'n rate muscle like those louts.  If not 'Topia, then how 'bout DeVries.  Run by a nova, an' Lady Anna be powerful loyal to her people.  She'll take care of ya, right as rain."
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:26, Fri 27 Sept 2013.

Joe's brow furrowed. He also was obviously not used to thinking very much.

"You're a girl who doesn't exist, being chased by people who make people forget, running to somewhere you don't know?" he scratched his chin before softly cursing in heavily accented Greek. He sighed and let it roll off of him. Nothing to be done, just let it all happen -

"So Little Ghost... tell us what you'd like to happen and we'll see about shaking the world until the sunlight shines again."

"I just said it was all right, didn't I?"  Poor kid.  Still caught up in Prodigal's cult.  But she knew better than to take that from him.  She also ignored everything Prodigal said, sparing him only a scathing glance.

"You have to guard someone who needs protecting.  I can't give you a name, but I'm sure you'll know that person when you meet them.  Someone who can't fight for themselves."  She shrugged.  "I know that's not much, but life doesn't tend to work that way."
This message was last updated by the GM at 12:37, Fri 27 Sept 2013.

Johnny elbowed Paidrag.  Despite the girl's apparently superb hearing, he whispered.  "What, are you crazy?  The same agency that hires out the elites, and we're going to send her over there?  At best, they'll raise her as an agent.  At worst, Anna will trade her for a payout the first chance she gets."

"Those curd dripping trout troughs? DeVries? Don' make me laugh, boyo.  You'n me trounced four of 'em in a shake of a parson's dick.  Them was DeVries Elites like that poser Olympian is Impetus.  Serious like, there's 2 diff'rn branches o' DeVries, combat elites like me, and a whole 'nuther branch of law boys, artistes, scientists, companions an' the like.  An' ain't nobody nohow snatchin' no lil' girl outa the Pretoria compound, no way." Paidrag whispered back, "But, i's t' young lassie's choice like." He said at normal volume, "Who'd ye' feel safe with, lassie?  Ain' no ner'do'wells gonna cause you no grief while me'n th' All Muric'n Patriot r' breathin like.  We'll get you somewhere where you feel safe 's 'ouses."

In reply to Wheelman (msg # 159):

"Can I just stay with you all for a while? You're the only ones that have tried to help me."

Daphne shrugs at Dillon's question. "I've been watching it more now that I have a place to live, but it still isn't something I enjoy. Back home, I never watched the news. It wasn't something I really cared to do. I wanted to hang out with my friends more and my parents didn't really encourage watching TV. Looking back on it, I know it was to limit exposure to the real world, for fear of nova influence. My community and family did a great job at keeping us insulated from outside influences. I knew of novas and if I tried I bet I could throw out a name or two, but some of that would be from more recent events."

Daphne looked down at the ground as she continued speaking. "I spent most of my life hearing about how Novas are horrible evil people with satanic influence. I guess I never completely bought into it, but it is still hard to not think that way at least a little bit. I know I'm not evil and wasn't before this, but man brainwashing kids is a good way to mess with them for life."

Daphne looks up at Dillon and smiles. "Though if you were asking because your curious if I recognized you, I do now that we have been talking a bit. I wasn't sure at first because most of what I have seen you in is older footage and your wearing a more pedestrian outfit than I would have expected. I can't put a name to you, sorry not that good at all this yet. I know you once were a member of... team tomorrow. You know whats really weird, I think I can count on one hand the number of times I had heard of Team Tomorrow." Daphne bits her lip and looks as if she is actually counting in her head.

In reply to Baroness (msg # 143):

Phantasm only smiled at Shrapnel's insults.  The terat was prey, and the only thing that saved Shrapnel from an untimely death was the arrival of the other Pantheon members.  No need to let the Dominion leader know that though.  There would be other opportunities after all.

Instead of joining the argument that was taking place, Phantasm chose to entertain herself with the little gremlin on the bar.  Her aura of screaming souls blazed into ephemeral life, startling the other patrons as a hideous little demon took shape inside it before leaping out onto the recently vacated seat of Baroness.  The creature had a bit of consciousness, stolen from her various victims.  "Go, play."

"Little lady, I couldn't protect you, couldn't get you home, and I live on a boat that's usually out in the middle of the ocean somewhere. And these gentlemen are hammered."

"I think we need to find you someone more responsible and capable of attending a young girl than any of us."

Johnny didn't let on that he'd snapped photos.  With his OpNet connection busted, Utopia wouldn't know immediately.  Still ...

"Responsible?  Pff.  Kid, you're welcome to crash at Casa de Johnny.  Problem being, that's up north at the Upie base."  At least until the move down to Mexico City's done.  "So ... in the absence of anyplace else, let me make a call."  A few smooth moves later and he was borrowing a pedestrian's cell phone and placing a call for the low price of two or three selfies with nova groupies.  Only one stupid sonovabitch in town I can trust with this one.

"Come on, Dragon, pick up the damn phone ... hey hoss!  It's Johnny.  This better not be a cute voice mail message, 'cuz I've got a weird story for you."  If El Dragón picked up, Johnny would give him the quick version of events and ask if they could bring their new little friend by his place.

"Hey guys," he turned back to Joe and Mechanus.  "Don't let the suspect leave yet, okay?"  He shot the detained elite a look that said I will find you, and end you if I have to.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:32, Sat 28 Sept 2013.

She wasn't lying.  This was one sheltered kid.  "No, I get it.  Borderline Michaelist upbringing.  But I don't really care if you recognize me.  I'm more surprised that anyone stateside still keeps their kids that cut off."  There were a few places that tried to skip the nova age.  Dial-up internet instead of eufiber cable.  Television censorship or bans.  Big churches and big congregations.  This girl didn't have a home anymore.

"Well Daphne, I'm Dillon.  And you've met me at a weird place in my life.  And you seem to be in a weird spot yourself."  He gave a reassuring smile.  "I've been where you are.  If you've got questions about being a nova, I'll answer them.  Or find someone who can."

"Meanwhile, we're heading over there for one of the better views of the skyline."  As they came around the corner from the Bellagio, he pointed toward the Rio.  They still had to cross an overpass and navigate a few crossings, but they needed some time to talk anyway.  "I was born in one of the small towns north of here, but this city's mine.  So I'll make sure you get to see the good parts and we'll try to skip past the crap."

Paidrag nodded and glowered ominously at the (conscious) hostage.  "Ye try to run an ye'll wind up inna same place as ye will if'n ye sit quiet like.  You'll have a few more broken bone though.  Your choice."

"Johnny!  It's good to hear your voice," Dragón said.  As he listened to Johnny's story, a look of concern crept onto his face.  "Absolutely, bring her on by.  I don't have a lot in the way of creature comforts at the moment, but I can give her a roof over her head and plenty to eat."  He quickly provided directions and hung up the phone.  He drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly as he looked around at his bare floors and decided lack of furniture.  If I'm gonna have a little house guest, I'm gonna need to change a few things.  He remade the bed and pulled a sleeping bag out of the closet for himself.  Then, as he waited, he sat back down at his computer and got back to the writing assignment for his Creative Writing class.

"Well, since you all seem to have things in hand I think I'm going to get going."

He turned to the captive Elite.

"Nice to have met you. Please don't attack minors anymore."

Inside he struggled to find Terri and hurried her out of the building.

"Let's get home. I don't know how you convinced me to come to Vegas, but let's try to forget this place even exists, okay? A guy can't even loiter without running into six novas and a felony."

Cassia turned to watch the giant walk back to the club.  "I..." Coughing shook her thin body as she raised her voice.  "Thank you!"  She didn't know who he was, and he frightened her, but he had helped defend her too.  No one had done that in a long time.

Looking at the two young nova hotshots that had saved her, Cassia couldn't help but be disappointed when they said she would have to go somewhere else.  But she didn't have other options, and she trusted them more than she probably should have.  Face downcast, she nodded.  "Si.  Yes.  I will go."

Chance Meetings
Joe received a grunt from his elite hostage before walking back into the club.  Not a very rewarding conversationalist, that one.  Inside, the music was deafening, and the press of bodies made it dangerous for Joe to walk, or more precisely it was dangerous to others for him to walk.  After finally making his way to Terri, he found her with a far too attractive nova woman easily recognizable as Narcosis, one of the more popular media faces for the Teragen movement.  Joe's altered physiology made him resistant to the woman's namesake abilities, but Terri was not blessed with his resilience and was experiencing a potent dose of Narcosis's pheromone cloud.

---

With Joe's exit, the elite that was still conscious took the opportunity to bargain.  "Ya know, my friends, they gonna wake up soon.  And ya don't really want us talkin' ta no one, not with what we've seen, not if ya wanna keep the girl safe.  I'm willin' ta call this'un a' wash.  Ya'll can just take off, I'll scrape them off o' the pavement, everyone walks away happy."

Time was passing quickly, and if the men wanted to get Cassia to Dragon safely, they had a limited window in which to act.


Debts Paid
Belphegor nodded slowly, as though he had received advice of great worth.  "It is little to go on, but enough to guide my path.  I will puzzle out the meaning of your words. Thank you."  Prodigal, his stern demeanor breaking momentarily, actually rolled his eyes and shook his head in exasperation.  Belphegor did not notice, and moved close to his escort.  "Until we meet again."  A cloud of foul vapors was the only evidence that the two had been there.  The waitstaff seemed not to notice any of the exchange, as they moved in and refilled Gale's water.

---

Outside the Bellagio, the strip was slowly becoming more crowded as the afternoon lull passed and early evening tourists resumed their sightseeing.

Strained Relationships
Shrapnel laughed.  It was a grating noise, metal on metal, and it echoed strangely.  "Really?  I should care about how our actions look to baselines?  And you talk about the laws we've "thrown off" even as you try to make new laws to bind our kind.  You are a hypocrite, just like the rest of your friends.  But let no one say I'm not reasonable, that I'm too biased to adapt.  You've heard we're planning something, so others may have too.  There aren't enough of us for a full scale war, not yet, and we need troops more than we need to make a statement.  We'll abandon our plans, take a different approach, something more... subtle."  Her smile was unsettling, and held the promise of future complications, but she seemed genuine in calling off the planned Dominion attack.

---

Matador bowed.  "I am an excellent dancer, though this noise is far from my taste in music.  We will make our own music, yes?"  He gripped her hand tightly, pulling her in close.  He began a slow tango in the midst of the crowd, moving perfectly to a music only he seemed to hear.  The crowd jeered and snickered lightly at the start, but they were quieted by the grace of his movements and the hypnotic sound of his footfalls as he slammed his heels down to set a rhythm for Baroness to follow. He was showing off, but wasn't that what being a nova was all about?

---

The two little monsters hated each other at first sight.  Glowing green ectoplasm and gobbets of flesh stained the bar as the constructs tore at each other.  Exhausted and realizing it was far too much effort to kill each other, the two happily scampered off into the crowd together to make mischief.  Crawling up legs, spilling drinks, property damage, fun was had by all.  Or just by them actually, but that was really all that mattered to the little monsters anyway.

Thieves in the Night
Angelo disabled the baseline guard with skill and alacrity, but his years of training warned him that something wasn't right.  The wind from Suzukaze's passage was the only warning he had as glowing quantum blades flashed against the dark Russian sky.  The unpredictable assassin chose to attack while his back was turned... But it wasn't Dragon she was attacking.  Her blades pinned a nearly invisible nova to the stairway access door, sizzling and crackling slightly as they cauterized the camouflaged nova's wounds.  She whispered something unintelligible into her victims ear, then turned to Dragon and smiled.  "We see them in the dark, watching.  Our eyes shine bright, as the light dims in theirs."  Her blades were still buried in the guards torso.

Ignoring the unnerving actions of his teammate for the moment as he scanned for a way in, Dragon could tell that the stairwell would be a mistake.  Too visible, too many guards.  His best bet was to cut a hole in the roof, and climb across the ceiling to his target.  No one ever looked up.

Joe approached the two women with a scowl.

"Terri! I see you've met us a new friend," Joe said with a smile. He didn't truly properly have bones any longer, but the coral formations that served shifted and ripped through Joe's shirt in sharp, nasty looking spikes.

"Hi, I'm Joe. I bite," he said, extending a hand and looming.

Chance Meetings
Narcosis almost took the offered hand, then thought better of it.  She quickly took in Joe's posture and smiled.  "I am so sorry, I didn't know she was yours.  Please, let me buy you two a drink."  She turned to flag down someone to take an order.  "Get these two whatever they want to drink, put it on my tab."  Another winning smile directed toward Joe, completely ignoring Terri.  "I can leave you two alone, if you prefer.  I'd love to stay and talk though, you're the most interesting nova I've seen all night."

"No, I'm not. And we're leaving, I just remembered someone's grandmother died and we need to wash her hair."

He turned to Terri.

"This place is boring, let's get out of here? If I stay here any longer I think someone might die."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 20:06, Sat 28 Sept 2013.

"Well I appreciate you showing me around your city and offering to answer my questions. Its nice to have more people willing to help get me back on my feet"

Daphne smiled to her self and tried to hide her giddiness at Dillon's response. She also started to notice the sudden surge in pedestrian traffic around her, making her somewhat nervous about all the people around her. "I've never been to the Rio, then again I haven't really been to any of the Casinos other than the Palms with Laura for fashion week. That wasn't too bad of an event, it was hard dealing with all the press though. So are you not worried about Gale being back there alone with those two?"

"You're missing the point with regard to laws we make ourselves. The Null Manifesto itself alludes to such a situation. And, yes, what baselines think does matter. For the moment they outnumber us by something like 1.3 million to 1. Even if we're a million times more powerful than they are individually - and we're not, on average - they still have the edge. Right now they control the planet. That may change in the future, but this is now." He held up his damaged right hand, "And I don't know about you, but I'm not eager to survive another nuclear blast."

He sighed, "Anyway. It seems we've gotten what we came for, even if for the wrong reasons." He looked from Phantasm to Solitaire and back to Shrapnel, "I go as I came, in peace." With that, he turned to leave. He knew he wasn't particularly welcome there, while his two former teammates may be somewhat more able to stay without causing undue strife - if they chose to do so.

Sensing trouble, Dragón stood up from his examination of the roof and started scanning back and forth, using his ears and nose as well, trying to find where the danger was.  Suzukaze's sudden passage startled him enough that he turned toward her with a quick snap and rolled back into a well-braced stance.  "Thank you for the assist," he said, though he found it difficult to put any real feeling into his words.

Discarding the obvious stairway, he scanned the roof under his feet to determine where the structural supports were.  He chose a square area between supports then formed a micro-thin force field "blade" and used it to cut through the roof.  Lifting the chunk of roof material up slowly, he canceled out the thumping sound of the club's music and listened for sounds of nearby movement.  If he heard nothing, he shifted his eufiber to a color pattern suitable for the darkness below him, then floated slowly down into the ceiling space and took a good look around before he moved anywhere.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
18:29, Sat 28 Sept 2013: El Dragon rolled 2 3 successes using 7d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 ((8,3,3,5,1,10,5)) Activate boost, making my M-Str and M-Sta both 5.

---

This message was last edited by the player at 01:13, Tue 01 Oct 2013.

Baroness ran her finger across her lips, catching the knuckle in her teeth for a brief moment in appreciation of Matador's words and display. She let herself be pulled in with a smirk, pressing up against him. She was able to hold her own in the dance. While she was clearly not trained in dance, nor gifted with Nova level grace, she was still fluid in her motion. She could anticipate his movements and followed without hesitation. What was clear was that there was no move that seemed to fatigue her, even in her impressive heels, instead seeming no less under exertion than on a light stroll through the woods. She let her eyes grace the crowd, daring them to watch and be awed and jealous in turn. She chose the role of the rose, allowing Matador to turn her about in display for the crowd of his abilities and her beauty.

She ran her hand across Matador's shoulder and down to rest on his arm as they turned, catching sight of Gravitas' movement to leave. She looked back to Matador and stared into his eyes, seeming to need only them--unfazed by his mask. "You are, indeed, excellent. A warrior and an artist. I've not had such fun since my rebirth," she said with a full laugh, letting her hair shake about her face as they spun in another flourish--pressing close to him once more and reveling in the tension she so easily juggled, continuing on just before the moment reached its peak, "But tell me, if you would. What do you think of Gravitas? And I mean truly--I have no doubt of your loyalties. But as one man, one fighter, of another--What do you think of him?"

" Blackmail? Ye' stupid sod! Y'ain't no elite, yer jus' hired mooks wif a bit o' extra gristle in yer custard! I've got yer ugly mugs stored in me' hard drive," he tapped a squarish bulge in his jacket, " An' we're canny t' yer coney, an' we know tha' ther ain't nobody nowheres tha' hires a flaccid han'ful o' mooks like ye' t' kidnap no child tha' wan's the world gettin no eyeful o' their knicker drawer, innit!? Ye'll be deed afore ye' get downa stairs o' the courthouse, ye feking imbicile!  An e'en if ye do survive, which ah doubt, ye'll never find no work anywheres af'er ye' turn stoolie on the han' at feeds ya! Go righ' on ahead, flap yer yapper! See how far it gets ye!"  Paidrag wasn't about to tell the man that he was going to upload their pictures anyways, such unprofessionalism and gratuitous lack of talent sullied the names of elites everywhere. He looked to Johnny, " This fella', Dragon, tha's tha same 'un wif th' burns, yeh? Solid bloke tha', real standup fellah, i hear. Ye stay here an' deal wif the coppers an cam'ras, s'wha they pay ye' th' big bucks fer.  I'll escort t' young lassie t' Dragon, safe as houses." He looked to Cassia, " Now then, lil 'un, ahm jus' gonna change inna yer own pers'n'l carriage, like, then we'll get ye gone from here an inna safe hands away from these dingleberries." No sooner had he finished speaking than he shifted into his robot form, glared a remarkably expressive "bust my apple sack 'bout this inna future an' it's bloody on, innit?!" look at Johnny, and shifted again into something that looked suspiciously like Cinderella's magic pumpkin carriage, only with rather beefy tires, a shining white and chrome engine on the back, and with tinted black windows.  One of the doors swung open, revealing a plush pink satin interior, Paidrag's voice emanated from somewhere on the vehicle, "Le's go, lassie, time's a wastin'"

Gale didn't know if Prodigal was rolling his eyes at her or at Belphegor.  It didn't matter much, but she smiled inwardly at the thought that Prodigal was annoyed by the pupil he had worked so hard to get.  She finished her drink, settled the bill, and then headed out to go see where Comstock had taken Daphne.

On the street, not seeing them immediately, and wanting to avoid the crowds, she took to the air.
This message was last updated by the player at 03:49, Sun 29 Sept 2013.

Coming to terms with the shroud of bullshit and confusion he had just invoked, Operator regained some functionality. He would be at 50% or less while keeping up the shroud, but it could make the difference between success or failure. He gritted his teeth in frustration as his team flew into their mission, while he scaled down the side of the building and worked his way to the fire escape. Climbing the side of the building was an option, but this would work fine. He nodded at a couple club goers and a guard who noticed him, and then didn't, as there was nothing to see. Operator reflected on his years of wet work, the careful preparations, the precision insertion, execution, and extraction, the backups for backups, then his time out there on the edge, running from everyone and everything, making split decisions every day, chasing a pair of long legs...

The rooftop. In all his years as a first class, Tier One operator he never thought he'd be chasing his team who could fly. El Dragon was descending into the cacophanous pit of rapture, while Suzukaze was morbidly drinking blood or whatever. There was only so much a sane person could enjoy killing another human being, and that amount was nil. Operator silently but decisively marked Suzukaze as a PROBLEM, and one that would eventually have to be dealt with.

At the edge of the opening the mixture of his own field of mis-information, combined with the rising column of sweat, cigarette smoke, booze, and other body fluids, the noise, and the flashing lights sent Operator reeling.

"Jonas! What do we do?"

Staff Sergeant Jonas Black hugged the ground, the stench of jungle, death, and cordite filled his nose. Panic, crying, and gunfire filled his ears. He wanted more than anything to be anywhere but here. The LT next to him was panicking hard. Jonas met his gaze. He looked like a kid. He was just a kid. These joint operations were always tricky, but here was a bonafide british aristocrat who happened to make it through 22-SAS and into this hellhole. Jonas felt nausea coming on. Had to stifle it. No time for biology, he had to fight his way out of here.

"Ditch the package. Give them what they want. Our secondary evac is in less than an hour and is five kliks from here. Let's GO LT."

The lieutenant shook his head.

"We're not ditching the package. I'm not letting this mission fail! We are going to secure that..."

A wet pop accompanied a spray of pink. The LT was gone now too. Just Jonas then. He grabbed the silver briefcase. The gunfire was drawing closer; he had precious little space to work in. He opened it up in spite of being told not to. A laptop. There were few cargoes he hated as much as a laptop. There could be anything on it, and there was no way to tell. Crypto-drives and hidden sectors meant that even if he had time to go through it he would never be certain that he had found what was really on it. Only one way to be sure that it was gone. He pulled the pin on his Thermite grenade and dropped it into the briefcase, slammed it closed, and threw it over the mound towards his assailants. 3 to 5 seconds would be all he had. One. Two. Three. Four. The gunfire stopped. Shouts in whatever language they were speaking followed. This was his only shot. He leapt from his cover and ran as hard as he could into the woods. He shook out of his backpack and dropped his primary weapon. Five. The cries from behind him indicated that the Thermite grenade was going off, melting the laptop, case, and hands of anyone unfortunate enough to be holding it. Evidence destroyed. The gunfire resumed only a breath later. Whatever he had just annihilated, it was important to the enemy, and important to the Army. LT Dalton would be held posthumously accountable for mission failure, which was fine by Jonas.

A bullet tagged Operator.

He hit the jungle floor. All that...for this. Blood welled out of his abdomen. They were still coming. With his left hand he compressed his wound, with his right he drew his sidearm and squeezed off a few suppressed shots at the oncoming wave of militia. They didn't return fire. That was the worst thing they could have done. They kept cover while he panic fired the rest of his magazine, and then were on him like locusts.

"If we can't trade encryption key, we can trade YOU, American!"

Operator lay on his back behind an air conditioning vent, his hand shaking and clutching his pistol. It was warm in his hand, and the end of his suppressor smoked. Had he been firing it? Had he hit someone? He was in a cold sweat. He felt much of his mind still occupied with maintaining the information screen. At least it had probably not gone down. He checked his clip...empty. He reloaded and checked his surroundings. The hot casings were scattered over the roof to his right. He gathered them up. .45 ACP casings DID NOT need to be found at the scene. He swallowed hard. His abdomen hurt, was that a memory? He checked himself. A few scars from the bullet and the torture, but no fresh wounds. At the opening in the roof that El Dragon had magically made, the hispanic Ranger was still descending into the club stew. Operator steeled himself. Keep it together. People were counting on him, people whose trust he had yet to earn. Wallowing and panic firing into empty distance was no way for an operator to behave. With any luck, the other two were involved in the mission and didn't notice. With a flush in his cheeks, he realized that this sort of display was exactly why he considered Suzukaze a problem. He resolved to revoke that designation for the time being, given that he had reasons to be understanding about her...issues. Perhaps they had something in common, perhaps all three of them did. Only time and trust would tell.

Lowering himself down into the building, most of Dragón's focus was downward, listening for sounds of movement nearby.  In his mind, he edited out the sound of the music and the buzz of voices, so that all he could hear from below was the shuffling of feet.  Suddenly, the staccato thumping of a suppressed .45 brought his head up with a snap.  He saw Operator lying behind the air conditioning unit with his pistol clenched in a shaking fist and beads of sweat building up on his face.

Caramba! he thought, what a time for a flashback.  He started to yell at Operator for leaving his cover position, but thought better of it.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
20:39, Mon 30 Sept 2013: El Dragon rolled 8 9+1=10 (Natural Leader) successes using 11d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 ((8,5,3,9,7,4,10,7,9,9,9)) For a Command roll.

---

"Easy soldier," Dragón said into his comm, "take a few deep breaths and get your bearings.  You can do this."

Turning his attention downward again, he lowered himself onto the metal skeleton of the club's ceiling.

Operator nodded in acknowledgement and thanks to El Dragon. Of course the man would understand. Man? By comparison, El Dragon was a god. And Operator was overawed to work alongside him.

"You lead the way, Ranger."

The understanding El Dragon had shown washed over Operator, and his authority helped clear his mind. Focus on the non-sense storm and the mission, worry about Nigeria, Cambodia, Laos, and everywhere else, later. Operator kept his mind open, telepathically, for those thoughts that would betray novas and others involved in the nefarious activities of the evening. His best bet for getting through this was staying useful and staying alive.

Captive Audience
As the police, a military nova response unit, paramedics, and others converged on the scene, Serenade and Kraken's lovely concert came to a close.  The next 6 hours were spent giving statements, spinning the situation for the media, and attempting to make the fiasco less of a disaster.

In the wake of the night's events, Impetus took a mild dip in the polls, Serenade's latest album showed a 62% increase in sales, and KHI stock held steady despite a massive growth in the recent Kraken Wear apparel line.  The media continued to replay the night's events for several weeks, but coverage declined after pictures of cats dressed as T2M:A heroes took the opnet by storm.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
and that's a wrap

---

Chance Meetings
Cassia giggled at Paidrag's efforts, momentarily forgetting her disappointment as she climbed in to the vehicle.

The one elite still conscious looked at Paidrag with confusion before turning to look at Johnny as the pumpkin roadster drove off.  "Uh, so did that stream o' words mean I can take off, or what?"

---

Inside the Archon, Terri groggily agreed that it was time to go home.  Narcosis smirked at the big man as he hauled away his pet.  "Have a fun time, sorry you couldn't stay and play."

---

The drive was a long one, and Cassia was asleep before the car had even left Las Vegas.  265 miles and one very unnerving visit to a McDonalds drive-through later, the pair were parked outside Casa Devarga.

Debts Paid
Gale easily sighted Dillon and Daphne from her elevated vantage point, and was also rewarded with a view of the new Las Vegas, illuminated by the low-hanging sun.  The two were talking as they moved toward another of the strip's attractions.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Feel free to continue this as long as you want, but unless people do something crazy, my narration isn't needed here any longer.

---

Strained Relationships
With Gravitas's exit, a palpable tension and anticipation left the building with him.  The crowd seemed simultaneously relieved and disappointed that a conflict was avoided.  Solitaire was left without her ride, but as everyone was well aware, she could get around just fine on her own.  As she floated casually above her bar stool, the two gremlins terrorizing the room maneuvered themselves to drop a light fixture on her from above.

Matador, swept up in the dance and Baroness's words, was taken aback by the question about another man.  "I-- You share a passionate dance with a man, and then you slap him in the face with another man's name?!" The tone masked some genuine hurt, but was mostly machismo and showmanship.  He laughed loudly as he spun her once.  "You really wish to know?" he said quietly into her ear.  "While children may move past their parents, only a fool shows them no respect.  He was a founder of this grand movement, and as he showed against Geryon, he is a ferocious opponent.  Not that I would even blink at the prospect of opposing him, if only I could draw your affections away from that unfeeling man.  He has eyes only for his laboratory you know."  There was a smile under the mask as he continued to flirt.

Thieves in the Night
The man at the door flinched at the sound of gunfire and moved to investigate.  He returned to his post moments later though, as the world dismissed the gunshots as irrelevant.  Operator caught his breath as he moved into position to provide backup for El Dragon.

Angelo, meanwhile, was crawling slowly and stealthily across the ceiling toward his targets.  Between his sharp senses and a bit of telepathic direction from Operator, Dragon pinpointed the  area where the men were, the second floor of a large two story office in the center of the building.  The sound of arguing voices speaking in Spanish wafted up to Angelo.  "But Jefe, we've been waiting for over an hour--"  "We wait!"  "But they disrespect us, they disrespect you..." "Still, there is more at stake here."  New voices joined the conversation, English with a Chinese accent.  "You have it?  Let's make this fast."
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:22, Wed 02 Oct 2013.

Baroness laughed, throwing her head about during the dance at the hint of hurt from the gruff nova. She smiled back to him, soothing him by running her hand down his arm, "Oh dear--I meant no disrespect. I simply didn't think my words could scratch a man like yourself." She listened politely, keeping the small smile at her lips as she continued to let him move her about in their dance, letting the smile turn to a smirk at his obvious flirtations "Oh, is that so? Well, you mustn't worry. My interest in him is just as--clinical."

She raised her hand up and ran one of her fingernails gently across the back of the man's neck, where his mask met skin, "But let's talk about you then. I'll tempt the bull and ask about your beautiful mask. Do you always keep it on?" She said with a wink. As she turned about she cast a quick glance back to Solitaire and Phantasm to show she hadn't forgotten about them--though she didn't notice just what mischief her homunculus was up to.
This message was last updated by the player at 04:40, Wed 02 Oct 2013.

Two hours after he'd left Johnny and the muppet, Paidrag pulled into the driveway of casa devarga. When he was within 50 feet of the house he stopped, headlights on, waiting for the occupant of the house to come outside. As he pulled in he spoke to Cassia. "Time t'wake, little one, we're here." He gently increased the interior lighting as she woke up. "Now, this here Drag'n chappie, he's as solid as they come, or so me sources tell me. He'll treat ya right an' keep ya safe, y'hear? An' I ain't outa yer life neither, Ah'll check in on ya regular like."

Chance Meetings


Johnny wasn't the smartest man in the world.  But his mind worked fast.  He'd returned the smart phone to its owner and there was a lull in passers-by.    Carefully, he replaced his helmet.  "Yeah, about that ..."

Without another word, he turned in one smooth motion and fired from his wrist a six-inch long self-propelled missile.  It struck the elite and injected a combination of mox, procaine, morphine, and some sort of nova-class barbituate -- Johnny didn't claim to understand how it worked, but he was told it was similar to nimetazepam.  The elite slumped to the street.  Johnny watched, ready to fire a different, more explosive weapon if it turned out that this one had developed an immunity to the Triton Foundation's pharmacological wonders or a secret force field or some other power to negate 'the Tooth'.

He calmly checked on whether he'd managed to transmit anything to the OpNet while he waited (he hadn't).  A minute went by, and he waived off some other pedestrians and fans with some line about a crime scene or official business, and organized the photos and other information.  He zipped, encrypted, and hid the folder with the photos, then pulled his helmet off to manually screw up his OpNet connection a little more.  Best to make things believeable.

Five minutes passed.  Johnny was confident now that the elite was either a very successful actor or fully unconscious.  If he was unconscious he was unlikely to recover without medical assistance.  So Johnny cuffed the nova, activated an emergency tracker, and checked the novas pulse while police and utopia security were dispatched.  Then he delivered a brutal kick to the man's prone form, enough to snap his neck and make it look like the fatality could have been a result of the brawl.

He wasn't sure what he'd do with all this information, but he wanted to hold onto it for awhile.  And elites who'd listened to the whole conversation and seen his buddy ride off with the girl just didn't fit into that plan.

Dragón met the car in the building's parking garage.  There was a moment of confusion as he spotted a young girl in the passenger seat of a driverless car, but he quickly sorted it out.  "Mechanus," he said, nodding at the idling car.

Then he stepped around and opened Cassia's door.  "Good morning, chiquita," he said, smiling.  He helped her gather up the remnants of her McDonald's raid, thanked Patrick again, and took her hand to lead her up to his home.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:44, Sun 06 Oct 2013.

Dillon considered the question.  "Once upon a time ... yeah, I would have been really worried.  But she's found her feet."  Can't fight their battles for them.  "She's fought that battle already, and come to a better conclusion than David did.  Prodigal.  The weird angel-guy."  He frowned.  "It's a long story."

-

At the Rio, Dillon led straight to the elevator and his new favorite spot.  The Archon, in his mind, had a problem: it was all about novas.  But the VooDoo Rooftop Nightclub was a place where Vegas denizens could mingle and see the whole of the strip laid out before them.  In the last year, Dillon had come to know a lot of the staff, and dropped a fair amount of money on the establishment, which came with perks.  Namely, that with a polite request they let him and his young friend get a table hours before the club was set to open.

"Tomorrow, we can see the rest of the strip.  For now ... a table and a view."  He passed Daphne his phone so she could let Serenade know where she was if she wanted.  "So ... when did you erupt exactly?"

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
OOC: It's true, the VooDoo has one of the best views of the city.  You look east, and the whole of the strip is lined up north to south for you.  Here in real life, the nightclub is mostly for the trendy and vapid - the Paris Hilton's of the world - but I'm declaring that a bit more class lingers in this place in this iteration of the Aeon-verse since the Archon has drawn away the trendiest of the trendy.

Also, Serenade if you want to join in, you are welcome.  Dress code is casual, and the kitchen isn't working yet.  It's just drinks, casino employees, and a few VIPs hanging out in the evening sun.

---

With some privacy and seclusion 51 floors above ground, Dillon could finally relax.  And hopefully give Daphne a few moments of friendly normalcy.  And by the time Gale arrived, the conversation had wandered.

"Alright, so another weird thing about living with this stuff," he started.  He was describing his own personal parasite, the metal, the source of his super-density and invulnerability, the product of his node and thief of his taste and smell.  Doctors could describe technical details of nova-dom, he focused on the banal things.  "Alright, so, I don't know how its been for you -- you look like you're weathering things pretty well -- but pretty early on I figured out that I had a serious problem.  I liked my hair short, right?  And had always been clean shaven.  But I couldn't cut my own hairs with a conventional razor anymore."  He laughed and mimed razors breaking against his face and his head.  "Took me forever to figure out something to keep my hair trimmed.  And it's still a pain."  He shook his head, laughing.  "This nova business ... it's weird, Daphne.  It's really weird."

Daphne couldn't help, but be in awe at the view of Vegas that she currently had. Daphne takes the phone and texts Laura with her location and who she was with.

"Well it was a few months ago not long after my birthday. My best friend at the time, invited me to a party and that didn't go so well and I left in a bit of a hurry. Without my ride I headed to a train station where some guy tried to mug me and I ended up on the train tracks."

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Daphne will continue to give you a brief of her eruption. Probably including a better date, which I don't actually have.

---

Daphne is sitting listening to Dillon with a look of fascination on her face. She gives a little laugh before responding to Dillon. "I hadn't even really considered my hair yet. I do prefer it long, but I'll probably have to get inventive with hair styles if it gets too long. This nova stuff is very weird, I haven't really weathered it well. I am getting more used to it, but the month I spent in San Francisco trying to kill myself was definitely not the most productive thing I've done."

Suicide attempts.  The topic was a little more solemn than he liked, but clearly meant a lot to the young lady.  "If what you're telling me about your powers is true, your odds of dying are probably about as good as mine."  He drank in the scenery, letting the wind and the quiet mix.  "Knew some people who spent time with Rashoud and Mazarin, and some of my friends have some strong ideas on what makes novas the way they are.  There's some wish fulfillment or self-actualization ... but the survival instinct's powerful.  Probably the most common trigger for eruption.  Sooner or later, you'll have to start living, because your body's not going to give up anytime soon."

He turned to look at Daphne.  "And if you're not over the death-wish, please don't try and indulge it here.  I don't know how you work, but if I took the express to the bottom it would just crater the earth and probably get a lot of people hurt.  They don't need that."

"And I'd probably catch you first," came Gale's voice from above as she floated down onto the roof to join them.  She had just followed them from above the whole way, not wanting to mess with the afternoon crowds, and then taken her sweet time getting to the top while they had to take the elevator.

"The why doesn't matter so much as what comes after.  What are you going to do with it?  What do you want to do with it?  It's a tough question.  But you have a lot of choices.  As a nova, almost any door can be opened for you.  Some people chase after the dreams they never thought they'd get a chance at.  Some just want to go back to what it was like before.  Some carry on just as they always had.  Most of us walk something in between, or forge something completely new."

Daphne smiles as she sees Gale return from her talk with the two strangers earlier.

"I am glad to see that you are alright. As for my death wish, well it is very diminished. Jumping from buildings and getting shot isn't much fun. I mostly just bounce and leave a small dent from falling. As for what to do, I just don't know. I hadn't even really started thinking about what I wanted to do before I became a nova. Now it seems so much more daunting of a task than before. I think helping people would be a good place to start. Even though my parents were apparently a little crazy, some of the things they taught me were right. I think God would want me to use this power to help others, not just use it to benefit myself."

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.

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

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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.

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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?"

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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.

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