Comstock waited at one of the many safe houses they had set up over the last year.  The actual location was unknown to anyone but Dillon and the ‘porters.  Anyone that wanted in had to take a leap of faith, even billionaire industrialists being courted for sponsorship.

Hell Kraken was convinced to come at the urging of both Comstock and Impetus.  He was not initially involved with the Vigilance movement, but the two former Utopians had convinced the terat that there was the potential for a productive partnership.  The movement needed funding, resources, technology, connections, all of which Kraken Industries had in abundance.  Kraken Industries needed… well, nothing so concrete, and need was a strong word to use, but the company and its founder could benefit from being part of a pervasive nova social movement.  The potential to shape social change, or even to just react to it before competitors, was not to be underestimated.

Dillon would have to sell the idea though.  Thus the tour of the facility, gathered novas, coaching from Phantasm and her continued presence at his side, and the speech he was about to make explaining Vigilance.  As soon as his people returned from their deployments of course.  It was bad timing, but there weren’t many other options, not if Vigilance was going to be more than a social club.  At least they didn’t have to wait for the impromptu teams to return to get a report on what was happening: opnet feeds were so ubiquitous these days that the group could watch the scenes unfold live.

Singapore
Operator and Wheelman were Elite.  That one word carried many meanings: a select few, the best of the best, warriors of fortune, novas for hire.  And at this exact moment, outnumbered, outgunned, and outmaneuvered.  DeVries seldom miscalculated, but the Malaysian billionaire had neglected to inform the agency that he was in debt to the Chinese cartels and refusing to pay.  The mogul’s business trip to Singapore resulted in a destroyed plane and a running fight that led from the airport into the city proper.  The quiet assassination had turned into an international incident, mostly thanks to Wheelman and Operator, but now they were running out of options.  While they were able through luck and skill to avoid the 6 nova hit squad that usually hit so hard and fast that their targets seldom had time to react, much less run, the two elites and their unconscious employer were outnumbered 3 to 1 and no reinforcements were coming.  Utopia wasn’t welcome, and Singapore’s military was unprepared for the violence and scale of the attack.  Until the government could negotiate intervention from other powers, or buy and transport a squad of elites, there was little to be done but clear civilians out of the way.

The attack was bad for nova-human relations, endangered lives, and reinforced the idea that novas could act without repercussions.  This was a perfect situation for Vigilance to intervene in.  Apolitical, indifferent to boarders, and lacking any concern for who it angered, the movement was well positioned to take action.  Moreover, it had the perfect people to resolve the situation.

The azure warp gate irised open.  Solitaire and Gravitas, veterans of every major nova conflict since 2001, emerged from the blue vortex of energy.  Immediately behind them, El Dragon, nova strategist and soldier, came blasting through.  They rapidly assessed the situation:  a known elite, Operator, fleeing in a quantum-tech vehicle from a group of 6 racing motorcycles, 3 of which were ridden by novas, and 3 novas in the air.  The trail of destruction led mostly across freeways, but with few options remaining Operator was forced to enter the densely populated city streets and head toward the docks.

Joe watched the fight as it approached his ship, just in from a salvage mission.  Why couldn’t he just come to shore and have a drink like normal people?  Oh, that’s right, because he was a blue giant with quantum powers that apparently included being in the wrong place at the right time.

Outside of Dallas Texas, USA
Kittenstood in line, waiting for her autograph.  Serenade was her favorite singer in the whole world, a real, honest to goodness nova superstar.  When she finally reached the front of the line, she was met by a bored but charming Serenade and her sidekick Daphne.  Kitten knew the girl was another nova, it was all over the tabloids: “Serenade’s Teenage Nova Lover,” “Serenade Adopts Unwanted Chinese Orphan,” “Laura Manning Makes Mind-Slave of Young Nova Girl”.  No one knew the nature of their relationship, but everyone knew they had one.

Baroness moved to the front of the line as her companion shouldered his way through, displacing a ruffled Kitten in the process.  Baroness’s date for the evening was both a well-known nova athlete, and large enough that no one cared to stop him from cutting in line.   This wasn’t her usual idea of a good time, an outdoor music festival in the middle of Texas, but it pleased her date and gave her the opportunity to speak to the famed singer, a moment to work her charms and make a connection.  But even the best laid plans could be ruined by poor timing and the inferior masses.

The fundamentalist anti-nova protestors had clung to the festival like particularly irritating jackals around a larger predator’s kill.  As the Serenade fans filtered off, and protestor numbers swelled temporarily at a shift change, a tipping point was reached.  Suddenly there was a riot, the scene devolving into chaos as equipment was overturned, fighting broke out between fans and protestors, and even uninvolved crowd members started to lash out just for the fun of it.  As the anarchy grew, one of the primary generators failed, shutting down the sound system and half the lights.  Johnny Afterburner, real American Hero, seldom got to enjoy his few days off.  Today was no exception, as he left his place in the crowd to fly up and view the discordant scene from above.

The opnet recorded it all, and showed it to Dillon.  A call to Gale, a request to Slider, and the two of them were flying on scene to hopefully make sense of the mess.

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Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
The only two things that I require from people at the end of this scene: 1) I don’t care how, but everyone needs to be back at the base, including new people, and 2) everyone needs to join the Vigilance/Aberrant movement, even if it's only nominal membership.  It’s the unifying plot element for this section.  Other than that, everyone is free to respond however they like.  Enjoy New Beginnings everyone.

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This message was last edited by the GM at 15:23, Sat 28 Sept 2013.

Sean was cursing inwardly, he'd previously been careful to never reveal his shapeshifting abilities in this skin, but desperate times called for desperate measures.  Racing along the highway at over 300kph he pulled up a schematic of the city state's expressway system.  The  Ayer Rajah Expressway across to Malaysia was out, as there would probably be a full regiment of troops there, along with Malaysia's own hired elites.  The Kallang–Paya Lebar Expressway would be an excellent place to lose their pursuers, except that the nearest entrance to the underground was blocked by rubble from collapsed buildings. "Operator, our options seem limited, either we increase speed and try to put distance between ourselves and the terrestrial pursuers, then take out the air force, and then deal with the terrestrials, or we try for the ocean and hope that none of them can operate at speed underwater.  Preferences?"  His satellite up-link in his computer registered a quantum distortion, indicative of a gate opening nearby, "A third option has presented itself, other nova operatives have arrived, we could intercept them and hope our pursuers busy themselves somewhat with the new arrivals, then we can either eliminate the remaining pursuers or effect an exit."

Baroness had brushed off Bennie "Iron Back" McCormick for weeks now. He was a playboy and had the unfortunate habit of wanting to show her off. While she enjoyed the attention, she was not fond of the exposure. She had lost a considerable amount of time (and money) making sure she had tightened the lips of her past connections once the tabloids somehow figured out where the two of them were going to be. So, when he offered a ticket to Serenade's show, she thought it would be an excellent way for him to pay her back for all the trouble--and certainly an easy place to ditch the neanderthal once she had tired of him.

Her eyebrows twitched into a frown at his boorish display of cutting straight through the line. She might be thankful for the saved time but this was not the first impression she was hoping to make. She turned on him, her cool gaze turning into an icy stab. She did not raise her voice but it never the less sliced out at the man's pride, "Benjamin...apologize to the poor girl you just pushed aside," she stepped closer to the brute and let her voice drop, only out of decency and not to minimize the shame she was heaping on the poor man, "Try to control yourself. Or I won't be the only one with unfortunate stories to tell."

She quickly reverted back to her calm state and placed her hand on the table, leaning towards Serenade and Daphne, "I'm terribly sorry, he's just been so excited to see you," and repeating an apologetic smile for Kitten.

She didn't have much time to savor the reaction of her date as the crowd erupted into chaos. She gritted her perfect teeth as the lights flickered and half of them died out. With a sigh that might be more appropriate for a missed elevator than a mob scene she put one hand on her hip and let the other dangle by her side. The skin of her dropped hand began to bubble and swell, becoming a bloated mass of mottled flesh. It continued to expand until it sank, slowly revealing her hand again until it was held only by a strand of skin to her finger which finally broke and the sack of skin fell to the ground. It twitched and began to take on the warped features of one of her homunculi, this one with rage in its eyes and extra sharp teeth.

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Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Just so I'm clear:  There are 6 motorcycles on the ground and 3 novas in the air - who are riding the other 3 motorcycles?

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Dragón shot forward, quickly overtaking the motorcycles weaving through startled traffic.  Spying a relatively open spot in the traffic, he shot downward and landed just in front of the bikes, throwing up a force field shaped like a giant snow plow that blocked all three lanes.  Cars going the speed limit would have ample time to stop before crashing into the glowing, blue barrier.  Motorcycles blasting along at top speed...not so much.

"Operator, Dragón.  I'm on your six.  I'm intercepting the ground vehicles, Solitaire and Gravitas are with me and should be able to hand the fliers a bad day.  How copy?"

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Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
*Edit*  I almost forgot to put this in.  He would have activated this before 'porting in.
23:47, Sat 28 Sept 2013: El Dragon rolled 4 5 successes using 7d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 ((8,10,6,4,7,7,1)) Activate Boost, making my M-Str and M-Sta 5...at least ;).

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This message was last edited by the player at 04:52, Sun 29 Sept 2013.

Off the Coast of Singapore

Joe "watched" the fighting in Singapore from a singularly unique view. If Joe were another Nova he might have cataloged the entirety of the city, each individual person's microbial flora was as unique to them as a fingerprint and harder to change or erase. As it was, Joe noted the arrival of the Novas from all parts of the globe and made notes of them onto his computer as he lounged on the deck of Sea Porter, his empty eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. The sun was unknown to him though, instead he swam through the mass of biodiversity that was a modern city.

"This sucks," he muttered to himself, following the one signature that was known to him - one of the novas from that night in Las Vegas, though which one was hard to tell given how fast he was moving.

"What's that luv?" Terri said from inside the cabin. "Are you sure you don't want any of this caviar? It's wooonderful..." To his sensitive ears he could hear her munching on every bite of overpriced cracker.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:58, Sat 28 Sept 2013.

As Wilhelm stepped through the portal he was struck with wonderment at the fact that his mysterious petitioners had bothered with the attempt at secrecy at all.  Honestly it was a little insulting.  Sure the inside of the place was plain and somebody had welded layers of chicken wire into a crude Faraday cage around the perimeter to prevent electronic eavesdropping, but they hadn't taken out the windows.  They hadn't filtered the air.  They hadn't shock-isolated the foundation.  A Quonset hut in a mine a mile underground could be anywhere.  This safe house, though, could only be in one place.  Wilhelm could feel the rumble of a four-lane interstate nearby; he could taste the Mississippi River on the air; and he could see, very faintly, the glints of two satellites (COSMOS 2278 and Landsat 7 based on their apparent motions and relative positions) passing overhead.  He was in Alton, Illinois on the corner of 5th and Ridge.  "You know, they caught a bull shark in the river about a mile west of here back in 1937.  It had to have swum 1400 miles upriver to get there.  That's one impressive fish."  A pause.  "Perhaps you should tell me why you're wasting my time with all this secrecy nonsense."

This situation is screwed. The thought ricocheted through Operator's mind a half dozen times in rapid succession. Discretion. Secrecy. Control. All of these things were Operator's selling points. The scale of damage control required here was exceeding his abilities rapidly. Combat breathing. Maintain discipline. Think clearly.

"Reinforcements are rolling in. Lets deal with the aerial threat and then either lose the ground threat or divide them and conquer. Start circling around towards the portal. We need to draw the aerial threat into an area where they have nowhere to go but away. Break line of sight. From a position of no observation, we can start to fix this."

Operator leaned back and extended his left hand, balancing with the right. He had to get the aerial threats to break contact, or changing the facts of the situation would just be too hard, and would take too much out of him. First things first. Jonas let out ceaseless spray of terrifying quantum based lead from the palm of his hand, the end flare a foot long, and the report an all consuming roar.

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

Cover fire:
17:23, Mon 30 Sept 2013: Operator rolled 3 successes using 11d10 with the Target Number system with a target of 7 ((3,2,4,2,2,9,10,8,4,6,6))

So the aerial targets must make a Willpower roll of 4 sux to ignore the effect, 3 sux to only take a +1 diff to everything, or if they get lower than that they MUST seek cover. A botch means they get hit.

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