For Learnings

Arriving at the university campus, Rodger parked and retrieved the two parcels from his trunk that went to men here. A professor, and, somebody in the sports department.

Heading towards the science buildings, Rodger sought out where the professor's office was. Whether he was in it or teaching a class at the moment, Rodger didn't know. He was surprised, though, to find that the office door said that the man was the dean of the physics and chemistry department, not just a professor, however.


(----> From Weston City Mall)
This message was last edited by the player at 22:11, Fri 13 Nov 2009.

As Rodger arrived at the University, and after finding the science buildings, comes to the dean's office. Dean Bruce Dunlap appeared to be out of his office, at least at the moment.

A perky red-headed secretary sees Rodger walk in and asks with a smile, "Can I help you sir?"

"When will Professor Dunlap be back?" Rodger asked politely.

Suddenly footsteps are heard behind Rodger's feet...and he had only been in here less than 20 seconds.

"Umm...sir....he's right behind you..."

Professor Dunlap stood an impressive 6'2, had olive skin with dark hair in a ponytail and was cleanshaven.

"Mr. Eskin...it's nice to make your acquantince. Step into my office."

Turning to his secretary, "Tabitha...hold my calls please..."

Rodger gulped. How had he known his name? Had the demons (or Richard) given a picture of him to everybody in their 'game'? He didn't know. But he obeyed immediately, stepping into the office, his arms full with the two parcels.

Professor Dunlap allowed Rodger to enter first, then shut the door afterwards.

Motioning Rodger to sit down, Professor Dunlap then sat at his office desk. Looking at Rodger, he then folded his hands.

"You have a package for me, do you not?"

"Yes, sir."

Rodger checked the parcels to see which one was Bruce's, and placed it on the desk in front of him. "Here it is. Will you be wanting me to help with anything...? I know I'm late." He fidgeted uncomfortably. Why had he said that?

Professor Dunlap simply shook his head.

"That really won't be necessary, but I am grateful that you dropped this off. This is a life-changing moment...for all of us. We stand on the edge of something truly great, Mr. Eskins. And you should feel honored that you are a part of this..."

He then opened the package, then looked up and asked, "Is...there anything else you need?"

"I really don't know..." It seemed to Rodger that he was thinking more clearly than he had in weeks, that some of the mental fogginess he'd been suffering from was starting to fade.

"I know practically nothing of what's going on, or what I'm supposed to do. All I have to go on is a trio of demons, something about me being an 'evil wizard', and Mayor Boyd telling me it was a life or death situation." Rodger sighed, and slumped a little. "Why would a serious man want to be a balloon?"

"To each their own, Mr. Eskin. To each their own..."

Smiling at the package, he then looked back at Rodger.

"Once all the pieces are in place, I'm sure things will become a lot more clear in that time. Until such time...well...ignorance is bliss..."

"Now, then if we are finished here? I'm sure that you have other deliveries to make..."

Rodger nodded glumly.

"Yes sir. Enjoy your suit."

He turned to go.

And off to the athletics/sports parts of campus, seeking his next man. On the way, the gem display popped up again, "Prisoner #8, Bruce Dunlap, is online." as another small gem flashed and took on its' color. Well, these people certainly were eager, that was for sure. So far... he paused a moment and reviewed who he'd delivered to and how many gems were in color now, everyone but Corporal Ustinov had gotten their suit on and done something bizarre to themselves to activate it.

Checking things out, the name on the parcel led him to the office of the wrestling & bodybuilding coach.

The name on the door read "Al Thompson."

Inside, Rodger could hear the grunts of someone lifting weights, and if he steps inside he would see a muscular man, clean shaven with a shaved head lifting the weights up and down.

"Can I help you?"

"Hello, Mr. Thompson? I have a delivery for you."

He kept his attention on the bodybuilder, trying unsuccessfully to ignore what else was in the room. Well, at least trophies and framed papers hanging on the walls were normal, sensible things.

Thompson put the weights down and then sat up.

"What kind of packa...OHHHHHHHH....THAT package....I was told that someone was going to drop it off...I just had no idea who..."

He folds his hands and looks at the package. "So...you're the guy who's hookin' all of us up huh?"

"If that's what you want to call it, yes." Rodger said, fidgetting a little again.

"I have practically no idea what I'm supposed to be doing with everyone, though."

"Well...I wouldn't worry about that. I'm pretty sure we'll all know when the time comes. Just be content to know that something extraordinary is going to come out of this..."

He noticed his fidgeting.

"And you won't have to fidget anymore..."

"Thanks," Rodger said a little sarcastically. "I do that when I'm nervous." He grinned a little sheepishly.

He paused half a second, something coming to mind. "You're a wrestling coach, and one of the other men had a costume that made him a clown wrestler. Does that mean you'll be working together, or is it just a coincidence?"

Thompson simply shook his head.

"You're thinking way too hard, my friend. Just complete the rest of your deliveries and all will be revealed...you worry too much. What's the matter...ya don't like surprises?"

"No, not at all. But most surprises don't start out with a friend telling me I'm going to have to try to kill him repeatedly, either."

Thompson grinned.

"Well we all have our little problems, don't we? But please don't let me tarry you any further..."

He paused for a moment.

"I wonder if the Legacy of Weston will get wise to what's happening. Hopefully they won't...which is why you've gotta make the rest of the deliveries. Go on...scoot..."

"The Legacy? If I have to get beaten up by them too..." his voice trailed off as a sour look crossed the teacher's face. He turned and left, thoughts churning as he considered what being a bad guy, even in a live action game, might mean when a superhero decided to thwart some 'evil plan' the demons might set him to doing. Ooooouuuccchhh. Well, at least he wouldn't have to 'go off like a bomb' as an overinflated balloon exploding, like Richard and presumably Johnny. Or would he? Ugh, that was a scary train of thought.

On his way back to the car he imagined Al Thompson as a tramp clown-cum-wrestler, fighting with a bicycle pump to pump himself up bigger, and ending up as a giant rubber muscleman sitting on the ground, no longer able to move his enormous arms enough to operate the pump handle. And looking around in very slow motion with a 'crap, now what do I do' expression of sad boredom with his near-paralysis.

Reaching his car, he got in and drove off. Next stop, one he'd been dreading because it was someone he knew.

(Exit to Weston City Hospital)

(day after the birthday party)

Rodger wasn't entirely sure where things had gone so wrong. He'd arrived at the physical education building to meet the coach for a lesson in clowning, and somehow, he'd ended up as the one on the receiving end.

He was in his Clumsy Charlie form, the hose still firmly in his valve, and Al had his hands on the bicycle pump (or oversized version thereof). Sitting on a wrestling mat, legs sprawled out in front of him, the sad-looking clown had an expression of consternation with overtones of 'oh shit' as it dawned on his silly character that he couldn't pull the hose out, and was at another clown's mercy.

Al simply smiled as Clumsy Charlie endured his predicament.

"Looks like the shoe's on the other foot, eh Eskin?" he said with a slight chuckle.

The clown on the end of the hose gulped, an exaggerated version of the action, and nodded glumly. He eyed the hose stuck in him, then gave Al a pleading, puppy-eyed look, mutely begging (encouraging him to?) not to be blown up further. Sure, Rodger could drop character and yank the hose out, unless something in their powers and programming prevented it, but he was playing along with whatever Al had in mind. After all, since he was supposed to torment them for power, it was only fair that if one of them got him the same way he should be a good sport about it. Turnabout was fair play.

So Clumsy Charlie played up on being helpless and at Al's mercy, a clown who realized that his assailant could pump him up until he blew to bits and desperate to avoid that fate.

Al slowly began to pump Rodger some more.

"It's not everyday that the one who brings the pain is the one who takes it too! Remind me to sign up for more days like this, Rodger.."

At that, he did drop character very briefly to answer. "If you have to put up with this, I should too when I'm not being the Wizard. It's not like I ever wanted to be the source of suffering." Or a wizard, although he was reluctantly learning to be that.

Switching back to mute clowning, Clumsy Charlie shuddered, mouth working silently in mock shrieks of "No! No!" grasping the hose with both hands and pretending to be trying to pull it out with all his might... and utterly failing. He let go of it, arms waving frantically and feet kicking a little in panic as pump after pump made his sides bulge further. On his own, Rodger was still afraid to blow himself up past full transformation, so getting bigger like this was a new experience. It felt strange, in ways he didn't have words for yet.

'No pain, no gain Eskin," Al replied, staying in character as the pumping continued. "Let's see how you like it, Mr. Wizard!"

Rodger's jaw quivered, head shaking side to side "no," eyes pleading as he clutched his belly in a futile effort to try to keep himself from swelling any further. All acting, of course. Letting go of his stomach, Clumsy Charlie clasped both hands together, pleading silently with his tormentor for mercy  for perhaps a dozen strokes of the pump handle - was that thing filling him with air or did it have a tank of another gas inside of it, Rodger briefly wondered - before he 'lost his balance' and tumbled to one side, rolling around in pretend distress on the mats. He wasn't that round yet, but little things like that were no obstacles to theatrical imagination. He just had to watch out and make sure he didn't kink the hose or get tangled up in it.

The clowning continued as Al pumped Rodger up little by little. The teacher could feel himself inflating more and more with each passing second.

Despite the pumping setting off urges of self-preservation and feelings of growing distress, Rodger took it like a man, being silly and pretending to be hysterical but cooperating completely with what Al was doing to him. Clumsy Charlie was a terrified clown, seemingly thinking that he was going to pop like one of his own toy balloons, and desperate to do anything to placate his assailant and avoid that fate.

Rodger was growing quite round, and genuinely couldn't stand up on his own, so he rolled back and forth on the mats at the end of the hose. It crossed his mind that he was getting a taste of what he'd put Dastardly through the other day.

"I'm half tempted to kick you Eskin," Al said, grinning. "But....I have a class coming in soon. So...best to get my shots in while I can..."

He then started to roll the blimpy teacher all around for a few more minutes, then began to deflate him.

Rodger put up with it gamely, briefly shifting mental focus to view his gemstone display and see if he could tell whether their little playtime had generated any mana. He suspected that it had, although he wasn't entirely certain.

It took a bit of deflation before he got his voice back, it turned out. Apparently he'd been full enough to prevent speech. "I'd better get out of sight before your students start showing up," he commented when he was able.

  He saw that he had, indeed, generated some black mana.

Seeing that he'd generated some mana was something that lifted a bit of the burden on Rodger's heart. A little more that he could do to help out the clown brigade, doing his part to support the group. And it had been fun, in a thrillseeking kind of way.

Taking his leave of Al, the evil wizard (still in clown mode as Clumsy Charlie, rather than all the way back to Rodger) slunk out a back door to get out before the class showed up. It was that, or come up with some sort of cockamamie excuse for his presence - or attack and inflate Al in front of his own students, but that might have forced him to actually explode the coach if none of them took action to save him. And Rodger wasn't up to facing the idea that he'd killed someone yet, even if he knew it was temporary. He wasn't even sure that he could bring himself to randomly attack another brigade member, any more than he could just attack someone in the street. It went against so much of his nature.

Strolling away from the physical education building, he inwardly debated his options. Switch back to Rodger now and go do something mundane, or stay Clumsy Charlie and try to amuse people as a street performer? Although with the rash of clown-related crimes lately people might get upset; he was fairly sure that most of them were being done by members of the brigade, too, which upset him thinking about it.

He glanced around, seeing what and who were close by.

  There were several students nearby, and they spotted him.  And began to converge on him, with a teacher in tow.  Who promptly began to lecture on the skills of a clown as a thespian in life . . .

Oh? With a woebegone expression and mannerisms, Rodger listened intently to the teacher, taking his cues for changes in his improvised act straight from what the teacher was saying to help illustrate a point being made.

  The teacher was also giving a bit of the history of where clowns came from.  As he talked, he would occasionally point to this or that spot on Clumsy Charlie, but the fellow knew, very well, what he was discussing.  And how accurately a clown could portray a tragedy without words if they were careful.

(after the 5 year timeskip)

The athletics department...  where signs proclaimed Free (chocolate-dipped) Ice Cream Cones Today! and pointed to the gym.

Inside, a soft serve machine and counter had been set up, along with borders for a line leading from one door, past the ice cream service, around it behind it and out the other door. There was a malicious reason for the set-up, the nasty 'secret' of the price for the free treats only being visible on the way out once you already had one. However, with the constant evil, Evil, EVIL radiating from one of the men behind the counter, people could be assumed to be forewarned that something was up. For that man was The Rich Man, Rodger Eskin in his green mana super form. Hair and beard of metallic gold, a fancy, sparkling green tuxedo sporting glittering dollar signs, and a cane with a diamond the size of a plum or tangerine for a handle  made it clear that this was a parahumanly wealthy man. Although the paper hat of an ice cream vendor was quite out of place perched atop his head. The other man with him was one of his henchclowns (GM's choice of who).

The ice cream was free of magic, being straight-forward soft serve like any ordinary restaurant might have. The sugar cones were store bought and mundane. The melted chocolate that they were dipped in? It was magical. The source that it sluggishly flowed out of to the dipping vat was a tall, opaque rectangular container... opaque from the front side of the counter. People going out could see through the clear back side of it, and atop some heating elements stood a life-sized, solid chocolate statue of Coach Al Thompson. He was fully conscious and aware in his transmuted state, but only able to move muscles that wouldn't move his skeleton, leaving him with mostly facial expressions and his eyes to express himself with. While he was being melted alive and served to his students as chocolate coating adorning their ice cream.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:38, Tue 27 June 2017.

  Several of the coeds and some of the random people were staring at the chocolate man, and the Rich Man could hear them talking about how lifelike the chocolate sculpture that was being melted was.  One of the students said "Looks a lot like the coach, but he's not rich enough to go making life sized chocolate statues to get melted."

Overhearing that going on behind him, the Rich Man finished handing the cone he'd just dipped to another student on the front, incoming side, his friendly smile belaying the flickering hellfire in his dollar sign-shaped pupils. Few were those who could tell the difference between real hellfire and his fake, illusionary evil just by looking at it, but even after years in his android body Rodger still refused to fully play along with his programming and behave in ways that went along with his faux-evil design much of the time.

Half-turning, he commented to the speaker, "Oh, it's not a matter of wealth young man. I have no trouble giving someone all they need in the way of money. But... yes, Coach Thompson is paying for this event, so none of you need fear any evil from me during it. Well, except for the sin of cannibalism, but is it really being a cannibal if you're not wheat, dairy, or chocolate yourself?" He smiled mysteriously and turned back to the front counter to get started on another cone for a sweet-toothed student.

Maverick is here, having visited a university student he befriended a year back during a grocery run. He saw the line leading to free ice cream and a wizard who somehow radiated evil. Despite how much he wanted some ice cream now, Maverick was worried. So rather than get in line, the boy began to sneak about behind the counter to try and find out what was going on. Was there poison? Spells? Something else he hadn't thought of?

He carefully watches Rodger from behind to see what all the man is doing. A few years ago, he would have thought himself overreacting to a "feeling" of evil, but he still would have done the same thing that he does now. Only difference is that now, he no longer feels he is overreacting to spy on people for no apparent reason.

Somehow, the Rich Man failed to notice the lad scurrying in back of the counter with him and his clown co-worker. Somehow. Yet he stepped over Maverick's foot, further than his normal stride, rather than tread upon it as he moved away from the chocolate to hand the freshly dipped treat to a young lady. He listened to the request of the next in line, and picked up another two cones, moving to the ice cream machine to fill them with vanilla soft serve.

It was a bog standard soft ice cream machine, complete with an inspection sticker on the side. Here behind the counter, Maverick could easily see that the supply of cones were mostly in boxes, still sealed from the store.

Mav doesn't see anything wrong just yet. So he sneaks off to watch if anything happens to the people who are eating the ice cream.

(Presumably, he sees nothing happen to them)

If he finds nothing wrong with the people who ate the ice cream, Maverick will get in line...

People who have gotten theirs already seem to be fine, but there is a small crowd by the exit line of people looking over something and discussing it.

The line is long. There will be a wait for your ice cream, as it appears to be popular.

Maverick weighs his options. Spend a long time waiting in line for free ice cream? Or investigate the end of the line and pay a couple dollars for ice cream later?

Maverick is a curious sort. Why else would he spy all the time? So he heads for the exit area to see what the fuss is all about.

Getting there without going through the line wasn't as simple as it sounded, the way things were set up. But definitely doable by going in the out door from outside of the gym.

What college students were looking at back there was... a full-sized, extremely life-like chocolate statue of a muscular, shaven-headed man was visible through the clear back panel of the machine supplying the stand with the chocolate they so abundantly coated the cones with by dipping. A statue that was being slowly melted. Had he imagined it, or had an eye moved?

Maverick widened his eyes at thinking he might have seen an eye move! He quickly calms himself and tries to get closer. If the crowd was large or thick, Maverick tries to use his size to his advantage, trying to weave through the crowd, so he could get a closer look at the statue. He hopes he didn't really see what he thought he saw, but he can't rule it out.

While Maverick worked his way in closer, he overheard comments on
 how life-like it was
 people wondering how the Coach could have afforded having a life-sized chocolate sculpture of himself made just to be melted
 somebody philosophizing about cannibalism
 someone discussing Thundercats
 two girls trying to calculate how many calories the entire statue would have had and how many servings it would have safely made without going to their hips
 complaints about an upcoming test
 someone congratulating someone else on winning a recent athletic event
 people wondering where Coach Thompson was


Yup, the eyes moved. And there'd been a few twitches of the right cheek, like a subdued flinch. Possibly the pecs had flexed a little, but with the heat in there that might have been something else.

Maverick feels his heart sink. This guy, whoever he is, is stuck and can't cry for help. The sight is downright terrifying, but Maverick refuses to let it scare him. Even if he realizes that whoever turned this guy into chocolate could very well do the same to him.

Maverick makes a phonecall to Matt. If Matt picks up, Maverick says clearly enough to talk over the small crowd of students, "Matt... I'm at Weston State, just outside the gym. Please come quickly."

Mav takes a look at his text and gives his phone a weird look.  He texts back "OK. I'll attempt to deal with it. If I do not call you back in 10 minutes, then something has happened to me."

Maverick turns to address the crowd. "People! This statue IS the coach! Watch his eyes!"

He goes to wave a hand near the coach and says, "Follow my hand so that they'll see..."

People listened, and watched. The Rich Man paused in serving the line to look back towards where Maverick was with focused attention.

The statue did not cooperate, holding his eyes as still he could while Maverick's hand waved in front of him.

Maverick looks to see the wizard is staring at him. He thinks about how he's going to take care of this, but at the moment, the forward approach isn't working because the Rich Man is keeping the statue from cooperating.

Soooo... he gives the statue a suspicious glare, then walks off, looking for a corner to disappear behind. Then shrugs. "Maybe I was seeing things?" he remarks offhandedly.

Based off what he knows about Rodger, Mav still isn't 100% sure if this is one of those cases of people who have certain rules to their "game" or whatnot. But he may as well treat it as such; Rule #1) You can't simply tell people what's going on.

Unless the Rich Man specifically kept tabs on where Mav went, the boy looks for where is another good hiding place in the gym to re-collect his thoughts.

Some people laugh at Maverick. One suggests that you try harder when doing psychology experiments. Others just go back to their own thing, and the Rich Man watched Maverick for a few more seconds before turning back to the front of the counter and cheerfully getting back to work serving ice cream.

Unfortunately, a gym typically used for sporting events such as basketball and wrestling isn't the greatest place to seek hiding places in. There's under the stands, or behind that cabinet, or... no, climbing up the wall to hide on top of the scoreboard screen wouldn't work.

A college age catgirl cosplaying as a Jedi walks in, lightsabers discreetly tucked away on her belt.  (( This, only not jumping out at you: http://timothius.deviantart.co...ars-framed-659857665  ))

She's wearing a wireless headset around her neck, from which is playing Weird Al's "My Own Eyes."  The girl, Mittens by name if anyone was paying very close attention to the Para scene 5 years ago, seems preoccupied with the stack of forms in her hands and grumbles about paperwork as she gets into the line.

"So unfair that I have to go through this silly diploma business.  The very initials tell of just how B.S. a B.S. is.

"Um... I'll have whatever doesn't give people flashbacks to high school," she asks of the person serving the noms without looking up from the papers, apparently having mistaken this for the cafeteria.

The clown with the Rich Man raised a painted (?) eyebrow at that. "Please don't cut in front of other people, Miss. Also... is chocolate even safe for you?" he asked, mindful of her feline appearance. His voice was a cultured one, speaking in the bass range rather than the falsetto many clowns adopted as part of their childish characters. A voice that may seem rather familiar if you've taken classes in chemistry or physics.

"'Chocolate?!'" Mittens echoes in surprise, looking up from the forms.

She stares in slack-jaw shock at what she sees.  Why is a clown with a bass voice serving ice cream in a gym?  How did she mistake the gym for the cafeteria?  What's with the darksider wearing a Riddler / Scrooge McDuck hybrid outfit?  What would his Darth name be?  Darth Denarius?  Why should chocolate be... Oh.  Hah.  Very funny.

Mittens' look of shock turns to a big smile.  "Thanks for your concern, but I assure you that I'm fine with partaking in Chocolate of all kinds.  Maybe college won't be so bad if chocolate is involved.  Sorry 'bout cutting.  I... nevermind."

She backs away to get in line at the proper place, having somehow completely missed the boy that should be very familiar to her.

While filling out forms in line she sings along to Weird Al,

"With my own eyes
I see things that'd drive a normal man insane
Wish I could disconnect my brain
From my own eyes."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:29, Thu 13 July 2017.

Bleachers are almost always a great hiding place. And if he gets found, well, what kid DOESN'T enjoy hiding under bleachers for its own sake? (Heck, Mav still enjoys hiding inside clothing racks at the clothing store)

But what's best about bleachers is being able to view others easily without others viewing you easily.

Speaking of, he spots Mittens. No mistaking a catgirl with jedi outfit. Hoping her number hasn't changed and that she has her phone with her, Maverick texts her with "Welcome back to Earth. Stay in line for now. Careful about the chocolate; it used to be the coach of the gym."

He pulls out his binoculars and watches for a moment. He's mostly focused on the Rich Man, the clown, and what is around them (such as what all is on their person, if there is a fire extinguisher near them, a ventilation shaft, or even what material their tables are made of)

@Maverick

There's no ventilation shaft anywhere close to them, and the nearest fire extinguisher is on the wall by the door people are coming in through. The front counter is on small wheels, parked with the aid of a couple of weights holding them still, and the counter itself might be plastic or might be plywood under a thin coating. From what you'd seen while behind the counter, there wasn't any visible technology or runes underneath.

The Rich Man is dressed as previously described, although his diamond-headed cane is at the moment resting atop the soft serve machine while he uses both hands to work. The clown is at least 6 feet tall, plus a couple of inches, and chubby. He has dark hair, a dapper mustache turned up at the ends beneath his red nose, and a long ponytail, while his costume seems to suggest a banker or millionaire; another wealth-oriented character to go with The Rich Man's own theme. Other than the cane, nothing resembling a weapon is visible, and the clown has the only phone (in his vest pocket) of the pair.

Mittens takes out her phone, reads a message, and looks surprised.

"How the heck..?"

She glances around as if looking for someone or something.  She then types a reply, puts the phone away, and gives a concerned look at the whole ice cream setup.  Especially where the chocolate is coming from.

@Mittens

The chocolate appears to be supplied, in a sluggish, fragrant flow, from a tall, opaque (from this side) rectangular device just off to the side of the soft serve machine (with room for the tray to dip into in-between).

Mav texts Mittens back. Then begins writing notes on a piece of note paper*.

Maverick then goes back to watching the Rich Man. He carefully aims his phone, zooms to get a decent picture of the Rich Man and the clown.

*For reference, what is on the note paper: oil, fog horn, rubber ducky, a pillow, realistic toy snake, fake blood, a pair of panties.

In reply to Maverick Sargas (msg # 63):

Neither of the pair appears to be aware that they are being photographed, but the picture that is taken shares the impression of evil, Evil, EVIL that The Rich Man radiates, albeit rather weaker.

Still flummoxed by this bizarre situation, Mittens replies to Mav's text with a


She puts on her space pirate eye-patch, (https://s-media-cache-ak0.pini...f11a605433855ee4.jpg) using it to hide her "sight beyond sight" trick of creating a tiny floating portal to peek through.  (An especially observant person might notice a peeking eye inspecting the heating element of the coach-melting rig.)  Depending on whether it is powered by electricity or propane or whatever, Mits discreetly reaches through a portal in her magician's hat to cut off that which is powering the heating element one way or another.  (Unless, of course, it is somehow immune to mundane tools such as wire cutters or crimping pliers.)

Mits then takes a pictures of Evil McEvil and Sir Clown Gentleman and does a google reverse image search to see if they've popped up in the news before.  Then, when Weird Al's "Eat It" starts playing over her headset, she looks kinda disgusted and she switches over to...  um...

"What the heck is an appropriate song for, 'Riddler McDuck serving melted choco-coach to unsuspecting collegiates that doesn't encourage them to 'Eat It?'"

Her semi-intelligent music player ques up "Chocolate Rain."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:03, Tue 18 July 2017.

The heating element proves to be electrical, and not super-tech or even complicated. It looks like it could well have been put together from a hardware supply store. As long as your tool is insulated so that you don't get electrocuted, cutting the power will be simpler than cracking a peanut for you, Mittens.

A reverse image search finds plenty on the evil-radiating dude, and a number of lesser matches for the clown. Identification of the evil-doer is that he is "The Rich Man" one of the forms of Rodger-Ra the Ever-Wicked, a real-life version of cartoon supervillain Mumm-Ra the Everliving of Thundercats fame. The clown is one of his henchmen, err, henchclowns as it seems that Rodger-Ra's minions are almost always either clowns or demons.

Maverick considers what order he wants to do this in. From what he heard, everything should turn out alright in the end, but Maverick still wants to make sure there is as much damage control as possible.

He sends a text to the police office. It sure is a nice thing he has been going there so often for the past several years to socialize and share doughnuts with them (During the school year, he visits them every weekday since they are only a slight detour on his way home from school).

The text reads: "Rodger Eskin is at the Weston State University's gym. The coach has been turned into a chocolate statue and is slowly melting. Rodger is using that melting chocolate as the topping to the ice cream he is serving. I am currently attempting to rescue the coach and hope to persuade Rodger to stop with as little chaos as possible. Currently working with Parahuman friend of mine: Mittens."

He texts Mittens again.

Maverick then presses record on his audio recording device, sneaks out from his hiding spot, and heads over to Rodger, approaching from beside the line to bypass it entirely (He isn't cutting in line, just walking outside of the border for it). He is now not making any attempt to hide himself, but is locking eyes with Rodger with a look of curiosity on his face.

"Ohmygosh!" Mittens gasps when she reads the news, "You're famous!"

If this guy were some teen idol, politician, or actor, she could probably have controlled her outburst.  But this is something far more amazing!  So yes.  Helm-cam is go!  Though, this is using advanced alien tech mind-interface she picked up while gallivanting across the stars.  Which means it records all the senses in a full VR package.  You can pick songs in your playlist with a mere thought, too.  Takes some practice to be able to prevent it from playing that earworm song again for the dozenth time in a row, though.

"The Rich Man!  Rodger-Ra the Ever-Wicked!  How incredibly...  Aaa..."

Zoop!  Miss Adventure teleports to the rafters.  "aawesooo"

She leaps down and slam-dunks into the nearest hoop.  "oome!"

Teleports through the floor and a wall to somersault next to the guy in green and offer a handshake with a huge grin.

"How amazing that I get to meet you face-to-face!  Hello!  My name is Miss Adventure!"

Sure enough, Rodger noticed Maverick's attention from outside of the line upon him. He kept working, but met Maverick's gaze with a slightly quizzical look of his own as he wondered what the youngster was up to.

Only to get horribly distracted by a sudden attack of mis-guided adoration from a kittenish fan. "I beg your pardon?" Those hellfire-infested eyes blinked, quite surprised by this onslaught of an unexpected groupie. Not that he could reasonably accept the handshake or give autographs right now, as he'd need to wash his hands afterwards to meet hygiene standards and they didn't have a sink set up here.


OOC: GMs? Should I handle police replies too, or do one of you wish to do that?

Rodger isn't the only one. Maverick's attention is drawn to Mittens with a "wtf" look. For the moment, he is stunned for 1d4 rounds. "...nice dunk." the boy comments in a still-stunned tone.

Miss Adventure smiles bashfully.

"Mittens is a little taken aback by The Rich Man's react...ion.  Maverick?!"

Mittens stares in slack-jawed shock at what she sees.  Last time she saw him was years ago.  Shouldn't he be at least a little taller?!  Worried that she may have slipped into one of those space-time loopholes Alternate Reality Mittens warned her about, she double-checks the current date.

Mits looks up from her watch and gives a sheepish look.  "Eheh.  Pardon me.  You really look a lot like this guy in the news."

She shows him an article on her smartphone.

"Yes," The Rich Man answered Mittens dryly, "That is indeed me. However, you don't seem to have thought this meeting out very well." His gaze became unfocused as Rodger mentally went to his spell menus. He recognized the hero name Miss Adventure from the all local Paras that he'd been required to memorize. A teleporter with portals, hmm? Time to use that against her, if he could time it right.

There. He'd found the spell he wanted, and his eyes focused on the kitten in front of him once more.

Maverick reaches to cover the article and says, "It's me, Mittens."

He starts to blush, his cheeks turning red while he gets an upset look.

(Exactly like this expression: http://pm1.narvii.com/5772/7b9...1ccbaec2452cd_hq.jpg )
This message was last edited by the player at 03:08, Thu 20 July 2017.

Mits retracts the phone, turning the screen off.  If she knew what the wizard is up to, she'd likely deliberately fall for his trap because turning into Elmo and being sent to Elmo land!?  How fun is that?!  But alas, she knows not what is in store for her and does not yet have reason to teleport.  A straight jab to the face would likely be incentive enough.

"Ah!  Well...  I guess introductions are in order?  This is Maverick.  All-around awesome guy.

"You are quite correct that I did not think through this meeting, sir!  I tend to be impulsive that way.  Nevertheless, I did have a plan.  Namely, to ask as flatteringly or classic-heroically as possible what your nefarious scheme is.  Because I would loove to hear an authentic Rodger-Ra monologue!"

Sadly, among Mittens' other character flaws, is that she can be a tad over-honest.

[ Mits oft times opens small portals to access her hammerspace props.  Would the spell suck her into a small portal?  If so, awesome! ]

The Rich Man smiled, unable to hold back a chuckle. "I'm afraid that you've got me at a bad time, Miss Adventure, because I'm doing this as a favor for a friend rather than one of my own, ahem, nefarious schemes. On the other hand, you are a confirmed heroine, and my promise to the student population that I won't do any evil to them today does not protect you because of that. And on the gripping hand, I know something about your powers and I do believe that my magic can, let us say, hack your portals. I'll play fair and not send your spleen out for a jog around the campus without the rest of your entrails."

OOC: No, it won't work that way Mittens. This spell cannot suck someone in at all, nor does it enlarge the capacity of the opening cast upon. If you cannot fit through it on your own, the spell won't be able to trap you. It's a white mana spell.

Maverick looks back at Rodger and says, "If deceiving people into cannibalism by having them eat chocolate remains of their melting coach is your idea of not being evil to them, you're more twisted than your reputation gives you credit for. If not, you're a man whose promises mean nothing. Given the choice, would you prefer to be known as a man who thinks forced cannibalism isn't evil or to be known as someone whose promises are meaningless?"

Rodger grinned at Maverick, apparently amused by the question. "Now, Maverick my good lad, given that cannibalism is defined as eating your own kind, and that no one enjoying today's ice cream special is made of chocolate or even confectionery, how can you count this as being cannibalistic? After all, eating bread imbued with the essence of a divine savior is not viewed as cannibalism by the majority and is instead treated as being a profound blessing.
"

He kept to himself the knowledge that the coach was, like himself and the rest of his clown brigade, a biological android and not technically a human being either.

Mits is a little disappointed at not getting to hear a monologue, but is very please she managed to get a chuckle!  She smirks at Mav's sharp words for the villain.  Good 'ole Mav!

"Much appreciated, sir!  You are correct that I am technically not a member of the student body yet.  Glad to hear that my old heroic deeds are now public record.  Last I was on Earth, they were still bending over backwards to keep the whole 'Parahumans really exist!' a big secret, so I didn't get any cred back then.

"Still, Mav has a point.  Many do not share the belief that transforming a sentient into food and then feeding it to someone is a blessing.  There is certainly at least the risk of someone suffering severe emotional damage should they learn about the truth of the chocolate.  Or should they see a spleen doing laps around the school.  So speaking of technicalities, I am curious what your definition of 'do no evil' is, then."

[Too bad.  I was hoping to trigger the spell!  ;) ]

Maverick thumbs at Mittens. "Just because the dictionary definition of cannibalism doesn't fit the culture's definition doesn't mean the culture will not take it that way. It will still come back to evil by means of emotional damage."

"Well... not so much public record as who I know that knew you back then. However, I would say that you exaggerate by claiming to have last been on Earth before Paras were public knowledge here in Weston. Either that, or you are in the wrong timeline Miss Adventure."

He paused, pursing his lips in thought for a few seconds before continuing. "Now, I am really not the person you want to be asking to define the boundaries of either good or evil. Neither are my demonic patrons. Might I suggest visiting Apokryphos Cafe and arranging an appointment with the owner's mother? She is far more knowledgeable in such philosophical matters than I am, and without the biases of being enslaved to one side or the other."

Mits looks a tad worried about being in the wrong timeline and double-checks the quick recap of the last 5 years she has on her smartphone...  [Mit's assertion was based off the last RP I had here ending with her attempts at going public failing.]

"Ah.  I appreciate the candid answer.  One can easily keep one's promise of 'doing no evil' if one does not even have a definition for 'evil.'  If the word is meaningless, then so is the promise.  And thank you for the recommendation.

"That said, I am now curious of something else: if you were set free from your bondage to your demonic patrons, would you want to be re-enslaved to them?"


[Way past bedtime.  Crashing.  Thx for the fun RPs so far!]

"Certainly not!" he answered Mittens, his expression darkening towards a scowl. "I abhor what they made me into, but I'd rather remain a villain committing atrocities for the rest of my immortal life than cross the moral event horizon necessary to regain my freedom from them. I may be 'ever-wicked', Miss Adventure, but there are still acts which utterly appall and sicken me."

A pair of red-feathered angel wings, sorely hurt and laced with black lines of gangrene and boils, became dimly visible behind his shoulders as The Rich Man's eyes changed, a murky sapphire blue burning through the hellfire. An angel's halo partially faded into visibility above/around his head, warped and distorted with bits of runes bulging from it here and there like tumors or poorly implanted cybernetics. The partial manifestation of his true self cut through the waves of evil, Evil, EVIL that he radiated, revealing that to be an illusion.

Maverick is a little hopeful from what he sees. He musters up the most innocent tone he can (and he can do so without having to force it or act) and asks, "Is it possible for someone like Mittens and I to be friends with someone like you? Like... can we just think of our clashing as a game and have fun rather than friction?"

He asks this for a number of reasons. Primarily to pull the good in Rodger forward some more. Hopefully impress Mittens.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:27, Thu 20 July 2017.

That's what Mittens was expecting from a cartoonish villain.  This transformation was so unexpected, she staggers back with wide-eyed shock.

"That um...  I see."

She forces an awkward side-ways smile in response to Mav's suggestion.  Not expecting a "Yes" answer, but this day has been full of surprises.

"So your original name didn't include 'The Ever Wicked,' then.  Glad to hear that even with said title, you still have some say in just how far you go."

Rodger's expression lightened at Maverick's words, and his eyes returned to hellishly normal as his angelic attributes faded from sight once more. "Why, that is entirely possible, Maverick. Just because two people differ is no reason to deny friendship or any other social relationship between them. However, if you think of clashing as a game, you may lose track of how seriously Para conflicts can impact innocent bystanders. Have fun and enjoy yourself, by all means, but do not forget that isn't the purpose for which heroes exist."

To Mittens, he answered, "Of course it wasn't! I had a perfectly normal, ordinary name for the great majority of my life, until evil magic was forced upon me without so much as an 'excuse me' or even asking if I wanted it." His eyes unfocused as he continued, while he moved through the spell menus to a different minor spell. "While I do retain a good deal of free will, I also have to keep up appearances. Seeing as you are a heroine, and not part of the student body, I am allowed to do something unpleasant to you..."

His eyes focused, and looked sharply at Mittens. He spoke again in a much deeper, more menacing voice as white runes sparked in the air and flew towards her kittenish face. "Curse of Excessive and Unreasonable Homework!" " Thirty thousand page essay, due Monday." he concluded in his normal voice again.

Students around them winced and flinched in shock hearing that curse.

Mav looks over to Mittens. Then looks back to the groaning students. Then says, "Who here wants to have the opportunity to say they helped a superhero? If all of you pitch in, you can help Mittens complete this paper in time!"

He's fully expecting a "no thanks" or "oh look! My uncle called and needs help moving!" or something.

Either way, he looks back at Rodger. "I'll heed your words, Mister. Let's go, Mittens. We have a paper to write."

He reaches to grab her hand as if being forceful about getting her out of here. Of course, if students offer help but won't leave the premises, Mav will collect emails before leaving.

Rodger's answer to Mav got a beaming smile from Mittens.  Hurray!  Sometimes nice to have your expectations go unmet.  She had a sympathetic look when the man in green tells of his unfortunate backstory, but then she got hit with the curse.  She staggers back like she was hit by a ton of books.

"Wha?!  No fair!  That's not possible even pulling all-nighters!"

She gets all weepy-eyed and defeated looking.  "And... and... weekends are supposed to be for fun..."

Miss Adventure, now more like Miss Mopey, is easily dragged by the tug of the small child.

"Well if you're gunna slam-dunk me so hard, the least you can do is release the coach from your spell.  I didn't even call you names."

The Rich Man grinned at them both, mischief twinkling in those hellfire-infested eyes. "You are a superhero, Mittens. Find a clever way out of the trap." Indeed there was one, probably more, but whether or not the two young do-gooders would spot it remained to be seen. And he would be watching, or would try to, like a good teacher ought to.

Maverick got looks and comments of sympathy, but no offers to help from the college students.
Rodger said nothing in response to Mittens' request that he release Coach Thompson. He had no intention of doing that, not after the coach had worked for weeks talking him into to doing this gig to him. Would the adventurous kitten understand, if he told her? That, he did not want to find out. Better to let her be shocked at some future time, should she investigate and thwart his plots enough.

With Mittens passively in tow, Maverick heads just outside of the gym and says, "Alright... he said he could hack your portals. Let's see if he actually did anything to your portals."

Maverick does have a theory, though... actually, he has a couple theories. He begins typing on his phone and shows it to Mittens:



Maverick expects Mittens will never go for the chocolate eating. He himself will probably only do so after he has exhausted every last idea he can think of. And he has quite a few outside this latest text.

On that note, Maverick shows the paper note from earlier to Mittens. "Here are some things you can try to portal to me."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:32, Fri 21 July 2017.

Pout becomes angry pout after that last remark from Rodger.  https://i.warosu.org/data/vr/i...21/1374386918382.jpg

Outside she complains to Maverick, "As much as Mittens wants to find a clever solution, her mind is filled with panic over meeting the Monday deadline!  And just how many red marks 30,000 pages will have after it's graded.  There's just no way you can get a passing grade with that many chances for grammatical error!  The proof-reading alone would take months!  And the number of books to have enough footnotes to justify an essay of that length would fill several libraries!"

She paces back and forth a bit before even noticing Mav.  Through a force of will aided by her deep seated desire to not have to do the essay, she reads what he had written.  "Um.  Can't.  Even if I instantly filled out all the paperwork, the school's clerks wouldn't have them processed by Monday.

"I am not eating choco-coach.

"...that's a weird list.  OK."

Mits attempts to portal Mav the items on his list. "I don't even have a topic yet, much less a thesis statement!"

(OOC: Mitts cleared up with me about the portals not actually being under your spell)

Upon seeing Mitts portal the items, Maverick says, "Well... I don't know whether to be relieved or worried that your portal worked. Gimme a minute..." He does some quick research on his smartphone and gets a weirded-out look. Apparently, adding catsup to chocolate is actually a recipe people like.

He puts his phone away and looks back at Mittens and wiggles his fingers at her like he's casting a spell. "Curse of the protagonist. Don't worry about doing the paper. If you wanna break the curse, maybe you can find a way to either put it off or a way around the rules he set. But no matter what homework anyone gave you, you would sooner flunk it than let someone melt to death, right? So at the least, you should focus on this. Which reminds me... did you take care of the heaters?"

(OOC: Putting these here to remind myself: oil, fog horn, rubber ducky, a pillow, realistic toy snake, fake blood, a pair of panties. Also, unrelated to this list: Sand)

The fact that her portals work as intended barely register.  While Mav does his research, Mits does some of her own as she paces and mutters,  "There's gotta be a rule against... no.  No.  'Magic.'  So normal people rules against unreasonable homework need not apply.

"If I pick a topic I love, by the time I'm done I'll hate the topic!  And good luck deciding on a topic that I don't care about that I'm willing to put this kind of effort into.

"There was that 3-page essay I did in high school.  All I'd need to do is puff it up 10,000 times.  Ugh!"

To Mav's spell, Mits sweatdrops.  "He's fine.  Heating element disabled.  Which means I don't have any imminent threat that I can use as an excuse for missing Monday's deadline.  Maybe if I...  No.  Alternate Reality Me warned that I can't get away with that.  DARNIT!"

Poof!  A desk, chair, laptop, and pile of encyclopedia appear and Mittens gets to work flipping through the articles.  "Grumble, grumble, bet there isn't even 30,000 pages in this whole set, grumble."

Maverick can see he won't have Mitts' help until she gets rid of this curse. He writes something on a piece of paper so he doesn't have to say it out loud before handing it to Mittens. It reads: "He said 30,000 pages. He didn't say how many words."

Mittens lights up!  "Brilliant!"

She adjusts the font size on her doc to 576 points.  The letter fills the page!  "Now how many words does that mean..."

With a quick web search for an estimate of how many characters per page on average...  "I only need to write 10 pages worth!  Hot dang!  But that still leaves printing 30,000 pages.  Unleeess..."

Mits double-checks the definition of "page."

"HA!  The dictionary doesn't give a limit to how small a page can be!"

She conjures a copy of her old 3-page essay then levitates the pages.  "LASERS!"

A beam of light shoots out from her alien contact lens and slices through the essay, turning it into 32,784 pieces of confetti which she floats neatly into a couple Pez dispensers!  "Ohmygosh I can't believe I'm done!  Ahah!  Ahahahaha!"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:08, Sun 23 July 2017.

Maverick says, "He doesn't need to know you are done the essay either. It's due Monday. So let's figure out what we are going to do when we return to the gym."

He presents the items Mitts teleported to him. "What I have here are multiple possible plans. But before I continue that thought... do you have a plan? Now that you have experienced his evil first hand?"

"Um... glue his lips shut?  His spells seem to need a verbal component...

"Can't be that easy.  So no!  I am planless."

Maverick says, "There is the classic of feeding him laxative so he's too busy with the john to bother with spells. And if your portals can port something into a person's stomach directly, that would be handy. But now that I've spoken with him, I'm trying not to be too mean. Which, I guess, means you can send the panties back where you got them."

He waits for Mittens to do so before he explains, "The oil and pillow go together. I want oil for him to slip on, but the pillow so he doesn't injure his face when he falls. The pillow would be put on his face so he can't see or accurately cast spells. The fog horn would be used to startle him into falling. The fake blood goes with the snake; have the toy snake sneak up on him and his clown and 'bite' them. The fake blood will be there to convince them the snake was real, especially once you portal the snake away."

Poof went the panties.

"That uh...  wow!  Nice plans!"

Mits thinks on it a little.  "How are we going to restore choco-coach to normal without wizard face's releasing him from the spell?  Ya know what?  This looks like a job for the police.  If I screw this up and someone gets turned into chocolate rain, I'm going to be charged with reckless endangerment."

She starts dialing.  "Spending so much time in space I got used to the idea of not having the option of calling for the cops when 9 times out of 10 the 'cops' were soldiers of one evil empire or another."

Maverick says, "Already done." he shows Mittens his text from earlier.



Maverick says, "Have you ever heard of someone being charged for reckless endangerment when trying to defend people from a criminal? Reckless endangerment is for people who do things with a lack of care for others' safety. Are you sure this can't be solved without innocent people getting hurt?"

Mits stops dialing.  "I shoulda known.  It's been a while.  Good to see you again!  I trust you got the birthday cards I asked my parents to mail.  Sorry I didn't visit.  Only had time to pop in on my folks once in a while.  Long story.

"Thanks for the encouragement.  I'm aiming at joining the authorities myself one way or another.  Lawful aligned parents insisted.  And they were the ones saying that heroes get charged with crimes here on Earth."

She considers the gym.  "I don't want to risk directly confronting him now that I've felt the sting of his magic.  And since things aren't super dangerous urgent right now, it's probably best we serve as a supplement to the cops when they show up rather than take this guy on ourselves."

Maverick nods. "If the cops show up. I texted Matt earlier and he had made it out like this guy is not really a problem. And from what I know about him, he is relatively harmless. But I did mention about the coach..."

He leans against the wall. "Without some means of combating his magic, it would be a pretty one-sided fight if we confronted him directly... buuuuut... he is a known villain."

He brightens up. "He gave you homework. How about you give him detention? Surely your portals can lead to a place like limbo or something where there is no escape? Give him a note that tells him he will remain in detention until he releases the coach from the spell?"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:08, Sun 23 July 2017.

Mits starts dialing again.  "I'll see if they're coming or not.  He claimed he can hack my portals, but didn't say anything about being able to hack my pocket dimension.  Works as a good holding cell for most villains.  Still, without knowing the full potential of his magic, it might be very dangerous to put a wizard in there.  Perhaps you've heard what happens when you drop a portable hole into a bag of holding?  It's not good.

...more like infernal pact warlock, but whatever."

Mav waits to see the results of the phonecall.

On Mittens' phone:
*rinnggg*
*riiiinnnnnggg*

"Weston City Police Dept., Sgt. White speaking. What is the problem?"

Mittens answers, "Hi there, sir!  I am a teleporter superhero code-named Miss Adventure.  I've spotted a nefarious Parahuman who goes by the alias, 'The Rich Man' at the Weston State gym.  He's apparently kidnapped the coach and subjected him some strange transmutation.  A friend of the police force texted details earlier, and I wanted to be sure of how soon there will be officers here on the scene.  If they're caught in traffic, I can get them here in a jiffy!"

Mits opens a small portal to the police department to look around to see if she can spot the officer she's talking to.  Always fun to see the looks on their faces.

"The Rich Man you said? At Weston State University? I'm pulling up his file... Oh. Does it involve chocolate and ice cream? Do you have any cause to suspect that this activity may be a cover for anything more sinister, Miss Adventure?" the policewoman's voice asked on the phone.

The portal opens to a room with a number of uniformed officers handling phone calls and busy on their computers trying to help route complaints and issues to the proper people within the department.

"Yes, yes, yes, and yes," Mittens answers.

She holds up a sign that asks, "Looking for Sgt. White," as she searches the office, hoping one of the officers will point her in the right direction.  Names on desks may help there, too.

"Okay." There's the sound of fingers on a keyboard as she does something. "What have you observed, Miss Adventure, and why do you feel that this warrants police assistance rather than that of your fellow superheroes?"


OOC: Please clarify how your portal works here. Are you transporting to the police, or opening a portal to view through?

"I have learned that Rodger Ra, AKA 'The Rich Man' is under the influence of powerful evil beings, so it's pretty safe to say that everything he's up to is sinister.  As for why police and not Parahumans, the answer is because I'm new to this scene.  I've been out of touch for 5 years, and the way I remember it working is: if you see a crime in progress, you're legally obligated to call the police about it.  Regardless of what kind of crime or criminal.

"So how soon before the squad cars get here?  Would it be simpler if I were to teleport him, his minion, and his victim right into one of your holding cells?  Or would that be technically kidnapping because I'm not wearing a badge?"

Mits gives Mav a shrug.

OOC: The latter.  The physical spaces are currently considered adjacent.  So if a cop were to do a spit-take from Mittens' face flying by as she searches for Sgt. White, she would get wet.

"In this case, that might be construed as kidnapping. Rodger-Ra the Ever-Wicked
and two members of the University faculty informed us a bit over a month ago of their intent to put on a piece of performance art there, today. It's been cleared with us ahead of time.
" she explained.

Your flying face gets several hairy eyeballs from officers, but no words. One rather overweight officer points at you (while on the headset/phone with someone), then points somewhere behind himself and to his right.

Mits gives an apologetic smile to the glares.  When she sees the fat one waving her over, she wiggles her sign asking for Sgt. White as she obeys the hand gestures of the officer.  Meanwhile, she looks to Mav and points at the phone with a WTF look.

"A piece of performance art cleared ahead of time, you say?  I wonder why, then, when I asked him nicely to release the coach from his spell he did not say as much.  It could be that he was blowing smoke and mirrors at the police in order to delay any response when a concerned citizen called it in.  Or maybe he was wanting to bait a hero into breaking the law.  Thank you for clearing that bit up about kidnapping and justifying my inquiry."

She does a quick search of the school's online events website to see if there's any mention of this "performance art" event.  She suspects that this is more the former than the latter.  Mostly because if it were the latter, Murphey's Law would have sent a more reckless and impulsive...  hero...  OK maybe such a thing doesn't exist.  Must be Maverick's influence that she thought to call the police.

For his sake she switches to speaker, not realizing that if that was Sgt. White who just waved her over, there might be a feedback loop on the phone soon depending on the headset mic's sensitivity.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:20, Tue 25 July 2017.

With your face flying off in the direction the fat man pointed, you realize that you're hearing the same voice in the room as over the phone when Sgt. White answers. She seems to be a light-skinned black woman in her twenties, rather plain of face with a professional attitude at her work.

Your search of the school event calendar shows "Free Ice Cream Day" as one of today's events. It's quite normal sounding, nothing like "Ceiling Squid Invasion" that's scheduled for 7 pm in the chemistry building or tomorrow's guest lecture by Gorgonzola the Cheese Witch.

Mits stifles a laugh when she sees the event list.  "Well it looks like it was registered with the school after all.  So maybe no crime was committed here yet, if the coach volunteered for his part in all this.  Hi there, Sgt. White!"

Miss Adventure smiles and waves cheerfully at the officer, opening the portal to be big enough for Maverick and the nice lady to see each other.  She turns speaker phone off at this point.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:40, Tue 25 July 2017.

Maverick waves, giving a small smile to Officer White.

He isn't entirely sure why Mittens did that, but he doesn't mind seeing the people at the police office.

"Hello, Miss Adventure," Sgt. White said, clearly surprised by this visit from her caller. Her computer screen has three windows open. One is clearly internal police communications, one is Mittens' own file, and one is that of some middle-aged man with glasses, red hair liberally graying, and a beard. "What is the coach's name?" she asked, flashing Maverick a smile seeing him past the feline-faced heroine and recognizing the lad.


OOC: Has it been 10 minutes yet? I.e., should Matt be worrying about Mav given the last communication?

(OOC: Thanks for the reminder. It probably has been about 10 minutes)

Mav answers the officer. "Dunno. But there are lots of students. Mittens, could you ask one of the students at the statue? Make sure you are out of Rodger's line of sight."

Maverick checks his timer and sees it has almost been 10 minutes. He txts Matt with "This is proving more time-consuming than initially expected. Might also actually be cleared by police anyway. Adding another 10 minutes."

Mits has her alien tech project an image of the choco-coach for Sgt. White.  "Dunno.  That didn't come up in the conversation.  Mav might know.  He tends to be a font of knowledge.  Does casting a mind-control spell on an unwilling person count as a crime yet?  'cause that happened.  It was unpleasant."

Why the window?  Because Mittens doesn't want to be written off as a crank call.  And because she's a face-to-face kinda person.  And because she's sure that by now Mav is on a first-name basis with the police force.  And she likes to show off.  Shall I keep going?  Mittens has lots of reasons!

Mittens sends a doppelganger to ask students outside the gym.  Not going to risk whatever evil spell might be in store for her if she goes back in.

"Heh.  If it is illegal, I'll need to be careful about who I use my Jedi mind tricks on.  ...not that I wouldn't have even if it weren't."

"That's a fairly complex question. Mind control on an unwilling person is generally villainous, but can also be used to save people from suicide, force a suspect to stand down, or calm down a person who is hysterical, for example, the Sgt. said, thinking this over. "Additionally, if it was Rodger-Ra who cast it, there are complicating circumstances given his registration and paradisability."


The doppleganger gets an answer: Al Thompson is the coach's name, and from the way students talk he seems to be well-liked. Perhaps the team has been winning a lot.

"Al Thompson!  Seems to be well liked..."

Mittens mouths the word first before echoing, "'Paradisability?'"

She surfs for a definition.

"Alan Thompson... yes, he is one of the others who posted this event with us. So I would presume that whatever Rodger-Ra a.k.a. The Rich Man did to him was consensual."

"Paradisability. A handicap connected with someone's Parahuman abilities. At least here in Weston City, they are recognized as qualifying for ADA protection, although that is far from statewide yet." the Sgt. helpfully explains.

Maverick asks plainly, "Then what should I do about him right now? Play along with his event? Or leave?"

"That is your decision to make," Sgt. White answered Maverick.

Mittens mutters as she reads information on the Americans with Disabilities Act then staggers as another part of the response is processed.

"Consensual?!  Being turned into chocolate and fed to people...  That's.  That's a whole new level of pervy fetish that I don't even want to begin to think about."

You might be surprised at how many people want to be eaten, Mittens.  https://i.imgur.com/NOECI0s.gifv  ...on the internet, anyway.  Probably not the best sources for figuring out what counts as "pervy" or not.

"But even if, somehow, the coach agreed to being eaten, did the students agree to being fed Soilent Green?!  'Free Ice Cream' doesn't mean, 'Oh and by the way, one of the ingredients is pureed baby seals.'  Even if there's some bizarre 'disability' that makes one have to be inhumane no matter what, that doesn't mean the ADA is a free ticket to assisted suicide and hiding the body in the stomachs of unsuspecting bystanders!"

Thinking back on her travels in space...  Nope.  No aliens pulled anything quite like this.

Sgt. White looked confused, then concerned, and then sick to her stomach as the implications of what Mittens was saying sank in. She started typing furiously in the police communication window of her computer, determination coming to her face.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:12, Wed 26 July 2017.

Maverick looked taken aback by Sgt White's response to him, but he calms a little as Mittens speaks up and White starts taking this a bit more seriously. So he looks over at Mittens, sighs in relief, and turns back to watching to see what comes of White's typing.

"Guy's practically confessed on video, by the way," Mittens adds, "I've got a hidden camera and mic."

Mits offers Mav a yo-yo and opens two portals for him to play with.  She's got lots more to say, but her Jedi training helps her keep her trap shut when doing so is more likely to lead to more adventure.  That's the key to self-discipline.  So long as you can keep your priorities straight, it's not so hard to OOH SHINY!

...we never said she graduated from said training.