He thinks about it a moment, then sighs.  "We're supposed to meet up at a motel afterwards.  One in town.  The Sleepy Inn.  Room 14."

He shakes his head.  "I don't know who else is involved.  Everything I did was by phone an' IMs.  No personal contact."
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:41, Fri 29 Dec 2023.

I press the issue. "What time? What numbers in the calls and IMs?"

I get out my notepad to write it down.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 34):

He takes out his phone.  You jot down information.

Dad studies it and nods. "I can have some people track this.  May take them some time.  What do you think about this lead with the motel room?"

"Should we make it our business? Will we get winged for vigilante activity?" I ask Dad.

"Okay, thanks. Now I'll need your full legal name. If this info is good, I'll recommend that you not be charged and I'll testify that you assisted if they decide to go ahead anyway," I tell the guy.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:46, Wed 03 Jan.

He shuts his lips tightly, pursing them like a duck.  He turns his head slightly, looking away, while scratching the back of his head.  "Harold.  Harold Dongle.  Okay?  That's my real name."

Dad cocks an eyebrow at your question about legality.  "You do remember your Mom and I are considered FBI special agents, right?"

"Of course. That's why I'm asking you. Is this the kind of thing you're allowed to do legally?"

I write down Harold Dongle's name.

Harry Dongle.

It's a good thing I am very practiced at self-control and icy calm, or I would giggle a lot.

I tap the dude to send him back into regular time.

"Next up, Gadget Girl."

Gadget Woman...thank you very much...gives a start.

She looks around, then at you and Dad, and snaps her compact shut.

"Guess my cover's been blown then.  I'm reaching for my badge."

She reaches into her coat and pulls out a badge.

Agent Loretta Swalworth

Office of Justice

Meta Crimes Division

Dad groans.  "Not you bastards again..."

Agent Swalworth snorts.  "We're always on the job."  She turns to you.  "You are interfering with a delicate operation.  Can you kindly return me to where I was?"

"Huh."

I am slightly surprised by this development.

"Yeah. Do you know where the bombs are? Or the conspirators? We caught one guy and a bunch of the bombs."

I get out my notepad to check the list of names and numbers while I wait for an answer. Just in case.

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 40):

She glares at you and Dad, then adjusts the glasses on the tip of her nose.

"Well why don't you tell me what you found.  And I'll tell you if you got them all."

I diligently read off the names with flat affect, then I list out the locations of the bombs we found.

I occasionally glance at Dad to see his reaction to this woman. She might not be legit, like the guard wasn't.

Dad is giving her the hairy eyeball.  He's clearly not happy she's here, though he doesn't seem to be tensing up to punch her.

But who knows?  The night is still young.

She whips out her cell phone and starts tapping on it, taking down notes of everything you've said.

"Excellent!  We'll take it from here."

She glances towards the security guard.  "I'll take him into custody as well."

And boop, back into normal time she goes.

"She seems extremely suspicious to me," I say to Dad, now that we're Sideways and she's not. I wish it was a still a pause button on life...but I guess it never was. I was just ignorant.

"The sort of thing a clever conspiracy would plant, just in case a telepath or a superspeed kid or whatever was around to thwart their plans. Is there any way we can verify her identity?"

Dad sighs.  Heavily.

"Well.  She could be.  But I'm afraid all MCD agents act like that.  So if she is a plant, she's done her homework.

"I can call some people and verify her ID.  But I gotta do that in real time.  And it will take time.  Specially since most of 'em will be at home or out with their family.

"Though I am wondering what MCD is doing here.  And why.  If they knew there were bombs..."

He shrugs.

"Then again.  MCD does dumb stuff sometimes."

I then proceed over to Pibbnoculars. At the kendo tournament, there was a guy like this, spying from a car. I open his car door and tap him on the shoulder.

"My name is Seraphina Martel. There is an active bomb threat and you are spying on the proceedings, which is very suspicious. Can you explain yourself?"

Pibbnocular.  I may have to steal that one from you.

He is raising the last bite of his chili dog to his mouth as you tap him.  He blinks, listens tow what you say with a calm face, and pops the last of the chili dog into his mouth.

Holding up a finger as if to ask you to give him a moment, he washes it down with the last of his Mr. Pibb.

He then turns to you, and screams.

It's like being next to a jet engine.  There's an actual physical force to it.  You are pushed back against the door of the car.  But only for a moment.  It buckles and shoots outwards, sending you flying out of the car.

You being you, you land on your feet.  Your ears are ringing.  And you feel a little wobbly.  Your eardrums must have gotten blitzed.  But otherwise, you are upright and ready for whatever action you wish to take.

He's jumping out of the driver's side door of the car.

I'm glad you like it. =D

I skid to a stop by digging my fingers into the pavement, making gouges in the concrete. I've been waiting for the chance to kick some ass. I knew someone who voluntarily drank Mr. Pibb had to be up to no good.

I crouch and sweep out my leg, catching a planter box and kicking it so hard it comes free of the ground and flies at the car, putting a solid object between myself and Pibbnoculars for a moment. Even without cheating by pausing time, I'm significantly faster than reaction speed robots. Fast enough, in fact, that I'm not thinking about what I do. It is all training, instinct, and intuition.

Since this guy can project force with his voice, I want to stay on the ground. If I jump up, I won't have leverage to stand still in the blast. I dash forward, with the planter box sailing in front of me, aiming a low tackle right at his midsection. If it connects, it'll drive the wind right out of him.

Hey now!  I drink Mr. Pibb!  And Fresca!

A sound strategy.  Only one issue.  He fires again.

The planter explodes in a spray of cheaply made ceramics and poorly maintained shrubbery.

The guy is running around the back of the car, seeming to try to get it out of the way from his line of fire at you.

And you're up to no good! =p

I passed my second IRS enrolled agent exam Wednesday. Just one more...

I get tired of exams. I've taken so many. So far none of them have make a career or even a decent-paying job.

"Hey Dad! Help me throw stuff at him!"

I enthusiastically start chucking heavy, dense things in screamy boy's direction, advancing under cover of the barrage. He'll run out of stamina soon enough; I've yet to meet someone who can outlast me. Then again, that might be because I beat them down before they get a chance to. If adding Dad's output to the mix doesn't help, then I'll need a new strategy.

Screamy sure does have some stamina.  ALso some moves.  He manages to twist aside from anything he doesn't scream out of mid air.

Dad watches a bit, then jumps, landing beside Screamy and swats off his head.

Just swings a fist and the guy's head goes flying across the parking lot.

You can see it bounce about forty feet away.

I stand up and dust myself off, patting my skirt.

"Nice shot!"

Dad killing a guy isn't entirely new to me. I've never seen him do it in person, but he's a law enforcement officer, and I know he's done it before. Mom too. And I'm pretty sure I'll kill people, too. I'm trying not to think about it and failing.

"And no calling me Little Anvil."

I go to stand over the body and evaluate the carnage.

"Now that I know that this place is sort of a transitional state for the dead, let's see if a ghost comes out or something."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 52):

Dad cocks an eyebrow.  "Uhmm...princess..."

He hoists the torso up by it's collar and tips it, giving you a view down the neck hole.

No guts.  You recall now that there wasn't any blood.

Inside are wires, diodes, all the things that mark Screamy as ultratech.

Dad shrugs.  "I've seen enough androids to know what to look for.  But this is just a stand in."

"A stand in for a particular person, like a simulacrum? Do you think someone was 'piloting' it?"

I don't know much about ultratech. They couldn't fit in advanced technical education with everything else.

"Why did it want to finish its hot dog and drink? That seems strange for an android."

In reply to Seraphina Martel (msg # 54):

Dad shrugs.  "I don't know much more about the high tech stuff than you do.  As far as the food...could be part of it's disguise.  It'd look more...uh..."natural" I guess...if someone saw it eating and drinking."

"It could be how it powers itself."  Mom waltzes into Limbo, glancing at the headless automaton, joining the conversation as if she had been there all along.  "There are a few builders out there who mimic organic systems.  Hot dog powered androids have less fuel issues than ones powered by some kind of battery set up.

"I got tired of waiting.  Yeah, yeah.  I know it hasn't even been a second out there.  But I just felt like I was missing something fun.

"What did you find?"

"A spy android, a guy dressed as a security guard staking the place out who gave a list of names and numbers, and someone claiming to be a federal law enforcement agent who just demanded that we had out everything. Can you verify that lady is legit?"

I lead Mom over to where the woman is frozen in time again.

"Well it's not like there's an ap for identifying federal agents you know Seraphina."

"We could probably call Doleman."  Dad turns his head at your inquisitive stare.  "Doleman is a field agent with the FeeBees.  We've done some work for him before so he owes us a favor or so."

"Well yes.  We can.  But it's what time of night in DC?  I doubt we'll get him until the morning.

"As for the android...well.  That seems to have been taken care of, hasn't it?  This security guard...were any of those names interesting?"

Dad gives her a look that seems to have some kind of meaning, but then shrugs.  "No name on it stood out to me at least."

"Hmmm," Mother hmms, "You know who you should ask Seraphina?  Someone with the Dragons.  I beat they can find out for you rather quickly."