WAR'S UNWOMANLY FACE

Late night, small room, small talk, some brandy, some chess. These types love to flaunt. Around the table, nothing like those old, tired professors that usually crowd the halls of Nouveau University. Not this time anyway.

Agnes Mouffe, around her fourties, presides the meeting. The young adjunt's responsible for this. By her side, Donna Garrett sports a pair of lively eyes, checking Dor'aan and S.On.N.Y. with curiosity. She represents Nouveau's government in this meeting... And in many other occasions.

"Nouveau can't take the tension any longer" - it's Agnes that speaks first. "Miss Garrett's right. Our shelters are full, our docks, crowded... And amidst them we have metas. Plenty of them." - she takes a small silver case, opens it up and offers cigarrettes around.

Donna waves it away. "Law enforcement can'r hold on anymore. Things are escalading. Meta-human crime rates abound. We have three Tongs at war in Sunken Chinatown; the Corduroys hirering muscle from meta immigrants; more than one company engaging in illegal experiments. We need to take point in this. And that's why I called you here" - Agnes grunts at the observation. "We called you here. We think you two might help us find a solution - something we can present at the Development Summit next week."


[Welcome to City Nouveau... As meta-humans from around the globe arrive, tensions increase and danger lurks at every corner... You can roll insight or any knowledge appropriate to understand what's happening - as well as you role in it! DC 15]
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:15, Mon 30 Sept 2019.

S.On.N.Y. shifted uncomfortably under Donna Garrett's curious gaze even when the bulk of his attention was set to attentively listening to Agnes.  He relaxed slightly when Garrett's own insights relaxed her scrutiny in favor of the task at hand, only to tense back up at her verbal fire.  The issues she was passionately spewing out resonated out with Walker, but he felt like he should be better familiar with everything she was saying, or like there were details that he might be missing.

The worst part is that they all seemed to be expecting a clear answer to the issue at hand, on hand.  Walker shifted again in his seat, nervously smoothing down the suit Colin and one of his many tailors had sworn was good for small but formal gatherings.  He sent a nervous glance to Dor'aan Miilou, the Atlantean/Argent hybrid, hoping that the other 'meta' would volunteer some insight and take the pressure off.  Without much confidence in that happening, Walker drew a sip from his sniffer to buy himself some time to piece together what information he could recall on the matter in question and on the Tongs and Corderoys that might prove relevant.


20:33, Today: S.On.N.Y. rolled 15 using 1d20+9. Expertise: Current events (Eidetic Memory).

[I'll forward the talk a bit, till we hear from Dor, ok?]

Dor quickly slides in, offering all sorts of suggestions in a soft, polite manner. The women seem satisfied, although they tend to shoot each other down during the meeting. It doesn't take too much for S.On.N.Y. to realize they want atlantean support to push the yankees away. S.On.N.Y. wouldn't be surprised if they went on to do it again later on, with different people and american diplomats playing his and Dor's parts.

Something's makig S.On.N.Y. nervous, though. He can't quite put his finger on it...

It's Agnes that turns to him first.

"So, if we are to make this work, we need two fronts: one, we need your atlanteans backing us up. A few members of your guard should do, Dor. On the other side, we need to inject some resources on this. We're prepared to offer your family a wing within university grounds and a concession to work on the industrial zone with that new metal league of yours" - S.On.N.Y.'s foster father has been investing great sums on a new league with many future uses - or at least he hopes so. "For now, we need you to call on your contacts and making the Argonaut acquisition by the atlantean commonwealth a reality. Could you do this for us?"

Something's wrong. And it's not the conversation...

[Please, roll perception!]

Walker fought the near-constant urge to shift uncomfortably in his seat.  It wasn't just them looking at him; What they were asking of him was also a little taboo.  Despite how the media liked to spin things, Walker didn't feel like he had any right to Mr. Germane's goodwill.  He never asked, Colin never offered, and at least for now that was how they both liked it.  On the other hand, he didn't really feel comfortable telling people 'no....'

"I can tell him -erm, I will present your offer to Mr. - to my foster father...."  Walker shifted uncomfortably, trying to stay formal and at least somewhat authoritative.  Not his strong suit.  Even the liberty he had claimed felt uncomfortable.  Sure; it was true enough, and Mr. Germane used familiar speech with Walker all the time - 'Sonny,' 'Son,' 'My Boy,' - but he'd never expressly said Walker could refer to him as Walker's father.  Foster or otherwise.  Apologies would have to be made later, right after Walker relayed on the events of the evening to his- to Mr. Germane.

OOC: 23:48, Today: S.On.N.Y. rolled 21 using 1d20+19.  Perception.

S.On.N.Y.'s eyes roll around as he looks for comfort... Until he sees it: across the street, at the same height they now occupy - the 50th floor, give or take - a scope glimmers against the streetlights, far below. The gun's length threatens to shoot any second! It's one of the three inside - the shot's certainly meant for one of them! Considering the position, he'd bet Dor's the target. The atlantean didn't notice a thing... S.On.N.Y. senses it, he can nearly hear it. The barrel explodes, letting the bullet out, travelling at an alarming speed, right towards the atlanteans chest!

[Ok, what do you do? Remember to roll initiative first!]

Walker tensed up when he saw the distant glimmer, though obvious to his heightened senses.  He bolted upright, arm extending dramatically towards the impending bullet.  Sunset red burned in
S.On.N.Y.'s eyes, and the air around him rippled like the surface of a pool.  A 'shield' of similar turbulence formed in front of Dor'aan, hopefully in time to both stop the bullet and return to sender.  "Everyone get down!"  He shouted out at the same time, surprisingly authoritatively for such a soft-spoken lad.

OOC:
Using a Hero point to act out of turn:

Free action: Moving points into Deflect
Standard action: Deflect
(Possible Free action: Reflect)

13:45, Today: S.On.N.Y. rolled 19 using 1d20+12 ((7)). +10 for a die roll of 10 or under; Deflect the bullet 29
11:51, Today: S.On.N.Y. rolled 11 using 1d20.  Reflect.

21:59, Today: S.On.N.Y. rolled 7 using 1d20+6.  Initiative.

The sound of exploding glass is followed by a small hole on the window. S.On.N.Y. manages to deflect the bullet right on time, forcing it to hit the opposing wall, where it's now lodged.

Both women hit the ground as soon as they hear the noise! Dor himself dives down, trying to cover them! He looks around, seeking to find an explanation for the occurrence.

"Friends of yours?" - he immediately asks S.On.N.Y. "Or perhaps they're after our official representative figures here?" - clearly, he mocks; after all, he was the target.

"Ideas? I don't think we can reach the door. Or fly across the street, for that matter." - he finishes gathering his thoughts.

Unlike the others, Walker didn't duck.  He never really had cause to learn that particular defensive tactic as anything more than conceptual understanding - conversely, he had once disappointed Mr. Germane by scuffing the knees of a suit by being a tad bit too athletic while wearing it.  "Apologies that I failed to spot him early enough to stop the shot from being fired, Messrs.  I'll will do what I can to prevent a second."  He softly repented.  He took a misplaced sip of brandy to hide the embarrassed blush in his cheeks as he had done under Miss Garrett's inquisitive gaze earlier, as though eyes on him was a greater threat than a sniper.

His still-glowing eyes remaining locked on the shooter, Walker brought a wave of the same force that had spared Dor'aan unpleasant contact with a bullet down on the distant shooter.  Tons worth of force encircled the assailant in a bubble of otherwise innocuous glassy ribbons.

In reply to S.On.N.Y. (msg # 8):

A quick glance later and the shooter's safely encased, his weapons made useless as he loses his grasp and sense of orientation. Walker can see it from the distance: the man levitates, desperate and struggling. After a long pause, which reassures that no other shot will be triggered, the three others rise to their feet once more. The women are still gathering their thoughts, while Dor realings his tie with a soft smile.

"Well, I should thank you, I suppose." - his soft, polite voice has a soothing tone to it. "I take it we are safe for now? - he looks straight towards the other side of the street. "What exactly happened? Would you ... care to guess?" - he asks around, as if hoping that someone might hand out a few more details, or maybe some reason for such a sudden attack.

Walker hid behind his drink again while the others composed themselves.  While he remained perfectly presentable, the rising from the floor and individual touching up the others were doing in front of him made him feel stiff and overdressed.  He hoped that someone else would say something, beyond Dor'aan's request for information, but even a moment of silence was uncomfortable given the circumstances.  "I don't like to guess....  We could just ask."  He suggested meekly, sounding more like a question than a statement, waiting for signs of someone else's approval.

Once he was confident in his grip on the shooter, Walker pulled the man across the empty gulf separating the buildings and held the man up where the broken pane should have been.  After a quick, heavily beta-type glance at Dor and the ladies, S.On.N.Y. turned his flustered gaze towards the would-be assassin.  It was probably clear to everyone, shooter included, that Walker wasn't really the authoritarian type, glowing eyes et al notwithstanding; on the other hand, Walker's overt nervousness was at least as endearing as his unwittingly heart-wrenching aesthetic, and that said a lot.

"No one needs to get hurt.  So, mister, why'd you shoot at us?"  He softly pleaded as though he were the one helplessly suspended in midair.  "Did someone send you or something?"