A SEASON FOR EVERYTHING

Sarah Connors, Joey Campbell, Garry Blake.

The names roll around in their minds, each a question to be answered. Beneath their feet, the dead woman - shot through the heart - held a small card with their names on it. The appartment itself was a mess: clearly someone ravaged the place, looking for something. The woman - Nina Santori - just happened to get home on the wrong hour. The '22 she held on the other hand showed she wasn't just gonna play victim.

Sarah Connors, Joey Campbell, Garry Blake...

A couple of days before Isadora had met Santori. She was lecturing at a local bookstore. Nina wrote a book - some fancy study on the war and it's consequences for the city. As Nguyen watched the lecture, something rang true, like an old memory of important events - events linked to the future, her future.

She knew she had to talk to the woman.

No such luck, though. By the time they arrived, she was already gone.

[Cops ain't here yet. You get to investigate without their interference if you want. But you gotta be quick. Or maybe... twist the clock. :)]

Isadora wasn't happy with this. She also didn't believe in coincidences. What was written was something important. Something meaningful. Something that needed to be expanded upon.

She looked to the man with her. To the man who she still wasn't quite certain of. Everything took time with her. A lot of time, something she had but most people did not. The gem on her head was blue at the moment with a traditional sapphire cut. "So, do we investigate now, do I see who killed her...I should do that regardless. Or do we try to stop this from happening? I think she may be important. And those involved may be as well. Perhaps we can start with yesterday or the day before. After I met her but before this happened?" She didn't think in terms of crimes but stopping them or making sure they happened depending on what may be best for the future. In this moment, though, she looked forward while letting him think. She looked forward to see if this may be something good or bad. She then looked back to see if the killer could be seen, though she figured a masked figure would be involved. It so oft was.

If the law had already been over the crime scene, Edgar Morris may have shown up under the pretense of investigating a crime for a client protected by confidentiality laws. But as Isadora had gotten there first, and then called him in to assist, the wily veteran decided that protecting his identity would be the best choice in this instance, just in case someone did show up while they were investigating. As such, he stood in full Stormshadow attire, lightning-patterned aviator jacket displayed proudly.

But such thoughts were behind him now. He was in work mode.

"Well, we are already here. Might as well investigate the crime scene for as many clues as possible. Because I can't think of many reasons that we wouldn't go back and save this lady. But if we prevent the death before we investigate the crime scene, we might never learn as much about the reasons or cause of her death. Besides, I wouldn't want to assume that it was a simple shooting, only to rewind the clock and discover that the gunshot was merely used to cover up a mustard gas attack. Then we'd be screwed for not doing our homework. No, I say we take a few minutes to poke around before we do anything else," Edgar said absentmindedly as he started to wander about the room, careful to not touch anything.

"So, you say you just met this woman just recently?" he went on, asking questions while he worked.

OOC Mechanics
08:24, Today: Stormshadow rolled 18,29 using d20+12,d20+14.  Investigation, Perception.

Isadora was not dressed like a hero. She was wearing a green dress that flowed to her knees. She wore heals, unworried about the effects that had on legs. She had a large hat that would have fit in with any of the downtown wealthy.

"There are plenty of reasons not to change events. There are also plenty of reasons to. Honestly, i may be attaching my view of the way I want things and, well, her views align with mine in some ways. But, her death may be what gets her word out. A pot of people weren't well thought of until they were dead." She had a cold detachment that could rub some the wrong way. In the end, though, a life wasn't important. Lives were. People not a person. She enjoyed individuals but that was enough. "We need to figure out what will be best. Perhaps exposure will be better, thinking about it. Regardless, yes. Investigate. I'll do so as well."

She sat on the floor near the body and her gem glowed as she looked back.

OOC: Using postcognition"

Stormshadow checks the place. The studio, a one-piece apartment, was overturned. The desk had its drawers broken; the books were dragged from the bookshelf; Corner tables, lamps and smaller utensils are scattered across the floor... The carpet’s tapped and the floor’s scratched. The victim scanned the area after entering. The weird part is she went into the apartment even after she saw the mess. Took the shot right in the chest – she would have seen the murderer. Why didn't she run?

The ' 22 shot one, two, three, bullets, lodged in the wall and in a column. She missed. By a longshot. After she fell, she seems to have tried to reach the phone.

Upon the body, Isadora sees the scene, emerging in a fantasmagorical way, before her eyes. The victim entered the apartment. She used her key. The killer knew what he was doing, braking inside with proper tools. Isadora can't see his face. Not yet, anyway... The woman comes in. She looks at the overturned room, scans her surroundings. A deep, masculine, distorted voice addresses her: "Relax. I just want the address. Give me the address and I'll leave you alone. "

She reaches inside her purse, picks up her gun. "Who's there?" – she says, looking around. The voice came from somewhere, but from where? There's no hiding. Now, it's from the left.

"Come on, sweetie. Just give me what I want! Don’t wanna harm ya. "– the voice comes from no one.

She shoots. Once. Twice. Empty shots. "Damn!" – the voice responds. A flash, coming from a few steps ahead, to the right. She’s hit, she shoots once more in response. She gets the wall, and nothing else.

She falls. Sound of steps moving towards the door. The door closes itself.

"Damn, damn! Look what you made me do! "
She tries to scream for help. She’s too weak. She reaches for her purse, takes out the card she now holds in hand, clenching the gun with the other one. She drags herself towards the phone table, invisible steps following closely. She passes out: dead. The steps continue, from one side to another, unclaimed by anyone. The voice grunts and moans, searching the place a little more. In vain. The studio just falls into silence, with doors and windows still closed...

Stormshadow looks at the dead woman, the stretched hand and the broken body. If she wanted the phone, why didn't she drop the gun? And it is then that he realizes: just below the phone table, the floor seems to have a very subtle division, like that to form a hatch... Maybe she wanted to reach the compartment, not the phone.
Suddenly, both Isadora and Stormshadow feel as if they were being watched… Closely watched.

"I'm not an expert on time, and how to interact with it, but from my point of view, if we have the ability to avert disaster, and choose not, we are no better than an onlooker who refuses to held the victim of a stabbing," Edgar said evenly, but there was a slight edge to his voice near the end.

Stormshadow had a very strong sense of justice. And though he did not speak of his experiences in war often, from the almost compulsive way he held his convictions, it was clear his desire wasn't entirely rational. But one couln't argue with his dedication, or the results that he generated.

The lithe vigilante wasn't sure what sort of information Isadora was picking up with her abilities, but from his own investigation, he could read much of what happened. Including the existence of the hidden hatch, and the sudden feeling of being watched. But after a moment, the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up for s different reason. A crackle of electricity arced down his arms and danced in his eyes for just a heartbeat.

"Ma'am, I've found a hidden hatch beneath the phone. And we might not be alone here, so I'd prepare for an unwelcome guest if I were you..." he said casually, grabbing the latch as he did so, and gathering electricity in the other hand.

"If I did that all I would be doing is attempting to stop crime after crime, rescue after rescue. It would be endless even just on this world much less the infinite others. Sometimes you just have to let fate take its course, especially when you can always do something. So, I take a larger look and would prefer to save the world so it isn't destroyed like mine was. Sometimes people need to be saved, sometimes they need to be allowed to stay dead." It was a simple calculus for her. Everything already hung heavy enough on her.

She watched the scene, not being able to see a face. As she came out she felt it too. Nodding, she closed her eyes again and started searching with her ability to see other places. Following sight lines, hoping that she could locate the culprit.

With Isadora sufficiently warned, Stormshadow opened the hatch, and mentally prepared himself for all manner of assassins and monsters. Such was the life that they both lead that those were the most probable encounters they were likely to have when searching for hidden observers.

C'est la vie...

"I'm looking for whomever is watching. Moving my senses in a pattern to check all the sight lines." She figured a heads up might be good. And a warning that her senses would be elsewhere.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:04, Wed 02 Oct 2019.

As Stormshadow opens the hatch, Isadora sees a slight, subtle distortion flowing behind the kitchen counter. The hatch clicks out, loosening itself and popping out, revealing the interior of a secret compartment, carved in solid wood. Within, a stack of letters and notes, tied around a black notepad, rests untouched.

The opening of the lead triggers the movement! The distortion leaps over the kitchen counter, plunging towards Stormshadow and ignoring Isadora! It seems that the camouflaged invader wants to tackle the investigator and reach out for the contents of the box!

[Ok, guys, roll initiative, please! You are NOT surprised by this, obviously!]

OOC: 16:51, Today: Stormshadow rolled 19 using 1d20+4.  Initiative.

OOC: Initiative 8 - Same modifier, very different roll.

14:43, Today: Rapture rolled 20 using 1d20.

[I NEVER fudge!]

The distorted spectre leaps forward, ready to tackle Stormshadow and grab the contents of the box!

[Counts as a disarm action, since he wants Stormshadow to drop the package - minus 2 for him]
14:45, Today: Rapture rolled 18 using 1d20+6 ((12)).

The creature attempts to shoulder Stormshadow down, beating the package out of his hands. With a quick swing of his arm, he strikes Stormshadow's hand, throwing the package a few feet to the left. Stormshadow manages to sidestep, still standing and ready for combat. A strange growl comes from the spectre, as if to threaten the investigators.


[Your moves!]
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:58, Mon 07 Oct 2019.

Stormshadow danced back from the unseen blow. Normally, it was his tactic to attack unseen, so being on the receiving end was a bit novel, he had to admit. Still, his body reacted before his brain had fully caught up to the situation. Not able to fully to assess his opponents position, Edgar opted for a wide haymaker that could cover as much area as possible, and close into a clinch at the first sign of contact. Crackling electricity coursed down his arms as he closed his hold on the invisible person.

"I'm gonna light you up one way or the other, pal!" the masked vigilante barked, unintentionally punning.

OOC Mechanics
DC 23 Damage Check Required
Target Grabbed
DC 19 vs Dazed, Stunned, and Incapacitated

Rolls:16:02, Today: Stormshadow rolled 28 using 1d20+16.  Attack Roll.
16:03, Today: Stormshadow rolled 35 using 1d20+16.  Grab Check.

Isadora blinked and refocused to where they were in the moment. Her gem reformed to a bright yellow gem. She concentrated for what was almost no moment and the space time continuum rippled around her. The full force of that pushed toward the assailant. This one bombarded him with the experience of far too many times distilled into a single moment. Something most minds were unable to cope with.

Ranged Cumulative Affliction 12, Dazed/Stunned/Incapacitated   Resisted by Will

[Rapture rolled 9 using 1d20+8]

Stormshadow moves quickly and gets the best of the attacker. His haymaker connects, bursting with energy and reaping a strange, low-key roar from the target.

[Rapture rolled 1 using 1d20]

The enemy shambles back as it gets struck by Isadora's wave. Falling down with a deep, rugged moan, the enemy fades into view.

What falls down is as nasty as can be: a tall, well-built male body, covered in green scales that slowly fade from transparency; the mug of an iguana and a weird, long tail. Black blood comes out of the thing's mouth. For clothes, only a black leather tabard and belt, from which a revolver sprouts.

[Any of you has well-informed? Naturalist skills can also be used]

OOC: I have well informed.

OOC: As do I.

(Ok, please give me the appropriate roll - either investigation or insight will do.)

09:04, Today: Isadora Nguyen rolled 38 using 1d20+20 ((18)).

OOC: 10:22, Today: Stormshadow rolled 16 using 1d20+14.  Insight.

Both recognize the thing. Not a native, that's for sure. These reptilian things live in underground complexes, amidst two or three other species of underworld dwellers, it is said. Strange thing to see one of them around here... Nouveau has no connection to the lower strata of the world - not that anyone knows - and these guys should have no interests to pursue in here. Still, there he is, leathervtabard and all. The bastards can hide in plain sight, as long as they're naked or wearing their fellow man's skin for clothing - as is the case here. Might have concealed the gun under the outfit as well.

Isadora looked at the creature. She had been to world where they were the dominate species and had nothing against them as a group. Now, individuals, that was a different story. And this one seemed to be murderer.

She spoke to the creature in it's own language. "I don't wish to hurt you more but I will. And you can be sure that you cannot truly harm me. So it may be better if you simply explain yourself. Why are you here? Why did you kill this woman and why did you attack us," She wasn't being intimidating simply stating a fact. And she hadn't moved, not even a little, in spite of them being attacked.

"You... You can talk to me?" - his speech's guttural, ferocious. "Not many of you softskins can speak to us. Who... Who taught you?" - he's dizzy. The double strike didn't do him good.
"Whoever it was... Should be put to death... Our language's sacred... Not to... your kind." - he resents Isadora's use of his mother tongue. These guys are purists: older race, strutting around as if they own the planet. They look down on humans. Well, they look down on everyone, really.

"I owe you no explanations, softskin. You're not prepared to understand why I'm here. I'd have avoided her death if I could. And that's more than you should know already." - even in his weakness, broken teeth and bleeding nostrils, he's still full'a poise. Nice. Stupid, but nice.

Slowly, Isadora stood and gave a small gesture to Stormshadow that suggested that she had this for the moment. "Oh, calm yourself. I speak nearly every language in existence. I know your kind, there are worlds where you are the only sapient species. They are much nicer than you have been, though. Interesting music, great balls. The decor. The clothing. The food. Magnifique. But, I digress, different time, different place." It was just a simple fact, she respected their culture, at least what they could become. And, who knew, maybe that was what could save this world.

Nothing she would say was untrue save one thing, her age. She was hundreds of years old but not ancient yet. Though, she had seen too many things that she could not unsee and her mind held them all. "And, you do. I am not like the others. Listen to the ease of my words, the lack of concern. Your people are ancient, but so am I. I have seen the birth of worlds and their deaths. The rise of your species and mine and others. Do not mistake appearance for nature. I appear to be a young human woman, I am something else. However, perhaps we can make a deal. You talk to me, tell me your goals. I shall see if they align with the goals I have for this world and then we can, perhaps, save this woman and you. I do abhor death when it isn't necessary. But first," she reached to him, "Stormshadow, can you bind his hands. I think that's prudent before I heal his wounds. I do believe we can all have a civilized conversation now. Or I can send him to a world where his kind never existed at all. Or worse, one where there is no crème brûlée." She shuddered and then laughed, just a little, trying to add a bit of levity.

Edgar had no idea what they hell either of them were saying. He himself only spoke two languages: English, and bad English. Still, from her look, he inferred that things were progressing on her end, which was good. If not for her language abilities, he probably would have been completely in the dark. Just another reason their partnership seemed like a swell idea so far.

"Of course. I don't normally carry cuffs on me. Most of the time when I put mooks down, they stay down for a few hours, so it's never really been an issue. Still, I'm sure I can finding something in this apartment..." he mused mildly.

He went about the place looking for something that he could use to bind the creature. Something that would either substitute for rope, or ideally rope itself.

OOC Mechanics
09:52, Today: Stormshadow rolled 32,30 using d20+12,d20+14.  Investigation, Perception.

Scavenging the apartment gives Stormshadow an unsettling picture of the woman's life. Her med cabinet looks like a damn bio lab; her kitchen has way more sharp knives than necessary; behind a sock drawer he finds two thick rolls of money and half a dozen passports; two other compartments hide small handguns and a good deal of ammo; the pantry's stocked for the end or the world; finally, he finds a set of useful accessories in an armoire: four sets of cuffs, iron chains, a flask of chloroform and leather masks for gagging...

He also discovers three recording devices sprung around the apartment, quite active and... transmitting sound and image alike. To where is anyone's guess.

The prisoner rolls his eyes and starts talking in a struggling English as he realizes Storm's intentions: "Is that really necessary?" - his voice's dragged, broken by the thick accent and the throaty interferences.

And then, addressing Isadora's questions.

"Perhaps we do have a common cause. We are protecting ourselves. Guerrilla's... The woman's death was a fatality, one I would rather have avoided. But I could not let her leave, and I could not afford her calling for reinforcements. Alone, she was weak; with others, she might be difficult to stop. And I have little time." - he pauses for a second, as if considering his next few words. Instead of talking any further, he points out to the notes with his chin.

"There is a name there. Misty Quaid. And an address. I need to find her. No matter the cost."
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:03, Sun 13 Oct 2019.

"I usually have cuffs but didn't bring my purse. You never know when you might need them for work or recreation." She grinned and winked. There seemed to be a complete lack of gravitas in her actions. She had learned to be detached.

"I do not know. Do you plan on attacking us again? Instead of just knocking you out I'd have to take more drastic measures." She touched him and time started to rewind on his body. Wounds and conditions vanished, pulling back like they were never there. Then the gem changed once again to that blue.

"I will check that address now. Give me a moment. Then you can tell me about your existential crisis." She threw her senses to that location, looking through space at a different place took her senses from her current location, though, so she trusted Stormshadow to keep her safe.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:49, Sun 13 Oct 2019.

"Certainly another disgusting human habit. I don't care for details." - he stands as his bruises are healed, ensuring he will seek no further aggressions.



"We have no such things. My considerations were mererly a concession to your own feeble moralities and your sense of fraternity to the dead one." - he seems to harden his own speech and reacquire some undeserved poise.

Isadora barely listens to him as her senses are projected. The address, she realizes, reaches out to a penthouse. Outside, a large swimming pool's lit, and a black woman, well-built and strong in gestures, sits at a table. Dressed in a bathing suit and covered by a loose robe, she glances at newspapers, magazines and scores of pictures, as well as a few smaller objects - cigar cutters, ribbons, things of personal use, mostly. She courses her fingers upon them, seeping a red martini on occasion. She turns her head slightly as another black woman enters. This one's stronger, dressed in black and ready for action. Isadora senses the presence of an entire entourage - seven people, plus these two - all guarding the penthouse.

[What do you guys do? Does Isadora continue peeking?]

"So many human habits are. Most of them I indulge in merely for fun. None serve any purpose for me. We must take our joy however we can get it." She lacked human morality in a sense. "It would be sorority, we are both women. And, no. My concern with this matter is rather her life or her death will be of a benefit to the timeline as a whole."

She looked across the city and saw a woman. Pretty, wealthy, powerful. Curious. For the moment she stayed, listening to the group as they came. Maybe this would begin to come together. Maybe not. Regardless, her curiosity was raised. "So, that address, it's a woman and a security contingent and an entourage. Stormshadow, I'm listening in some more to get some intelligence about this person."

The reptilian's surprised by Isadora's reaction. "Well, I guess at least one of you should think rationally. You reproduce like insects, after all."

He then turns to Stormshadow.

"You have seen this place. The woman has uncovered sensitive information about Quaid. I do not recommend staying here for long: she has friends. Her alternate identity has ensured so." - both Storm and Isadora recognize the term "Guerrilla". It belongs to an independent media reporter - or group of reporters - that denounce corruption around City Nouveau. If the creature's speaking the truth, it's a group, no doubt.

"Misty Quaid's the only lead we have to find another, a Douglas Quaid. LOng ago, he joourneyed to our homeland - an admirable feat for a feeble human. After remaining with us, he spoke of disaster, extinction. We did not believe him... Until recently. This is why I  must find him, and Misty should know his whereabouts."

Isadora's senses give even more away. On the penthouse, the strong woman pressures Misty.

"Where is he, girl? Where is Douglas?"

"It doesn't happen like this, Martha. Doug's the only one that can shut is off. You know it. Besides, I'm more concerned with Jim and Stan... Stan vanished a while ago... He's just waking up, major headache. Sunken Chinatown, he says. F. Lee and a strange doll are with him..."

"Luminous Path, you reckon? What does Shangguan wants with you guys?"

"Ain't it obvious, Martha?" - Misty seems irritated. "Little Q's sending me all these desperate messages, now! You said it was ok, but he's being taken!"

"Little Q has friends..."

"You know, it would be a lot easier if..."

"No one can know she's here... The city crew will have to do, Misty! She's supposed to be at.."

Suddenly, the windows break inside, as if stones had been thrown through the glass. Storm counts four of them at the same time. The things start hissing, and gass pours profusely, filling up the room.

[Ok, I'm gonna need that perception roll, as usual, to see if you guys are surprised or not! that's DC 10 for Storm and 12 for Isadora - after all, she's paying attention to something else! Afterwards, initiative! Let's heat things up a bit! This also counts as a complication - plus one hero point each!]

Isadora blinked, her senses returning to her as smoke filled the room. She wasn't affected by poisons or a lack of air, though she didn't care for tear gas and it made it difficult to see. "Fight them or leave. If we leave where to? Outside the mysterious penthouse or a less populated place."

12:05, Today: Isadora Nguyen rolled 33 using 1d20+16 ((17)).

[Ok, I assume that roll's for a portal and the question's directed towards Stormshadow! Thanks for the patience, guys. I've been assigned to a dissertation contest and I gotta evaluate some entries. Plus, personal stuff, as I mentioned in the OOC.]

The scaled adversary grows concerned with the movement.

"The woman has allies. They will not be content with our presence here. I recommend taking the notes with us, though. In case they may find them"

The portal opens with ease, creating a time-space rift through which you can pass.

[Ok, where to? Decide quickly, though! A moment's hesitation might bring you down! Both of you, please, roll fortitute against DC 15! The gas mix might have distinct effects on each of you!]

OOC: It was actually for the perception. I don't think there's a roll for teleportation. Fort check failed by 4.

Well, she needed more information before she was going to fight a bunch of people she had no real connection with...yet. And it would be better to watch what they do here once they're gone.

The portal lead to a studio apartment just outside the city, more like the suburbs but a cheap place. She rented a handful of those studios on different worlds, ones that were closer to this one. Other worlds she had different places. It was a good out if she needed a place to hide out. For now, though, this world, this time, just elsewhere. "Let's go, grab the stuff."

[Sorry, since a few days had transpired, I didn't connect one thing to the other! Done, though! I'll describe the results down below!]

Isadora manages to count down the involved. Five grenades entered through the windows. Beyond the fog, she pinpoints the presence of at least seven people - five that threw the grenades, plus two, ready to invade. They're across the street, these seven. Two more are climbing down from this very building, probably to kick the windows in.

On the other side of the portal, Isadora sees her own safe house, ready to receive the travelers. A second more and the place would be invaded, and as the group fades away, the suspicions are confirmed: glass's broken inside, letting two, plus two, masked fighters inside the place.

[Ok, you manage to escape with ease! Just give me the sign as to what's next! @Stormshadow, you there, my man!?]

With a deep breath, the portal closed. Isadora checked herself and pulled a chunk of glass from her side. Her body quickly stitching itself back together, though her dress was now blood stained and cut. The gem turned yellow again and she waved her hand again and time wound backwards for the dress, it reformed as well, good as new. "Okay, so I think we're fine for now. And I think you need to be a bit more open about what's actually going on here." As she spoke she poured a brandy and offered some to the others.

Stormshadow waves the drink away politely. The reptilian doesn't.

"To put simply, human, Misty Quaid is the key to protecting the future of my people. She is the only link we have to her sibling, one that once upon a time visited us. He took one of our most sacred artifacts with him - the Eye of Kanyph. Without it, we are endangered. Vulnerable, one could say." - the reptilian says in an inflexible tone.

As the reptilian speaks, Stormshadow leans against a wall, observing the scene and glancing outside on occasion - he's probably trying to gather his senses, locate himself.

"Others might want the artifact to remain lost to us. We have enemies, envious of our power and ascendance. I suspect they seek the eye as well"

This seems somehow familiar. There's something about this conflict, about this artifact...

[Ok, you can roll for well-informed as usual, DC 15, to know a bit more of his culture.]

Isadora tried to put some things together but the smoke, she guessed, was messing with her mind and she could only remember things about the reptilians of other worlds.

"My name is Isadora. Use it or I'll start calling you child. And, I have to say, if you are vulnerable without a single item how are people worried about your ascendancy. That said, I would be willing to have a sit down with your leadership. See if this is something that I want to look into. If so, I have several acquaintances who all have special skills. Or, maybe we can just stop this item from ever being stolen in the first place. It all depends. Too many factors to consider, honestly. At least until I have more details and can look backward and forward to see what was and may come."