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 Freak +1 / Danger 0 / Trouble +2 / Superior 0 / Menace 0 Curses! 0/5 Conditions: Location: Warehouse District I'm still getting used to this 'team' thing. I know that right now we should be planning our next move and getting to know each other and, I don't know, spilling our darkest secrets over overpriced drinks with olives in them but the thought of it makes me uncomfortable in a way I can't put my finger on. It was fine back at the camp, once everyone had realized the only thing at stake was our dignity, but now I've got to play all these impossible games, pushing my agenda and working with the team at the same time, letting my guard down and keeping it up at the same time, being Leila and Dark Eagle at the same time... maybe that's why the Astroplasm Cafe fills me with dread. So I ran, like I always do. After the meeting, Betty gave me directions to a cache of explosives, the sort a decently-sized crow might be able to carry. (Though I'll have to train them to pull the pin.) 'A gift from one lover of pyrotechnics to another', she said. I knew letting the mansion burn was the right call. So I make my way to the Warehouse District, down by the docks, a sprawling wasteland of loading bays and shipping containers and barely a soul in sight. A good place for gang shootouts and superhero showdowns, meaning the streets of La Reina proper are that bit safer, in theory. Of course, nobody talks about the social cost of letting all these drug deals go down undisturbed (unless some super feels like testing out his gear) or the implications of letting a generation of heroes think collateral damage is accetable... but that's a rant for another time. The upshot of all this is that I'm not surprised to see the obvious plainclothes detectives standing around by the containers as I approach my destination. Two bored-looking white men, cheap suits (one brown, one blue), no ties. Probably waiting for someone in a cape, but it's still daylight - hopefully I'll be out of here before anything interesting happens. I'm not in costume, my hood's up, my backpack's suspicious but not threatening... I pass them by and round the corner, pushing uninterested all the while. Just another lowlife. Not worth the time. It takes a while to find the right container, and even longer to get the cargo ready for transport, and by the time I've finished with the ropes and carabiners the sun's set. I keep a few grenades in my backpack, then send my special delivery on its way, enjoying the sight. Sure, a crate suspended from the claws of a flock of seagulls isn't something you see every day, but you'll see weirder than that every week if you live in La Reina. With that done, I steel myself to head over to join the others. The shipping container gives me a convenient place to change into my costume, minus the cape and helmet. Which means I probably look like I stepped out of an interpretative dance group, but apparently that's the price of entry. I'm just looking up directions to Astroplasm when I hear Sundown's warning - danger approaching. I leap up to the top of the container and lie flat, watching as the two detectives I saw earlier make their way down the row, glancing at each set of doors as they pass. The bright spotlights seem to obscure rather than reveal their details, so I can't get a read on them. Brown Suit needs a shave. Blue Suit's playing with an unlit cigarette. They both look completely unremarkable, and I'm just wondering what put Sundown on edge when Brown Suit stops at a container and clicks his fingers. A second later, the doors explode into a shower of sparks. He peers into the container, and, apparently satisfied, snaps his fingers again - and the door reappears, pristine. Oh crap. I need to get out of here, but as it is I'll be completely exposed the minute I stand up, and I don't want to send Sundown in until I know what I'm dealing with. So I wait, paralyzed, as they approach my container. Right below me, I see Blue Suit crouch, sweeping his hand over the floor. He's looking at the scuff marks, I realize, from where I dragged the crate out. Brown Suit's turning the padlock over in his hand, looking at the oil on his fingers - the oil I had to apply to get the rusty lock to open. I see them look at each other, and I put it all together just as they do... they're looking for something in this lot. They don't know where it is. But someone's been here already, removed something heavy and made it vanish into thin air. The only person who's been through this way is that kid in the hood. And if they haven't come out again... I don't let them reach the end of that thought. I reach into my backpack for a stun grenade, push surprise all the way to 11 and drop it over the edge. Then I take off across the tops of the containers at a run, praying that my new teammates will be able to handle anything that manages to follow me back... Abscond: 2d6+2 12 I don't have any Conditions, and I don't think it'd make sense to add Plan, so I guess I'll abscond with something to be revealed later. Get me back to the meeting, Mr Wizard! quote:
Gato fucked around with this message at 20:45 on Dec 29, 2016 |
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Dec 28, 2016 13:32
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Freak +1 / Danger 0 / Trouble +2 / Superior 0 / Menace 0 Curses! 0/5 Conditions: Location: Warehouse District And breathe. Not a bad run all told. I don't even know if the detectives (if that's really what they were) even tried to chase me but I wasn't going to risk getting caught. I don't know much about magic, but I'm pretty sure re-creating something after you've destroyed it is a lot harder than just destroying it. And I really didn't want my first capital-V Villainous act to involve getting unmasked for the sake of a few grenades. I'm just wiping the sweat off my hands when - "Psst. Hey, you. Going somewhere?" "Uh, kinda." Dammit, guess I'm not out of the woods yet. I don't know how far her teleportation goes, but I'm not going to bet on outrunning her. She doesn't seem malicious, so maybe I can just... play it cool? That's never been a particular skill of mine, but it might be the safest option for now. And I might be able to work out a bit more about what this thing in my backpack is. "I guess I could stop and talk if you want. Could I just send a text though?" Before she can say anything, I grab my phone and send a quick text to Mobius. quote:Jonathan it's DE. In some trouble can you port me to wherever you guys are? Alright. What do you want? I see the girl leap into the air, and I'm already dodging backwards, fists up, ready to defend myself. But the blow never lands, and the girl disappears from sight as the walls of the alley fold inwards like origami. I raise my hand instinctively and watch half in fascination, half in horror as my fingers multiply - five, ten, fifteen... I hear the girl's voice becoming a choir of voices at different pitches and different directions, and I start to feel an unearable pressure behind my eyes and - The air is suddenly thicker, there's music pounding, and there's seven tense teenage villains sipping cocktails around a table. "Hey everyone. Sorry for being late, I had some business to take care of." Ok, that sounds really pedestrian. "Thanks for the ride, Jonathan. So, does anyone want to bring me up to speed?" Gato fucked around with this message at 02:25 on Dec 30, 2016 |
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Dec 28, 2016 23:10
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Freak +1 / Danger 0 / Trouble +2 / Superior 0 / Menace 0 Curses! 0/5 Conditions: Location: Astroplasm Cafe I'm more than a little surprised to see Paola - sorry, Zapper - playing peacemaker. Surprised, and tentatively impressed. I'm sure you wouldn't need my abilities to work out the tone of the conversation before I showed up. I'm almost relieved when Jonathan starts droning on about dimensional magic - it gives me space in my head to sort through Paola's explanation. She lays it out briskly, effectively and, seemingly, neutrally, which makes me wonder what her angle is. Does she think her preferred approach is transparently the best? Or does she genuinely want me to make an informed decision? My reflections are cut short by Jonathan falling for Strain's obvious provocation. Idiot. At least the brief silence gives me the chance to speak. "So, tell me if I'm right." I say it to Paola, but loud enough for the others to hear. "Melody wants to steal a castle, because it's a nice pad with a swimming pool and definitely not to get back at Mom. She wants to steal this castle from the Mystic Force, who might all be there when we show up. She wants Jonathan to move the castle because we're assuming that'll get them off our backs. "Mobius wants to rescue some genocidal robot from an incredibly powerful sorceress so that he can get on with destroying all organic life. If we do this, he'll hopefully forget that we're organic life as well, and give us an airship. And Zapper and Copycat want to do both. Did I miss anything?" Saying it out loud makes me realize the obvious - I hate both these plans. It'd be easy enough to abstain. But depending on what Strain wants, I've potentially got a deciding vote. And I'm going to have to be part of the plan regardless, so I've got a responsibility to make sure we do the least worst thing. So with that in mind, I turn to the group and speak up... "You can probably tell I'm not a fan of either of these options. But only one of them involves releasing the leader of an interdimensional invasion force. If we do that, we're risking thousands of innocent lives. So, much as I hate saying it... if I have to vote, it's going to have to be for Melody." Because halfway through Paola's explanation I realized with a shock that I'd heard of the Silver Myrmidon before. One drunken evening, back in MurderDome, some rear end in a top hat was laughing about the rubes who buy houses in the path of the Clockwork Legion. They always come back the along the same route, so why would you live there? Because, like I said back then, those houses are cheap. They have to be, because discerning buyers won't touch them. But when your choices are between a roof over your head and no shelter at all... of course you'll buy the house on the floodplain or under the hill with the landslides every year. Long-term planning is a luxury when you're living paycheck to paycheck. The Myrmidon getting caught was a blessing for God knows how many people, and I'm not going to let some would-be villain ruin their lives for the sake of his ego. [If TDN agrees, I'll take 1 integrity for standing up on this issue.] Gato fucked around with this message at 02:10 on Dec 29, 2016 |
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Dec 29, 2016 01:53
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Freak +1 / Danger 0 / Trouble +2 / Superior 0 / Menace 0 Curses! 0/5 Conditions: Location: Astroplasm Cafe drat. Things are heading in the wrong direction. I was hoping this gridlock would hold so I could work on Copycat or Centipede but I wasn't expecting Jonathan to cave like that. I need to fight for this, and I'm not expecting Rose or Blackguard to convince anyone of anything. Which means it's down to me to swing this. Fortunately, I've got more than a few buttons I can push. "Jonathan." I look straight into his eyes, and I don't like what I see there. He can almost be fun when he's worked up and indignant, but now I can only see desperation, a desperate need to keep control of events slipping through his fingers. "I never thought I'd see the day you'd hand over your plan just like that. You realize you've got things the wrong way round? If it fails, it'll be on you. Everyone will talk about how foolhardy it was to try to make the Clockwork Legion your pawns. Just the sort of thing a novice would try." I push pride gently, not that it needs much. "But if it succeeds, it'll be Zapper's glory, and Copycat's. You might be a footnote if you're lucky." Now the tricky part. I do my best to find respect and understanding and (might as well) crush in that bloated head and draw them out. "But if you help us take this castle, everyone will know it'll only have been possible thanks to you. And you'll have an entire ley-line network to play with. Isn't that worth swallowing your pride for?" And now the killer blow. "Plus, I think you owe it to Rose after that slur. Honestly, I thought you were better than that, Jonathan." I knew he had a temper, but that was low. Even my crash course on Fae society taught me to steer clear of the E-word. And I can sense Melody behind me, ready to explode... Provoke Mobius: 2d6+1 8 +1 from Influence. DE is provoking him to switch his vote. If he doesn't do it, he marks a condition.
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Dec 29, 2016 22:35
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Freak +1 / Danger 0 / Trouble +2 / Superior 0 / Menace 0 Integrity 1 Curses! 0/5 Conditions: Location: Astroplasm Cafe I can't argue with Jonathan's demolition of my attempt to get his vote. His assessment of the flaws in Rose's plan was pretty accurate. I don't know whether I really believe he didn't know about the E-word - you'd think a mighty and knowledgeable sorcerer would be at least a little familiar with the Fae - but he does at least attempt to apologize. We'll have to see if Copycat judges that sincere enough to win her vote. But of course, all this will have to wait. Trust the Masters of Disaster to show up at the worst possible moment. As soon as the fox thing Reynardine opens his mouth I realize - I hate them. A fortune in unobtainium, and what did they do with it? Bought their own drat island, the better to lord it over the rest of us. As drunk off their own success as any banker or corporate lawyer, even with only a fraction of the power. Secure in the knowledge that the deck is stacked so firmly in their favour they can show off their hands to the little people and not risk a thing. For a brief moment I enjoy the thought of weaving my way through them with fists raised and Sundown at my side, but only for a moment - I know how that would end. Instead, I sit back and watch as they surround us, radiating confidence. And I watch as my colleagues fan out to meet them, each to each. I don't have any particular connection to any of the Masters, thanks to my relative isolation back in MurderDome, but it feels odd to be on the sidelines while they do the work. Because, as strange as it seems, something about this situation feels like teamwork. So. First, I need a target. There's some interesting emotions at play beneath all the ego, but which thread should I try to pull? Envy could be for a multitude of reasons, and it's hard to tell superficial jeaIousy from it's soul-destroying Shakespearean variant. As for pain, well, maybe he bit his tongue. It can't be easy having fangs. No, it's Lady Circe who draws my attention. Fear is unambiguous. And it's fascinating - what would a demigoddess have to fear from us? And which one of us? I ready what I think of as my business voice - a steady, measured alto, enunciated like I'm holding back a snarl. It's the voice I use for training my birds, and for explaining things very carefully to my enemies, designed to hit respect and fear at the same time. I approach Circe with a smile. There's not a trace of fear on her face, of course - but I know it's in there somewhere. "I'm sorry, is everything alright? You don't seem to be enjoying yourself. I hope it's not something one of us has done... I'm sure we could set it right for you." It's a tricky balancing act, this time - she has to appreciate that I'm not sincere, respond to the undertones of intimidation... and still feel the desperate need to unburden. I'm going to have to move her fear in just the right way... Pierce the Mask (Circe): 2d6 6 e: added question, since I'm expecting help Gato fucked around with this message at 00:33 on Dec 31, 2016 |
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Dec 30, 2016 23:18
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Freak +1 / Danger 0 / Trouble +2 / Superior 0 / Menace 0 Integrity 1 Curses! 0/5 Conditions: Location: Astroplasm Cafe -> Subspace Lair In the club: Whatever brief rapport I might have established with Circe disappears as Poppetmaster goes for Melody, and I'm tensing myself for a fight before Star Spectress de-escalates everything. She's probably the only reason this club's still standing - I know I couldn't do her job, moderating an endless stream of drunken, self-obsessed superpowered teenagers. That thought brings me back to Lady Circe. I'm not surprised she was embarrassed by her team-mates - I'm definitely no stranger to that feeling. But why would she be afraid? I observe absent-mindedly as Melody and Blackguard have a heart-to-heart and Centipede babbles the meeting to a close, turning Circe's words over in my head, until I think I've worked it out. She was afraid because no matter how irritating she might find their antics, she needs the Masters of Disaster if she's ever going to get whatever place in the Pantheon she's after. But while villainy might be an alien concept to the Pantheon, good manners aren't... and every bar fight she ends up getting dragged into puts her that little bit further from Olympus, no matter how metamorphically appropriate her curses might be. That's a reasonable explanation, I guess. But I'd expect her to have been angry as well, and she wasn't... more listless than anything else. I keep thinking it through as we disappear from the club one by one into Jonathan's interdimensional lair. I make sure to pay my tab at the bar before I head out. Petty cash or not, I'm not going to be in anyone's debt. It's not until much later that I realize what was going on with Circe - not until our next meeting, in fact. She wasn't just afraid that her team-mates would embarrass her, she was afraid that she couldn't bring herself to care... and that when the moment came, she found she was just as eager to throw down as anybody else... -- Later, somewhere between dimensions... So, it's come to this. 8 of us sitting around a table, hashing out a plan nearly half of us don't want to do. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't considered sitting this one out. I even briefly thought about bailing completely. But the plan only relies on us getting the Myrmidon out for long enough for him to help us take the Bastion. I'm sure some heroes will be around to re-apprehend him before long. And I'm sure there'll be plenty of opportunities for a well-placed actor to make sure that happens sooner rather than later. No, I have to be on this operation. Somebody's got to make sure this jailbreak doesn't go too smoothly... I listen with interest while Zapper explains the first part of the plan. Despite my feelings about the job, I'm almost glad she's in charge - it's good to remind the others that you don't need sorcery or nanotechnology to contribute. And Centipede's going to get us a man on the inside, so to speak. Perfect. Now it's my turn to speak up. Panel: The subcave. Dark Eagle sitting forward, explaining while the rest of the D4C listens in, sat in a circle around her. Speech: "So. The Mystic Force want to put the Silver Myrmidon in the Shoebox. If he gets there it'd take a lot more than the 8 of us to break him out." Big panel: A non-descript building the approximate size and shape of an aircraft hangar. Guards in grey camouflage with rifles patrol outside. Top caption: "But right now, he's in a holding center on the outskirts of town. Heavily guarded, of course..." Bottom caption: "...and with state-of-the-art technological and magical defenses." Panel: Close-up of Dark Eagle's grinning face. Speech: "But all of those are only as good as the people manning them." Panel: A fresh-faced guard in a booth, leaning back in a flimsy chair and smoking. Caption: "And while I'm sure the CRISIS Platoon have been well trained... Panel: The guard's face is suddenly in shadow, and he's looking up in shock. Caption:"...I'm confident there's one thing they haven't been trained for..." Big panel: Wide-angle shot of the yard. The blue sky is filled with countless avian silhouettes. Guards in the foreground are pointing, gawping, and pointing guns at the sky. Caption: "Birds." Panel: Dark Eagle in mask and costume crouched behind a corner, picking a card off a (probably) unconscious guard's body. Caption: "And if that doesn't sound like a big enough distraction..." Panel: An explosion; a panicking guard's face in the foreground, lit in yellow and orange. Caption: "I can always add in some explosives." Panel: Close-up of 'Private Ford' talking into his radio. Caption: "And thanks to Centipede, they're going to be receiving some very unreliable intel." Panel: The subcave. Mobius is reclining in his chair, looking dismissive. Speech: "Pah. All of this... rigmarole when I could just teleport us in." Panel: Dark Eagle leaning forward, smiling calmly. Speech: "You could. I'm sure you could even get us past those defenses. But why play your strongest card as your opening move?" Panel: Bird's-eye. Dark Eagle leaning back, hands behind her head, eyes closed, looking satisfied. Speech: "We want them to underestimate us until the last possible moment." Cook Up Scheme (Trouble): 2d6+2 9 Exhausting my Bird-Portable Explosives. +1 Plan for the pool. Gato fucked around with this message at 21:21 on Dec 31, 2016 |
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Dec 31, 2016 21:19
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Freak +1 / Danger 0 / Trouble +2 / Superior 0 / Menace 0 Integrity 1 Curses! 0/5 Conditions: Location: Mobius Crib / Brass Juggernaut Everyone's been riding high the last few days, except me. Grins and grudging acknowledgment all around as we watched Mobius wrangle the Brass Juggernaut out of the Silver Myrmidon, but all I could think about was an armada of Juggernauts raining destruction over the Western Seaboard while novice superheroes try ineffectually to stop them. (After all, he's hardly a real threat to the world, so why not let the Little Leaguers have a shot?) I know Centipede thinks I was trying to sabotage the jailbreak operation, it's written all over him whenever he looks at me, but I only wish I had been that brave. No, I was just following orders, like a good little minion - they asked for a distraction, so I gave them one. What did they think my birds would be doing, writing YOU SUCK in the sky? While the others wrap up the bits and pieces, scouting out the Bastion and moving the ship into position, I spend some time with the Egg I retrieved from Betty's stash. I don't know how I could have mistaken it for anything except an egg, which only makes me more curious about how it ended up in that container. Did Betty know about it? I decide to hold off on asking her for now - partly in case she was setting me up, partly because I think she'd expect me to do some research of my own. But what little I do only leaves me more confused. P'an Ku is or was a primordial deity in Chinese mythology, and he supposedly hatched from a cosmic egg, but I've got no idea about the reality status (for lack of a better term) of Chinese gods. Unsurprisingly, the People's Beast and Legend Authority keeps that information classified. Besides, the egg is pretty clearly modern technology - it's a dull, minimally reflective silver egg, covered with fine ridges in geometric patterns, warm to the touch and hums very quietly. Definitely not the sort of thing a god would hatch from. Once this job's over, perhaps I'll ask STRAIN about it, but for now, it's my secret, stashed in one of my costume's artfully concealed pockets along with the Key to the City. As for the people who were after it, I'm doing a little better. I can't find anything on the two detectives, if that's even what they were - there are definitely advantages to being nondescript. On the other hand, I think I've identified the teleporting girl - there's someone matching her description on YUMADD's minimally classified database, listed as Imp, a trainee member of the Mystic Force. Of course, we're not privy to any further information than that - that would be too easy. When I found out she was part of the exact group of people we're going to be up against all too soon, part of me wanted to throw the egg out of the interdimensional window and never think about it again. But at that moment, as if it could read my mind, the Egg shook. It's been doing that more and more since then - even a layman could tell it's going to hatch soon. And at that moment, I decided I was going to keep it. Because animals hatch from eggs, and the thought of any animal ending up in some CRISIS research facility makes me want to scream. -- Wide panel: STRAIN is center frame, her back turned, looking out over the bridge of the Brass Juggernaut. Dark Eagle is approaching from the left foreground, identifiable by her silhouette. Caption: "The others were surprised when I asked to be aboard the Juggernaut for the assault on the Nexus. I admit, it's not my usual role." Panel: Closeup of Dark Eagle's armoured gauntlet, with a brass sparrow perched on a finger. Caption: "Fortunately, the Legion provided me with an excuse." Panel: Dark Eagle seated on the floor, cross-legged, with a handful of starlings and a goose gathered around her. The same brass drone can be seen on her outstretched hand. Caption: "While I obviously can't control the Legion's drones, their flocking behaviour should integrate seamlessly with my own birds." Panel: Dark Eagle walking down a corridor aboard the juggernaut, towards the viewer, hemmed in by brass pipes, gears, and seams of STRAIN's nanites. Caption: "Of course, I could never share my real reason." Panel: Dark Eagle crouched in front of an old-fashioned display resembling a radar, albeit covered in unnecessary clockwork. Caption: "I found a number of interesting things aboard the Juggernaut. Such as navigational data for their entire fleet." Panel: Close up of Dark Eagle's mouth, smiling. Caption: "The sort of information that could save a lot of lives." Panel: STRAIN stands center stage on the bridge, giving orders; Dark Eagle stands to her side a step behind. Caption: "That'll have to wait for now, though." Panel: The view from the bridge's panoramic windows: the Nexus Bastion, looming close. Caption: "We've got a castle to conquer." Big panel: The Brass Juggernaut looms large in the sky, as seen from the ramparts of the Nexus Bastion. Countless miniature drones fill the sky, along with a few flesh-and-blood birds. Dark Eagle's silhouette is unmistakeable, standing tall on the prow of the Juggernaut. Caption: "And I'm going to be leading the charge." Execute the Plan!: 2d6+3 10 Burning 3 Plan, leaving us with 3. Dark Eagle gets 1 Infamy.
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Jan 2, 2017 23:23
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Freak +1 / Danger 0 / Trouble +2 / Superior 0 / Menace 0 Integrity 1 Curses! 0/5 Conditions: Location: Nexus Bastion FLASHBACK: We see two girls, aged perhaps 14 or 15, sitting in the dark on a threadbare sofa, lit by the glow of a TV. The girl on the right is a petite African-American with thick glasses; the girl on the left is tall and lanky, with Middle Eastern features and unruly hair. GIRL ON RIGHT: Seriously, I don't get it. What do they think they're going to achieve? GIRL ON LEFT: Come on, Maya, they're sending a message. What's not to get? The TV screen shows the instantly recognizable Marvels' Memorial in New Metro City. Graffiti reading COPS NOT CAPES is clearly visible on the memorial. We catch the tail end of the news anchor's report: "...act of protest at the recent, controversial decision to reduce the municipal police budget due to recent superhero..." MAYA: All they're going to do is piss off the people who they need on their side. GIRL ON LEFT: Because those people were really going to listen to them - MAYA: They're not going to listen now! GIRL ON LEFT: The system doesn't change, Maya, it doesn't give you anything if you don't fight - MAYA: It's going to change. We're going to change it... if I can even get in, that is..." GIRL ON LEFT: Of course you'll get in. You're the smartest person I know, Maya. It's just... MAYA: What? GIRL ON LEFT: It's just, maybe there's a reason things don't change. Maybe everyone goes into the machine just like you, and they come out like - MAYA: Like what, Leila? Look, you can sit around and complain all day, but it's not like you've got a better idea. LEILA: ...yeah. Not yet... The scene fades on the image of the TV screen, where workers are starting to clean the graffiti off the monument. LEILA: ...but I'll think of something. -- Standing on the battlements of the Nexus Bastion, I pause to catch my breath. The plan is working exactly as intended - the arrival of the Juggernaut drew the castle's defenders onto the roof while the rest of the team teleported inside. Said defenders consisted of all of a bunch of gargoyles and one butler with a magic gatling gun, which was probably the best possible outcome - we'll be several dimensions away before the rest of the Mystic Force catches up. The butler is out cold on the roof behind me, Sundown preening herself on his unconscious chest. I know we don't have too much time before Jonathan whisks us away, so I take the opportunity to enjoy the view. It's quite a panorama, the green hills falling away towards the azure sea. And of course, there's Esmeralda, home of the rich and beautiful, spread over the hills like a rash, the swimming pools clearly visible even from the castle. I feel an old anger rising in me as I gaze over the gaudy mansions. This is the future we're taught to aspire to - each family of five consuming enough water for a city block, policemen and doctors at our beck and call, spared the sight of the beggar on the corner by our 10-foot walls. If I take out this loan, if I suck up to my boss enough, maybe I'll end up in one of those Esmeralda houses one day. Maybe I'll be a superhero's secretary, and maybe one day she'll marry me and we we can have a pool in our backyard. And if I have to close some run-down kids' home to do it, well, that's the way the world turns. As my thoughts spiral faster I don't even have to command the birds still circling over the castle - they wheel towards the town in unison, clockwork birds flying wing-to-wing with their flesh-and-blood cousins. I drive the flock - no, the swarm - through the town, planting image after image into those tiny minds - satellite dishes, solar panels, fences, tiled roofs, windshields, power lines, traffic lights. I drive one arm of the swarm into the town's cell phone mast and another down the waterfront and over the beach. It takes a conscious effort to make them leave people alone, but they're not my goal here. I want the world to see how fragile their rulers are, to laugh the beautiful people weeping on the evening news, to see the disproportionate attention and resources all this petty vandalism will draw. I want people to look at the chaos in Esmeralda and think: it was the weakest of beings that did this, and the system could do nothing to stop it. I gather the swarm together one last time, and tell the birds to disperse. The clockwork drones remain in formation, sweeping over the town in a slow circle. They'll stay like that until the Juggernaut leaves with the castle; without the command signal they'll fall on the town like so many shooting stars. It's a shame I won't be there to see it. Unleash Powers: 2d6+1 8 I'm going to mark a Condition, to be decided shortly. Gato fucked around with this message at 00:05 on Jan 7, 2017 |
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Jan 6, 2017 22:02
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Freak +1 / Danger 0 / Trouble +2 / Superior 0 / Menace 0 Curses! 0+1/5 Conditions: Angry Integrity 1 Location: Nexus Bastion ...at least, I would have done all that if Centipede - of all people! - hadn't interrupted me. Some crap about causing unnecessary trouble for the team, sounding for all the world like a scared middle manager. There's about a dozen points I could take him up on - last I checked, there weren't any superheroes to fight, causing a small-scale public disaster will tie CRISIS up, bringing down the phone mast will delay enemy reinforcements. All excuses, of course, but it's not like he's contributing much to the operation either at this point. I open my mouth to interrupt, but he keeps going, and I realize what's going on. He cares, drat him. He actually gives a drat about all those poor one-percenters down there. This isn't some sneaky political play, some desperate attempt to undermine me for some nebulous goal - no, he actually wants me to leave Esmeralda alone because of all the feelings I might hurt. Unbelievable. I let my concentration drop and turn to him, matching his stare evenly. Sundown senses my hostility and prepares to take off, but I wave her down. Not this time. Below me, the swarm surges forwards after its targets, content to seek the images I've planted, but they'll need new orders soon. "You're going to have to try harder than that if you want me to feel sorry for those people down there." My voice is one step above a snarl. I desperately want to grab his fear and push it as far as it will go, but we still need him functional. For now. "Poor little film producer has to do without TV for a few days. He'll live. He can get therapy if he's traumatised or...whatever. I don't think the people of Esmeralda are going to be lacking in assistance. You really don't have a clue, do you?" I don't know where he's from, but maybe he's more sheltered than I thought. The people down there matter in a way the other 99% don't, and this is the only way to show it to the world - but I suppose it was too much to hope he'd understand. "You think I can't put down the banner? What the hell do you think this is?" A sweep of my arms takes in the Bastion and the Juggernaut moving in to dock. "I'm helping a goddamn aristocrat take back her ancestral castle. I helped you release an extra-dimensional maniac from prison on the off-chance he'd owe us a favour - which is what you were arguing for all along, wasn't it? How many people do you think he'll hurt when the Legion invades? "Don't you dare think I can't put my goals to one side when I need to. One day I won't have to deal with any of this crap, I'll be able to do so much more than mess up one drat town, but for now I've got to put up with this. Putting my life on the line to enable a princess and her ego." Another sweep of my arms. "But when I see an opportunity, a chance to do what's important to me, I'll take it. Whereas you... you're weak. You want to talk about private lives? At least I've got one! At least I've got something I care about! What the hell do you want? What are you after? Because I don't think there's anything there." I jab my finger at him, and I feel Sundown twitch behind me. "All I see is some lackey who'll go along with anything and whine whenever anybody has an agenda. I guess we'll just have to get used to a lot of whining. " I laugh mirthlessly and turn away, looking back over the town, ordering my birds into formation again. "I don't know why you're even here." OOC: So DE needs to take two Conditions, one from her 'getting meddled with' move (since she definitely does not class Centipede as a fellow traveller) and one from her Unleash Powers roll earlier. She gets to clear one from Centipede's Cow/Rebuke, leaving her with one Condition - Angry. Marking Curses! from the same meddled with move. DE is telling Centipede the truth, so he shifts Menace up and something else down. e: removed some info DE shouldn't have, and made it clear birdemic is still happening Gato fucked around with this message at 20:54 on Jan 9, 2017 |
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Jan 9, 2017 20:13
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Freak +1 / Danger 0 / Trouble +2 / Superior 0 / Menace 0 Curses! 1/5 Conditions: Angry Integrity 1+1 Location: Nexus Bastion I'm still sorting through Centipede's attempted parting shot when everything goes wrong. Knight appears out of nowhere, Jonathan's disconcerting magic lets us down, and now I'm standing here with my new least favorite teammate and one of the many Mystic Force heroes I'd hoped to never meet. Christopher Knight could comfortably beat any of us hand-to-hand, Blackguard probably included, and he's a master sorcerer on top of that. He's furious, understandably, and his fury could easily send us both to the hospital... or the morgue. Anger is a powerful button to push, but only when you've got a way of taking advantage of it. No, the smart thing to do here would be to run, find the others, regroup and hope that the eight of us together can match him... but that's assuming nobody else is in any sort of trouble, which is never how the world works. Centipede clearly has the same idea, and I can sense his intention to distract Knight seconds before his hand goes to his pocket...and he embarrasses us both. The CRISIS goons smirk at each other, and I sense a flicker of amusement behind Knight's glare. It's probably just as well they can't see my face inside this helmet. So, Plan B. Ideally, I'd have attempted this before Centipede jumped the gun, but it's the best I've got. I take a moment to ready my business voice, then stride forward, radiating confidence. Knight doesn't have a lot of surprise or respect to work with but it's easier to find some in the grunts he's brought with him, and I can use that to amplify the effect. "The Myrmidon's not here, gentlemen. Looks like your response time could use some improvement. I wonder what the public will think? The most predictable villain in the universe, and he's slipped through your fingers. I wonder, would it be better or worse if they thought it was deliberate?" I push shame carefully, trying not to let anger take precedence, trying not to let my own anger flood through and wreck everything. You screwed up. You want to make this right. Not for the first time, I find myself wishing I could implant the thoughts directly. "But you know what is here? Navigational data for his entire fleet. Each one of those ships is connected to every other one, and it's all laid out in nice simple charts. It's all up there." I point up to the Juggernaut hanging above the castle. "Which was really the first place you should have looked." One of the goons shifts on his feet uncomfortably, and I take the opportunity to push confusion a little, and dampen down anger. "You're wondering why you should trust me. You think I'm just playing for time. Well, you're right to be suspicious. The truth is..." I can feel my train of thought rolling to an unpleasant halt...and then it hits me. Centipede's words come flooding back in a rush. I take a deep breath and let my voice rise triumphantly. "The truth is, we have a common cause, gentlemen! We have no interest in seeing the Legion on the loose either. But unlike some people, we actually did our homework! Did you know the Golden Vizier was planning to betray the Myrmidon? Did you know he was taking orders from the Infinite Empire?" Of course, Centipede's evidence for that link hardly seemed solid...but the Mystic Force can work that one out in their own time. "You were happy to imprison an obvious figurehead, and the Legion would have invaded anyway, more powerful than ever! But now, the Vizier has been neutralized, and the Legion's weaknesses will be exposed for all to see. It's taken us a few days to achieve what you couldn't in decades!" I shrug theatrically, and tilt my head upwards. "But I suppose we'll have to be content with letting you take the credit. You'll have to hurry, though...I don't know how well that ship is tethered to this dimension." I've got no idea if that's true or not, but it sounds plausible. I search for every scrap of agreement and respect and enthusiasm and pull them towards the surface. Provoke Knight: 2d6+1 9 +1 from catching him flat-footed. I get +1 forward against him, we gain a critical opportunity, or I get Influence over him - GM's choice. Dark Eagle's extensive gloating about the Caper lets her swap our 1 remaining Plan for a point of Integrity. Because that might be the only way to make this right. If I'm going to be sleeping in a goddamn castle tonight, the only way I'll get any rest is knowing that someone is taking care of the threat we've unleashed. e: spelling Gato fucked around with this message at 22:35 on Jan 10, 2017 |
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Jan 10, 2017 22:30
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