Virtue is its Own Reward: 2.0

[Sweno]

(July 9th - 1:22pm)

After abducting sword woman I made a strategic withdrawal to a rooftop a block away and waited between some air conditioning units. My force fields can imperfectly bend light around me and my cargo. I was depending on two industrial AC units to be putting out enough magnetic noise to hide my own, and the fact that they were large metal boxes couldn't hurt. Between the stealth, the shadows, and the AC units I didn't expect anyone to be able to see me unless they landed on the roof themselves.

I kept one hand on sword woman's neck, feeling her breathing and pulse for any changes while I watched the sky. I listened to the police chatter with half an ear while I waited. I couldn't make any better sense of their jargon now than I could earlier. I did hear mention of the car crash, but only because I knew where it was. The robbers had been expecting superpowered resistance. I wanted to see who it was, and how fast they arrived.

I wasn't disappointed. Less than 5 minutes after the I made my exit from the scene they came flying in, a pair of adults in bulky swat gear from the southeast. I couldn't tell their gender or age beyond 'somewhere between 20 and 50'. They slowed down before coming into view of the crash and landed on one of the roofs overlooking the street. They were cautious as they surveyed the scene. My C&C modules picked up chatter on the standard paragon band, but like any private chat, all I got was encrypted noise. What surprised me though was a shortwave unencrypted transmission.

[Local]Officer McNealy: Come out with your hands up. This is your only warning. Any show of hostilities will be met with lethal force.

Well it looked like these three had certainly pissed someone off. I really needed to keep better tabs on what was going on around here. The two supers had another brief encrypted chat before one of them took up a sniping position on the roof and the other went down to investigate. I lost sight of them as they dropped below my sightline, but I didn't have to wait too long before there was another brief burst of encrypted chatter and the person playing sniper relaxed and dropped down the street as well.

I took that as my cue to leave. They wouldn't be able to see the flash of light from my teleport, and I didn't know how long they would stick around. I don't like 2-on-1 odds, heck I don't like 1-on-1 odds. I prefer 1-on-7 odds, but I don't have any of my bots with me right now. Confrontations with the superpowered swat duo would have to wait until a later date.

-----

A brief stopover was made at the house to pick up some of my tools and a blanket. I also stashed one of the duffel bags full of money and her sword in the attic, in separate locations. I had no idea if she could summon it, or track it's location. I wanted the sword out of the way, but in a place where it could be retrieved with minimal hassle. I didn't have the time to drop it off someplace else, didn't even have time to finish cleaning up the mess in the office that I had made.

The big uncertainty was how long my cargo would stay unconscious. Sure, I could hit her in the head a few more times. But I wanted useful information sometime later tonight, not in a few weeks. Without knowing more about her physiology I wasn't going to risk permanent damage. Which meant I had a limited amount of time to come up with a convincing approximation of a cell.

-----

(July 9th - 4:37pm)

I ended up clearing out one of the side rooms in the mountainside facility. It was 5'x10' and had originally housed a bunch of industrial transformers. Things that were state of the art 20 years ago, but were now little more than lumps of metal and wire. All of them fell firmly in the scrap category of equipment. Teleporting them out of the room did unhappy things to the places where they were affixed to the wall and floor. But removing a few bits of twisted metal was much preferable to disassembling them and carrying them out a piece at a time. They made dull thumps as they landed on the ground outside. I would have to clean that up later, one more thing on a growing list.

Two heavy mesh covers from a pair of racks elsewhere in the building, some conduit, brackets, wiring, and a box with switches and knobs came together to make an electrified barrier. Or at least what would pass for one until you actually touched it. All it had to do was divide the room in half and look sturdy enough. It was mounted to the floor and walls with six large rubber washers scavenged from the parts my dingbot had disassembled. The box (the purpose behind I hadn't bother to figure out beyond it looking impressively complicated) plugged into the wall, and wires ran from the transformer to the barrier, completing the illusion of something you don't want to touch.

The real trap was door. Located on my side of the barrier, it was a simple faux wood door with a metal handle. I had dragged a set of capacitors out from one of the old CRT television screens they had up here and wired them to the doorknob on the outside. Suspended in the setup was a little under a kilovolt at maybe 50 milliamps. Enough to knock a human on their ass and give them problems getting up for the next few minutes, but hopefully not enough to kill them.

The final touch to the cell was a desk lamp someone had left behind. I had to make a run down to the house and get a working bulb, but it lit up the room rather well once I hooked up one of my spare batteries and transformers. So far it was the only working light in the base. I really needed to fix my power issues.

I ported out of the room and walked over to the corner where sword woman was. She had been under the watchful (if not all that intelligent) gaze of my dingbot. I had recharged his batteries and given it the rather simple task of watching my captive and letting me know if she woke up. She hadn't during the roughly three hours it had taken me to construct her cell. I had managed to remove her mask, boots, belt, and gloves. The rest of her costume didn't have a seam or zipper, just one molded spandex body condom with raised bits of additional armor. I might have been able to burn it off of her with the soldering iron, but that would have been delicate and destructive work. Not exactly something I could fix if needed, and I much preferred to have an ally than an enemy at this point.

I picked her, and the blanket I had wrapped her in, up. Porting both of us into the cell, I put her on the floor and ported to the other side of the barrier. As I had hoped, the jostling and the noise of the teleports started to wake her up. I played with one of her gloves while waiting for her to wake up, not expecting to learn anything from it, more as a show of power. I didn't have to wait all that long.

She came awake with a start and a wince, bringing a hand to her head and muttering something I didn't hear. Her gaze shifted around the room for a few seconds before settling on me. After a few seconds of staring I decided to break the silence.

"I'm sorry about the accommodations, but I have learned that it is better to be safe than sorry." I said, crouching down to be eye level with her. "My name is Terry, and I believe that we have a common interest. You have, along with your friends, shown a willingness to use your powers for personal gain. I am hoping that you would be willing to set your sights on a slightly longer term goals than just robbing banks and destroying property . What do you say Ms ...?" I trailed off, hoping she would fill in the blank.

"Rebecca, just Rebecca" She answered. Then she smiled a bit and added "And I don't care what type of shielding you have here, my friends are going find me, then they're going to help me kick your ass. We don't take too kindly to kidnapping."

I couldn't resist smiling back. "Oh I have no doubt that if your friends were in any shape to help you I would be in trouble. But the cops seemed very interested in them while I was busy hauling you out of there. You should be thanking me instead of threatening me, I saved your ass."

"Saved my ass?" Rebecca parroted back at me. "You tried to shoot me! And don't dismiss Rob and Jake like that. They're just stuck in jail somewhere. And there ain't no jail here that can hold us. They'll bust out of there, and bust into here."

I repressed a sigh at that, I had been hoping for someone intelligent that I could work with. "Yes, saved your ass. I was only going to stun you." I lied "Do you have any idea how pissed the cops are at you? The two that flew in were looking to take you away in a body bag, not a set of handcuffs."

"It doesn't matter, they wouldn't have caught me anyway. They don't even know what I look like." She said, getting to her feet. "One click and I'm just another panicked citizen." Rebecca fit actions to words and pressed something on her body-stocking. One flash of light later and she was standing in front of me in jeans, sneakers, a t-shirt and a jacket. Just like any other person on the street. Her glove that I had been playing with disappeared as well.

She smiled at my lack of immediate response and continued to gloat. "No camera got a clear pic of our faces, and all that those eye-witnesses see are the spandex and powers."

"You really think your luck is going to hold?" I said, trying a different tact "There were two after you today, what about next week? Can you fight off four? Six?"

Rebecca's smile dimmed a bit. "How many banks do you piss off before they post a large enough bounty that the villains start coming after you as well?"

She looked at me angrily before the arrogance came back. "It don't matter, we can hire our own muscle as well. We're got the power now, and we're going to carve our own little slice of heaven out of this city. You would be smart to pick the right side." The last part was delivered with a pointed look at the kludged together barrier.

Great, and I was hoping that I could at least convince her to head somewhere else, like Vegas. She just had to be all gung-ho to start a war in San Francisco. I didn't let my disappointment show on my face (not all that hard anymore) as I flicked a few switches on the box by my feet. "Alright, I'll consider pooling resources, but first I want to see how well you break your friends out of jail. I can port us there, but the cops aren't going to be happy with our arrival."

"Oh I don't think that's anything to worry about." Rebecca said as she pressed something on her belt. Again there was a flash of light. This time she had on much heavier armor, including a helmet with a full face shield. Heavy shoulder pads, gauntlets and boots completed the image of something that could, and had, taken a heavy beating. A nasty looking sword on her left hip completed the 'Dangerous' feeling she was giving off. If I still had salivary glands my mouth would have watered at all the high goodies crammed in there.

I walked up the barrier and gestured for her to backup a bit. Once she had given me enough room I ported to her side of the barrier. "The first jump might feel a little strange, I think the cops are working on some sort of anti-teleportation tech for the holding cells." I said as I walked up to Rebecca and laid a hand on her shoulder.

This close I could see her giving my hand a look through her tinted visor. I just grabbed her elbow with my other hand and said "Look, I don't want to smear us across the outside of the police station. So just give me a minute and let me get this right."

"Right. Just don't fuck up." was Rebecca's only response.

Oh I wasn't planning on that at all. I made sure I had a firm grip on her arm and spooled up my teleport matrix. Rebecca only sensed something was wrong at the last moment, but it was too late by then. Her cry of "He-" was cut off by the roar of light and noise.

I landed in main room of the base still holding her arm. Her scream from the next room could be heard through the wall. I tossed her arm behind a pile of junk and drew my arachnos mace. I didn't have an unlimited supply of the webbing, but getting my hands on the rest of that armor would be well worth it.

Deploying as much of my defensive shielding as I could without being completely cut off from the world around me I ported back into the room. Her screams of pain turned to screams of anger as she saw me again. I didn't have time to try and web Rebecca's feet before she had blew through the makeshift barrier and was taking swings at me. Even with only one arm my shields weren't enough to deflect her blows. I started losing chunks of my mace as I tried to parry them. The fourth attack stuck in the shaft. Rebecca pressed her attack, pinning me against the wall and weapons between us. Unfortunately she didn't have to worry about the mace pressing up against her armor, while I had to worry about the sword that was slowly making it's way though my upper arm.

"I'm going to take you apart you bitch" She said with vicious glee.

Fortunately she was standing right next to me and didn't seem all that inclined to move all that soon. I let go of the mace and grabbed her arm with one hand; repressing a wince as the sword sunk another inch into my arm and I lost some fine motor control in that hand. Rebecca had enough time to glance at my hand and attempt to pull away before it happened. I didn't need any prep time for a port this simple. I wasn't trying to go anywhere but UP, and she was coming with me.

She finished pushing away from me as the port finished, but at that point it didn't matter. I took a moment to wave at her with my good arm before porting back down to the ground. My legs could easily take the strain of hitting the ground at a little over 10 mph, I was curious how her suit would hold up after hitting the ground at 120 mph. Winning via gravity test had not been my first choice, it tends to damage the spoils of war. But between getting slightly damaged goods and losing an arm, the decision was easy. Arms are a real pain in the ass to reattach when you only have one hand to work with.

It took her almost ten seconds to fall the half mile, but she made a very satisfying crunch when she landed. I walked over and picked up a leg. Ignoring the way it bent in more places than it should I dragged the body inside. I needed to get the armor off of her before her blood started to corrode some of the delicate electronics inside.

---

Notes: To avoid any confusion, yes clank was lying about Rebecca's friends being alive.
-Terry
-----
"so listen up boy, or pornography starring your mother will be the second worst thing to happen to you today"
TF2: Spy

[Dragonflight]

[Wednesday, July 8, 5:30pm]
I pulled up to my sister's place with something approaching dread. I could see her car in the driveway, and making my way over, I noticed the tiny dog she'd picked up a while back standing on the inner windowsill, and yapping as I approached.
By the time I made it to the door, she was already opening it up and waving me in. "You don't really look any different, you know."
I rolled my eyes as I pulled off the shoes and made my way into the living room. "I told you I got lucky. Kara's a shapeshifter in the old Marvel game. And my original character concept seems to have influenced what I got." I looked around, a little embarrassed. "You know, this feels really weird discussing a roleplaying character like a real person."
She gave me a Look, and waved in the direction of the tv room. "Do you know I've seen news reports of a guy dressed like Superman with a shield flying away? People at work are sharing YouTube videos of people with superpowers. And word has it that people all over the world are having this happen to them. So really, your becoming a part-time girl is actually pretty easy to handle." She snickered. "Besides, I'm looking forward to having another sister in the family."
I gave her a nonplussed look, which she returned with a huge grin. "So show already! You said you can shapeshift, right? So shift!"
I reached down and twisted the way I'd been taught and held up the armband computer which appeared out of nowhere. Her eyes widened as she took in the demonstration. "This is one of the devices we used in Paragon," I began, taking a bit of a lecturing tone. "It's a portable computer that lets me - among other things - handle the transformations. See, Kara's a lot lighter than I am, and nothing fits. So I have to combine the shift with a transformation to her fighting suit. It's the only thing I've got right now that actually fits her."
I stepped to the sliding door out back, and asked her to hold on to the dog. "I'm not sure how much of the transformation is real and how much is just an optical illusion, but there's electricity involved, and the dog really doesn't want to be that close to me."
She looked nervous. "And the lawn?"
I chuckled. "Kara's memories tell me that stuff around me are okay. It's just being touch-range close that I'm worried about. Ready?" At her nod, I raised my right hand up into the air, and summoned the lightning.
Energy crackled around me, and there was a crack-boom as I shifted form in a flash of light. When it cleared, I checked myself over. Smaller hands, yes. Long coppery-red hair, yes. Breasts protected inside armored bra inside a kevlar-spandex bodysuit, yes.
I paused. I really didn't need to remember that part...
I took a breath and smiled back at my sister, who stared at me with wide eyes. I looked around self-consciously. We'd had a lot of bad weather lately, but I didn't want people noticing the girl in the spandex bodysuit in my sister's backyard. Sure it had a fence, but I didn't want to tempt fate. After a quick gesture and a raised eyebrow she ushered me back inside.
"So..." she touched my arm experimentally. When I didn't vanish, she poked a little more. I yelped and skittered back when she poked my front, eliciting a teasing grin from her. "You have to work on that," she said as I walked back into the living room. "Like it or not, you're a girl at least part of the time now, and you can't afford to give yourself away by reacting like a guy caught peeping in the girl's locker room."
I sighed and sat down. "That's not the hardest part of this, honestly." I gestured outside. "I have memories of being Kara. Two whole lifetimes, in fact. In one, she's a law student who part times as a superheroine to pay the bills. In the other, she's a lawyer who became a member of the SHIELD organization, and was trained as a superspy."
My sister leaned back, a thoughtful smile on her face. "So you're going into law this fall. I think I see why you got this girl. You and she actually have a lot in common, no matter where she came from."
One thing about my sister, she's sharp as a tack. Nothing gets past her. "I guess," I allowed. "But while I have all the memories of Kara, I don't have the confidence of Kara. That's been my biggest falling-down point. I have the training from Paragon Earth which was mostly about controlling low end power. I have some of the most rigorous survival and weapons training imaginable from Marvel Earth, and a lot of training in counterinsurgency and counterterrorism training."
She leaned forward as I said that, a curious look on her face. "So... what exactly were you in the second place? In English this time?"
I smirked and sighed. "Best way to explain it is in context. In the game, our group was responsible for saving the world. But we had to smash several major super villain groups, stop a time traveler with really advanced technology, and destroy the US military infrastructure. The characters were very much considered terrorists before they could clear their names and prove the President had in fact been mind-controlled by a psychic tyrant who called himself the Shadow King. And I have all those memories in here!" I looked up in frustration as my sister's eyes widened as what I was saying finally made sense.
"I remember Soulburner. He was a sadistic creep who went into people's minds and gave them phobias. Anything he wanted. For the sadistic pleasure of it." I looked back at her. "Imagine gaining a phobia about water. Any water. Or a phobia about dry land. Or a phobia about air!" I shuddered as I remembered Soulburner's touch on my mind, and all the work Cassie had put into removing his implanted limits. "It took a long time to get the worst of that crap out of me after he finished interrogating me."
I looked out the window. "When Shin pulled out that plasmacaster and used it to incinerate the creep, all I felt was a tremendous and abiding satisfaction."
"Who?"
I looked back at her. "Shin Ishiharra. Power armor expert who wound up getting fused with a design he'd built. He wound up with a bit of a Guyver complex afterward. After he got cleaned up, he bought out Yamaha Heavy Industries. He was the guy who provided us with funds and heavy equipment. I smiled at her blank look. "Think of a Japanese Tony Stark with the ability to summon power armor."
She got up and walked around, the dog scampering off to find something else more interesting. "So... you were saying something over the phone about an external viewpoint?"
"Yeah. I mean, I've got these powers. Shouldn't I use them for more than recharging a flashlight now and then?"
She smiled and pulled out a couple grainy photo printouts from a folder on the dining room table. "You're thinking of doing what these people do?"
I looked at the pictures. Most of them had been taken from YouTube videos, based on her statement earlier. A guy dressed surprisingly like Superman with an 'S' shield. I wondered how long before he redecorated his outfit to the standard one. "It's hard not to want to. My memories of Paragon say that I should be doing that every day. My Marvel memories tell me it's not that simple, but I should still be looking for ways to help. Even if they don't know I'm doing it."
"So how do you plan to get around?"
I stood up and toggled the belt. Then I hopped into the air, and stayed there. "This is a start," I said as she looked at me, wide eyed. "The belt lets me hover. But that's really all it does." I shifted midair and drifted around the room. "My other 'donor' form has the ability to generate kinetic force as well as lightning, which means I should be able to duplicate this trick myself. Even actually fly. But I need practice. And there's just nowhere I can do this kind of stuff. Not to mention practice throwing lightning. It's kind of loud," I explained when she looked at me questioningly.
She thought about it for maybe half a second. Remember I said she was fast? She pulled out a few pictures of a large family party we'd had earlier this year at my uncle's. A fifty-acre piece of quiet nowhere over half an hour from Ottawa. "What about here? I think they'd help if we asked. And I'm pretty sure they'd keep it secret too."
I slowly grinned. "That's... That's perfect." I looked uncertain for a moment. "But... you know they're very conservative about some things. Will they handle it?"
She grinned. "Only one way to find out. But before that, we need to do something else. Because you're about a foot taller than I am, and nothing I have will fit."
I felt that dread in my gut return. "You're not serious."
She laughed as she went to get her things. "You need clothes. And you need to practice being seen in public more as a girl. Or you'll never do it convincingly otherwise. C'mon. It's time you and I went on a shopping trip."
I groaned theatrically as she towed me out the door.
---
Those who fear the darkness have never seen what the light can do.

[Rev Dark]

The world of comic books and strips has a number of well established paradigms for when the hero is about to whip out of serious can of whoop-ass. For Popeye,
the whoop ass comes with a can of spinach; and perhaps a bit of lubrication with Olive Oyl. The Thing cries out that it is clobbering time; one can only hope
that this is never heard coming from the water closet at the Baxter building. Wolverine growls something about being the best he is at what he does; before
going out of his tiny little mind in a berserk rage. Mighty Mouse calls out that he is indeed coming to save the day; with or without accompaniment by Andy
Kaufman. Andy Kaufman doesn't say much of anything these days, unless he is shuffling off somewhere doing his zombie best, muttering brains and wrestling
luchadors.

I didn't do any of these things.

Part of it was purely practical. I was in no position to put forth a sensational battle cry; shorts and a now torn, blood and bowel stained t-shirt were too
much to try and overcome. I could have called forth the best battle phrase since Alexander the Great uttered his, in an instant becoming Great, rather than
Alexander, Phil's kid; and it still could not overcome the fact that I looked like an utter berk.

Part of it was extremely practical. I wasn't there to amuse comic book readers or Saturday morning cartoon enthusiasts. I was there to survive. To win. To
render my opponent utterly incapable of continuing hostilities.

Exacalibastard on Virtue is built as a willpower scrapper; in City of Heroes parlance, all my toggles had just switched on. The reality was very different. My
muscles had changed. I knew that my strength had increased by several orders of magnitude. My lungs were drawing in air, oxygen extracted and burned with
greater efficiency. My perception of time skewed slightly. It still moved on as it always did, but I was reacting to my perception of it faster.

The angel came in again, intent on finishing me off. A fast horizontal strike targeted to take my head cleanly off at the shoulders. Cleanly? No. I suspect it
would spray. A lot. I staggered, letting him think I was still reeling in pain, then moved. I let my swords vanish and stepped inside his swing. My right hand
slapped into the angel's chest and slid up. As soon as my fingertips touched the glottal, they pushed in and down. My left hand closed on the pommel of his
sword. I twisted the pommel towards his thumb and my fingers drove him down to the ground.

The glottal is a very important control point. Press on it and the target will go to great lengths to get away from you; you can use that natural reaction and
guide it. In this case, towards the floor. He fell backwards, and I heard a loose, ugly crack as the long bones in one of his wings broke. His sword came free
from his hand as he fell. I jerked it so the grip slip neatly into my palm. Then I drove the sword through the angel and into the floor. The polished concrete
underneath broke as the steel crashed through it, cracks spreading outwards. I left him there. It was a nature museum. Someone would get around to labeling
him.

Then I entered the dinosaur exhibit.

And started laughing.

[firvulag]

[Tuesday July 7th]
The hallway leading from my building to the one with the cafeteria is long, empty and painted a depressing clinical white.  This gave me entirely too much time to think about things as I walked down it.
I stepped out into the dark brick interior of the next building and headed around the central pillar towards the stairs.  As usual there was someone sitting in the lounge there with a laptop.  She didn't look up as I went past, allowing me to put this off for another few seconds.  The knot in my stomach got that much worse.
The stairs leading down to the cafeteria were also empty, but at this time of day the cafeteria itself would not be. Taking a deep breath I pulled open the door and stepped inside.
There was the usual scattering of summer term students in the cafeteria, maybe six in all, most either focused on their food or on laptops and papers.  I passed by one pair of girls who were sitting near the door and noticed the one facing towards me twitch as a went past.
I caught the motion mostly in my peripheral vision and tensed slightly. Mostly because of the tension I was feeling I think, but both Alica and I had been somewhat high strung.  As it was I was able to keep the spines from popping out, but it was a near thing.  I could feel them itching bellow the surface, ready to come out and I tried to focus on calming myself down as I stood by the hot water dispenser filling my cup.  The urge to just fade away and hide was almost overwhelming, but deep, calm breathing during the interminable time it took for my mug to fill helped.
The baked goods/pastry rack was still reasonably well stocked and my eyes brightened as I saw there was a chocolate-chocolate chip muffin left.  I snagged it on my way by and angled for the cash register.  My day seemed to be getting even better when I saw the cashier was the pretty young woman who'd started working at this cafeteria at the start of the term.
Then she got a look at my face.  She was good I'll give her that, the startled reaction was fairly small and the look of shock was only on her face for a moment before she replaced it with a strained smile that didn't reach her eyes.  I felt my face twist into its own fake smile as I placed the muffin on the counter and pulled my wallet out of my pocket.
Two minutes later I was back in my office.  I gently placed the muffin and mug on my desk and fished a tea bag out of the box sitting next to my books.  My hands shook a little as I tore the wrapper open and dropped the bag into the water.  I stopped then, staring at the scars on my arms and watched as I raised a hand to trace the ones on my face.  The rage at the back of my mind slammed into the barriers I'd placed around it.
This was going to be harder than I thought.
--
History books in Ireland and Scotland are littered with the 'wrong' spelling,
and there is no law that tells you how to spell whisky. The Welsh even spell
it 'chwisgi', which makes sense after two or three large ones.
 - from http://uk.glenfiddich.com/world/faqs/

[dark seraph]

13/07/09



Man… this feels so odd. Was the first thing that came to
Sera's mind as she entered the shopping centre. She had spent hours tiring to figure out how to disguise her self… till she realised all she needed was a
beanie to tuck her ears under.

As she walked along, she every now and aging could sense some one showing interest in her, but that was easily dealt with a gentle application of telepathy.
Okay, this is creepy, I can just reach out and make people lose interest in me… wait, it's magic, so how dose it
work? She continued along, completely lost in her thoughts when she heard someone call for security.

Spinning around, she saw a massive guy in hoody bolting from a store, carrying what looked like a plasma screen under one arm and a cash register under the
other. With out even thinking she took after him. The guy ploughed through the crowds, sending people sprawling as he went. Screw this. Sera's hands blurred as she traced a spell and lobed it at him.

It was a simple sleep spell, more than enough to drop the average guy, so she was surprised when it only slowed him for a few seconds. Okay… that wasn't meant to happen. She bolted after him, catching up just in time to see him send a security guard
flying. Okay… I just came across some supper crook.

Weaving what little magic she could get, she summoned ice around the guy's legs, pining him in place. Yes, got him. She then watched in mute horror as the guy turned around, the ice only mildly hampering his movement.
… Oh shit, that never happened in the game.

The guy threw back his head and let out a below, his hoodie sliding off and revealing his face. Oh crap… it's a
troll, what the hell is a troll doing here? She threw her self to one side as the Troll used the stolen T.V. as a makeshift missile.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. She quickly got to her feet and sent another blast at the troll. "Hey!
Shrek!" she called out. "Tag!" She blasted him once again to get his attention and sprinted to the car
park. Okay, now I have a very angry troll after me… now what?

Ducking behind a car she decided to risk having a look in the trolls mind. Closing her eye's she reached out and felt for his mind… and recoiled
as she felt pure rage boiling off it, a combination of the transformation and the begging's of super dyne withdrawal had put it on the edge…and her attempt
to stop him had pushed him over.

Crap… raging troll and it's my fault, what do I do? The Troll had decide to speed her thought process by
flipping a near by car. He let out a massive bellow as he then ripped off the car's drive shaft and started swing it around like a crude club.

I have to stop this… what happens if he hit's some one? She swore slightly, she was gonna have to stop this
guy. Getting up she shouted out to the troll and ran off the right. The troll turned and lobed the cash register at her but missed by a mile.

Pulling more arcane energy around her hands she bolted at the troll. This better work. Slamming her fist against
his gut, there was a sudden blast of cold air, Stepping back she looked at her work. The Troll was now encased in block of ice from the neck down. See, that wasn't so hard… oh I feel tired now.

Slumping down, she noticed a crowd had formed. The troll let out a snarl, so she blasted him with a sleep spell again, this time getting it to work.
Geh, I suppose I have to explain all this shit to the cops and make sure they know how to deal with a troll.
Slumping against the frozen troll, she patiently waited. Well Sera, now the whole town has seen the hero in action,
what's you next plan?

[Ankhani]

So, I needed to get up north. It was a whole lot easier said than done when you had little in the way of transportation though. It would be a little tricky to hop a ride without incident, the news was all over the new emergence of powers and super criminals, which meant that hitching would be an unwise idea. Easy, for sure, but more trouble than it's worth. Getting a ticket on a bus was simple enough, websites don't know who it is asking so long as you have a valid source of money they can gobble up, and I knew all the answers security challenges the payment might come up with.
With the ticket printed out, I got all ready to head out. Packing was minimal, besides the clothes I had on - and the others that were stored somewhere- I would look foolish and feel uncomfortable wearing any of my other too large or in once case, too small, clothes. Foolish is certainly not the look you want to have unless you know who you're dealing with and what you want to get out of an exchange, and being uncomfortable can upset working cold. It was much easier to simply dress up and look nice. I got out of the dark leathers I used for 'work' and got into the rather lovely (and harmless) looking fuku I had put together for such occasions.
Getting to the bus station was a simple walk. Several heads were turned in passing, though none were quite so brave as to approch me even if they did make their intent clear. I found my seat on the far side of a man brooding in his chair. In a bid to capture his attention, I put on extra show opening the overhead storage and streching to put the small bag I did have up inside. Being rather short had some small disadvantages, but using them properly is a sure way to attract attention. When he didn't look up, instead tried to look away, I became suspicious. He was up to somthing, and I would have to keep an eye on him and keep trying to get a rise out of him as well.
As the bus began to pull into the station, the man was looking quite conflicted. Apparently my work was not going unnoticed, but he seemed to be trying to keep his focus on another thing, as if he wanted to do something, but wasn't sure. The first sign of trouble was him rising with the sort of air of a person who has assuredly decided to himself. Then there were telltale pink pompoms of doom surrounding his fists. He smashed his seat in some silly show of strength and power.
"Nobody Mpve," he suddenly shouted out, "Or the pretty schoolgirl here gets it!"
Wow. He just made one bad, bad mistake. I did my best to look terrified and helpless. It wasn't hard. While I was rather irritated at the disruption, at least the fool had given me somthing put my skills to. Within a few moments I had my eyes teared up and lips trembling. Quick short breaths both gave a sense of panic, and made my chest move much more than it would have otherwise. It drew his already leering eyes right in, like a moth to the flame. "P-please.. What do you w-want from me?" Sliding back in my seat was a perfect cover for a subtle spread of my legs. The skirt wasn't made to cover much in this position, as I well knew, and I made sure he had an ample veiw.
He took a few moments to think it over with himself, though I was certain I knew exactly what he was pondering over. He reached down with one arm and drug me off, my token protest seeming to only encourage him. He thre me into the small bathroom in the back, and then squeezed in himself. There wasn't much extra room for the two of us, and he was pressed up against me. "Ohhh, I'm going to enjoy this, little girl." He leaned forward to kiss and grope me, the good part being he had totally lost intrest in being ready to hurt me, and never noticed the bus continuing to move.
Pressure points are wonderful things. Knowing the right points on the body, you can stimulate blood flow, relax muscles, or even knock out a man twice your size and strength. I suppose I could have killed him with out putting on all the show, but keeping up apperances is important. There was no subtle way to slit his throat in the isle of a bus with a wakizashi with out drawing even more attention than being a hostage. Once subdued I strode out of the bathroom cheerily, and slipped through the throng of passengers. Within moments I had dissappeared into the crowds, courtesy of placate.
---

The Master said: "It is all in vain! I have never yet seen a man who can perceive his own faults and bring the charge home against himself."

>Analects: Book V, Chaper XXVI

[Rev Dark]

So gaining superpowers from a video game is officially not the strangest thing that has ever happened to me. Kicking the manna scented shite out of a cadre of
angels is not the strangest thing. Sure they are both strange, but there is a certain logic to them. Once you plunge into the logic stream, you can swim in it
without too much trouble. Keep your head above the water, kick with your feet and hope the various islands in the stream are not flowing from a sewer leak.

Then I walked into the dinosaur exhibit. A large man, dressed as a priest who thought he was rolling around in the cool pool, but was instead paddling amid the
shallow, skittles and schnapps scented-vomit that collected in the washrooms at Andy Warhol's parties. I am sure the vomit was delightfully warm when
fresh, but cool it was not.

Now the fighting priest who may or may not talk to the young was trying, and failing, to get down with his bad Alexander Anderson self. Here is a hint. Skulls
are not the way to accessorize for a fighting priest. There might be a certain internal logic, zombie messiah and ritual cannibalism figuring highly, but the
reality did not play out that way.

Plus he was smashing a dinosaur skeleton with a mace.

Okay. That could have been cool. If you were a fighting priest in a Harryhausen inspired spectacle film, and the dinosaur skeleton was attacking you while a
chesty maiden sheltered behind your mighty, muscled bound , legs and breathed heavily, her bosom threatening to escape her tattered top with every inhale, then
cool might just be your middle name. It might even be your first name.

But when you are shouting "Out Devil" at the top of your lungs while smashing a museum exhibit, cool is not your middle name. It is not your first
name. It is not your last name. None of your friends have that name.

Despite what you think.

Or at least what he thought.

If you can use that word.

"Excuse me sir?" I tentatively raised a hand, as if the museum was a public school class.

He looked up from his work, his cries trailing out.

"You do know that these aren't the actual fossils. They are casts made from the originals." Helpful. That's me. Wait for it.

"What?"

"So you didn't know." I nodded sagely. "Just making sure."

[Bob Schroeck]

Monday, July 6, 9:31 AM EDT
I ended up taking a sick day in order to deal with the penguin and the voice in my head. Peggy, however, needed to be at work for a telephone conference with someone from her company's outsourced IT department, which was now based in Manila. Yes, the one in the Philippines. So I had to drive her to her office in Plainsboro by six thirty.
I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised that Alistair insisted on coming along. I didn't argue, and Raye's presence in my mind exuded a palpable relief. I didn't blame her -- things were strange enough for her without being deprived of her one anchor to familiarity.
I, on the other hand, found nothing familiar in having a penguin around.
To his credit, Alistair was quiet for most of the ride. However, after I dropped Peggy off, he crawled into her vacated front seat with a nimbleness I wouldn't've expected from any creature with his height-to-girth ratio. "Seatbelt, please," he requested before I could put the car in gear.
I turned and looked at him. He looked back, and held up a wing. "I can neither reach the clasp, nor am I strong enough to draw the strap down across my body." He glanced rather forlornly at the end of the fin. "I am also somewhat deficient in manipulatory digits, which poses its own problems."
In the back of my head, Raye giggled. "Laugh it up, Blondie," I muttered as I buckled Alistair in.
"Ah, yes. Raye has always been amused by my... shortcomings."
I glanced over at the waterfowl. "Did you just make a joke?"
A beady black eye stared at me. "I do not know how you may have envisioned me, sir, but I am by no means devoid of a sense of humor."
I remembered one of the short pieces I'd posted in the forum and nodded. "Right. 'Your Personal Penguin' -- I'd forgotten about that."
"Indeed." Alistair seemed somewhat mollified by my concession.
"So..." I asked after several minutes of silence during which I turned off of College Road and onto Route 1 northbound. Merging into the light traffic occupied me for a few seconds before I continued. "What's next, o wise master?"
Alistair snorted. "Next, o featherless biped, we see if Raye exists only as a voice in your mind or still has a physical existence of her own." He paused pensively, then continued. "I can only assume the latter must be true, else I would never have been reassigned to this timeline."
I risked a quick glance to my right before returning my eyes to the road. "'Reassigned'? You know, that's something I never actually worked up for Raye's character -- where her powers, and you for that matter, come from. So spill. Who reassigned you?"
"That, Mr. Schroeck," the penguin replied snottily, "is Need-To-Know information, and you do not need to know."
"You know, herringwipe," I replied with the hint of a snarl, "You're lucky you don't taste like chicken."
"I am quaking in my non-existent boots," Alistair replied, perfectly deadpan, staring out the window at the Wall Street Journal building as it passed.

---

Raye squealed, grabbed up Alistair, and spun around energetically in the warm sunshine. "It worked! I'm me!"
And I'm me, said a male voice in the back of her head, with more good humor than snarkiness. So glad we got that straightened out.
After returning from delivering Peggy to her job, Bob and Alistair had decided to take the next logical steps in the back yard of their home. It wasn't the most private location -- on two sides nearby homes looked directly into it, while from where she stood, Raye could see all the way to two of the streets that defined the irregularly-shaped block and needed only move a few feet to see a third. However, all three of them agreed that it was better than risking the Schroeck home and its contents on any unexpected side-effects of their efforts. She idly noted that the grass was in want of a mowing; it tickled her ankles as she spun around, her arms full of penguin.
Alistair's voice suddenly cut through her wordless delight at being re-embodied. "Please put me down, Raye, I believe I am going to be ill."
I'd do it, Raye. Last thing you want now that you're out in the sun again is to get penguin barf on you.
"Oh, yuck."
Alistair had grass under his feet a moment later. He took a minute or two to recover from Raye's enthusiastic spin, during which Raye studied the yard behind the sage-green house. Not ten feet away, adjacent to a concrete patio that led to a sliding glass door, was a beige brick barbecue grill with a low attached wall running next to it. Overwhelming the wall was a positive explosion of giant purple, pink and white flowers on stems that all seemed as tall or taller than she was. "Wow," she whispered as she stepped closer and gently ran her fingers over the tissue-thin petals of one dinner-plate-sized flower. "Pretty."
Hibiscus, Bob said. And the bushes over there by the fence, those are Rose of Sharon. Peggy's very proud of those.
The bushes in question were even taller, and speckled with many pinkish blossoms, much smaller than the hibiscus but very similar in appearance.
Alistair coughed rather importantly, and as she swiveled back to him he said, "Well. We have determined that Robert can, by invoking your transformation incantation, effectively exchange places with you in your unpowered form."
I'd be happier about that, said Bob's mental voice, if we knew you could undo it, too.
"Bob wants us to try changing back," Raye promptly relayed. It had only taken one instance of calling him "Mr. Schroeck" before Bob insisted on less formal address. Raye had seized on it eagerly.
Alistair appeared momentarily flustered. "Ah... quite. I was going move on to invoking your transformation next, but yes, that is a valid concern, and only polite. It is, after all, his body mass you are using, presumably."
Raye nodded. "I don't want to feel like a thief," she said as much for her "host"'s benefit as for her mascot/trainer.
"Very well then," Alistair. "I'm sure you recall the mental trigger for the detransformation."
Raye didn't dignify that with a response, and instead simply steeled her will and invoked the change back. It felt strange to be doing this when not powered up, almost wrong, but she ignored the feeling and flipped what she thought of most of the time as a kind of mental switch.
The world went black.
When it came back, she was a passenger in Bob's head again. "Yay, it worked," Bob said with no small amount of satisfaction. "My wife thanks you, my mother thanks you..."
Raye giggled, and she felt, in a strange inside way, his answering smile.
"Okay then," he went on before Alistair could interject anything, "Let's give Raye the driver's seat again and see if her sharp pointy toys came with her."
"Quite."
Bob chuckled. "And I have to admit I'm curious to see if her invulnerability powers make her glow as much as she appears to in the game." He glanced down at the penguin. "If everyone's ready..."
Whenever you are, Bob, she "said."
He nodded, then raised one hand to the sky. "By the power of the Holy Sword," he intoned for the second time in ten minutes, "HENSHIN!"
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.

[Sweno]

(July 9th - 7pm)

Cleanup always takes longer than you expect.

I should have learned that lesson after years of cleaning up after Agatha, Tarvek, and Gilgamesh. But it seemed to have slipped my mind in all the excitement of arriving here and rushing to get a base of operations setup.

The largest time-sink was also the most important. Rebecca's suit of armor. I hadn't even finished dragging it into the building before I realized my first problem.

I had no refrigeration. And even if I did, I had no significant source of power to keep it running. Car batteries would only last a few hours at best. So I dragged the suit and it's contents back out into the woods, leaving another crimson trail. The blood that was pooling inside leaked out of the ruined shoulder joint with every other step.

After a few hundred feet I set it down and got to work cracking the seals. Every suit of armor I've run across (except for those built by the phenomenally egotistical or paranoid) has a way to take it apart from the outside without a cutting torch. The builders realize that allowing their allies to open the suit and administer help is a good thing. So it was just a matter of poking and prodding until you found the correct hidden latch or panel.

It was over an hour, three hidden IO ports, and a removed pauldron later I found the mechanical release for the remaining arm. After that things got easier, the helmet came off in short order and I was able to pry the clamshell top open. Dragging Rebecca out of the suit wasn't very fun at all, especially since the compound fractures in her shins wanted to catch in the knee joints. But with enough tugging, and eventually hanging the suit by it's feet and shaking, I was able to remove the corpse. I left it for the coyotes and mountain lions to fight over.

I tossed the helmet into pocket space and carried the rest of the armor back to the building. The dingbot was eagerly waiting for me when I stepped inside. Through bings, dings, and gestures it conveyed that something had happened. Nothing dangerous, but something different enough for it to fetch me. I set the armor down and followed it to a corner of the room. It pointed to the arm I had tossed there earlier, and dinged at me happily.

I looked between the dingbot and the arm for a few seconds before I realized what it was so happy about. I had told it to watch Rebecca and notify me if she moved while I wasn't around to see it. And from it's point of view that had happened. Never mind the fact that I had just carried in the vast majority of 'Rebecca', part of her was no not where she used to be. So she must have moved, and the dingbot found and notified me.

Part of me wanted to laugh. But I wasn't sure what I would find when I stopped. I didn't like the sound of the laughter in the back of my head.

I was a construct. Constructs don't have breakthroughs. We are all trained to recognize the signs of impending breakthrough and deal with the situation as quickly as possible, if the spark was alive at the end all the better. But that didn't stop alarm bells from ringing. And I knew well enough the only thing they could be ringing about was me.

I was a construct. Was. Before coming here.

Something in me had changed when I crossed over. I had been hiding from it, pretending that the only thing different was some organic 'pollution' in my system. But it went much farther than the impurities in my construction. Things had changed, fundamentally, if I was able to recognize the early warning signs of a breakthrough in myself.

I took a, totally unnecessary, deep breath and tried to calm down. Willingly going to that place was not a good idea. The last thing I wanted right now was to end up building a robotic army of toasters that shot hallucinogenic morning pastries. Any large scale action on my behalf, and breakthroughs were always large scale, would result in far more attention than I could afford right now. None of it good.

I needed to prioritize, set myself a list of manageable goals, a plan that didn't involve mind altering breakfast foods. I didn't even have to think about priority number one. Get home to Agatha. But as much as I wished, I didn't have the means get there now. I needed access to portal tech. Either something I built, by myself or with outside help. Or something I harvest from other supers. Both routes required a significant investment in time and resources.

Going the first route was preferable. While there were risks inherent in collaborating with other supers (mainly revolving around people being unable to look beyond stereotypes). But those risks were much more manageable than option number two, and easier to mitigate with sufficient precautions. I was half way though plans to transform the armor into a proper multi-ton hulking warbot of destruction before I realized those where not the precautions I needed. Bringing a large show of force to a meeting would not be good, I would be falling for the same stereotypes I was trying to avoid.

I need to bring something to a partnership besides the ability to blow something up. Support, intel, a safe haven, all those things we had taken for granted as part of a supergroup. I was part of the way there. The scattering of communication nodes and this building were a start. But I needed a proper base if I was going to come off as anything besides an opportunistic squatter.

A proper base at least had workbenches, communications, and a teleportation pad. All of which required power, something I was lacking at the moment. And while yes, there were power lines that ran up the mountain side to the building and the radio tower, nothing was flowing in those lines. I needed an off-the-grid power supply.

That was something I could latch onto and build. "Alright, I need parts" I said happily to myself. The dingbot at my feet made a ping and pointed to the object that was sitting in front of me.

Oh right, the arm. Well at least part of it was useful. I hummed a small tune from the Storm Kings opera as I carried the still dripping arm outside. When I pulled the limb from it's casing I couldn't quite suppress a flinch. It made a sound not unlike de-shelling a lobster. I heaved the useless flesh into the woods and turned around to go back inside. The happy little tune trailed off when I noticed the rather large and conspicuous pile of transformers that used to exist in the cell. I still hadn't cleaned those up. I glanced back and forth between the pile of junk in the yard and the armor in my hand a few times before the blood that was slowly dripping out of the armor made up my mind.

Clean up the armor first, then deal with the mess outside. After a few more seconds though I added 'clean up the mess at the house' to the list as well. I didn't know how long I would be disassembling and reconstructing the armor, but leaving the mess at the house for a few days was more of a risk than I was willing to take.

I used the towel from earlier to clean up the blood that had pooled in Rebecca's armor. I was glad that I no longer have a gag reflex, the bits dragged up from the bottom of the feet were closer to 'chunky salsa' than just blood.
-Terry
-----
"so listen up boy, or pornography starring your mother will be the second worst thing to happen to you today"
TF2: Spy

[Dragonflight]

[Saturday July 11, 2:00pm]
I threw myself to the side as my cousin pitched the volley ball at me. The game was keep-away, and I was limited to a range no bigger than a swimming pool.
Two of my cousins, their father, my uncle and occasionally my aunt would take turns fetching the ball and whipping it at me. Part of the exercise was that I couldn't stay still. Even when I wasn't being threatened, I had to keep in motion. Sometimes they threw a second or third ball at me, just to keep things lively, so I also had to keep my wits about me and stay aware of my surroundings.
The first day had been the hardest. Driving up to the house and explaining what had happened, using references to television entries and the now-famous Youtube videos. They'd picked up that I'd gotten actual superpowers playing a video game pretty quickly. When they learned of the catch, they'd taken it in stride. Well, my aunt's lips twitched, and I could see the mischief dancing in her eyes, so I knew I wasn't getting off that easily. Explaining it to the cousins had been easier. They'd thought it was cool, and made all sorts of off-color jokes that embarrassed the hell out of me, no matter which  form I was using.
Still, they also helped me work up a training regimen. My uncle's brother had another 50 acre lot adjoining his, and most of both of them were just used to farm trees. So they got together and had the boys set up the most difficult tracks through the woods they could think of. And since their 'boys' were a few years older than I was, farmed the trees half the time (which meant a lot of hours with chainsaws, axes and hoists), they were in much better shape starting out than I was.
Although I still took the win in my eyes when I casually picked up the old tractor they used to use when they ran a small farm on that land. Something Marvel Kara had that translated well. I could pick up something like four or five metric tonnes without breaking a sweat. Of course, I had to be well-braced. Something they don't cover in superhero comics. Superman pickes up a train, okay I can accept that. But if he's not standing on concrete, he'll get driven into the ground like a tent peg from all that weight focused on such a small surface area. I learned that the hard way the first time I'd tried to pick up something heavy.
Anyway, I vaulted over the dodgeball, the reflexes I'd learned from Fate coming back fast. I'd mentioned once before that Fate was my telepathic girlfriend's daughter, who'd been forced into the Hound Indoctrination program against her will by her own father, in an attempt to protect her. She'd been forced to watch her father die, and then endured unspeakable indignities, all without her mother being able to rescue her. So she had... issues. In fact, she'd been all set to kill her mother by the time we found her. It took a lot of work, and a shoulder to cry on from the most unusual source I'd ever imagined to help her reach something resembling normal. I'd just never guessed Drake had that much compassion in him.
On the other hand, Shin keeps telling me I underestimate Drake. He keeps surprising me, so maybe...
Anyway, Fate eventually reconciled to the idea of her mother being in a long-term relationship with another woman. But she was absolutely determined that if Cassandra's health was going to depend on a rookie, that rookie would be as well trained as she could manage. And since Fate had the awesome power of making lethally bad luck your constant companion for about a week or so, I did as she asked.
It was horrible, painful, and more than a little ego-bruising. But by the time she was finished with me, I could strip, clean and assemble about half a dozen small arms. I could survive in the back end of nowhere with nothing but my wits (and you'd better believe she found somewhere remote where electrical powers wouldn't mean as much.) And I could use any of a half dozen martial arts. Sure most of them emphasized evasion or blocking, but there was a little White Tiger thrown in, as well as the Hound program's own blend of fighting techniques. Nothing so fancy that had names or could be put on display in front of an audience. But it was the most survivable, unfair martial art Ahab had been able to create for his 'pets'.
I'd been relearning the old moves, burning them back into muscle memory in the evenings. During the mornings, I did a little Tai Chi, with emphasis on concentrating on the flow of power as it moved through me. They'd said I'd need that kind of training back in Paragon, learning how to manage the flow of electrical power so that it became instinct, instead of conscious thought. I also worked on that technique in the mornings around those power towers near my home. I didn't release the energy, just drew it up and let it dissipate. Repeating this several dozen times every day was all the workout I figured I'd need to draw more power later on.
In the process, I sort of lost touch with the rumor mill in the world around me. I had a place to train, and it was paying heavy dividends. I'd even practiced flying a bit more under my own power. Still only just hover, but that was fine. I wanted to master that one before I tried adding more thrust. It would suck to forget in a panic how hover worked after losing control. As for practicing hover? Easy. They had me doing laps over the swimming pool. If I fell in, I had to do more laps until I dried out.
In this fashion, training and keeping to myself, Saturday afternoon rolled around...
---
Those who fear the darkness have never seen what the light can do.

[Bob Schroeck]

Monday, July 6, 1:15 PM EDT
As she coasted through the top of her leap, Raye closed her eyes and savored the sensation of the sun on her skin, the wind in her long hair and the zero-gee stomach-drop that came with beginning the downward plunge. While the invulnerability was useful and the sword had always been just fucking cool, it was the jumping that she loved most -- the roller-coaster leap-and-drop never failed to cheer and excite her.
It helped, too, that she was in her favorite, original costume -- half medieval armor, half private school uniform, with its winged headdress and the big pointy epaulet-things that even Alistair didn't have a name (or an explanation) for. There was a familiar comfort in it that gave her the confidence that she could handle the latest life-altering weirdness that fate had thrown her way.
That she was also invulnerable to just about anything short of an artillery shell was also a comfort and a reassurance she needed.
She opened her eyes again and looked down at the landscape laid out below her.
To her left, a broad, slow river, deep blue with threads of muddy brown woven through it, lined with brilliant green trees and paralleled by a narrower thread of shining water that looked like a canal. On that side, she'd just passed a high-rise apartment building that seemed out of place among all the one- and two-story buildings that surrounded it.
To her right, a maze of squirming suburban streets was giving way to the regular gridwork of a slightly more urban area. The dividing line was a busy road, wider than a simple neighborhood street, that ran straight as an arrow for a mile more before curving around what looked like it might be a high school. It intersected almost directly beneath her with another arrow-straight street -- Easton Avenue, Bob murmured in the back of her head -- which she was doing her best to follow.
Immediately ahead of her, about where she anticipated she'd rebound, was a large park. Bands and stands of old, large trees bordered and defined great expanses of lawn, and ran alongside of a few narrow roads that wound their way through the green. One section held a baseball field and a gazebo, while a mansion stood at its furthest edge from her, overlooking the river.
Buccleuch Park and mansion, Bob footnoted in the back of her head. Your typical "rich guy leaves his estate to the city so everyone he'd locked out while alive can run around on his lawn after he dies" situation.
Raye giggled and looked further ahead. In the distance, maybe two or three leaps away, she spied the skyline of a modest city, with only a few buildings that one might call "skyscrapers". The most outstanding one -- though not the tallest -- was a structure of glass and purest white.
Her cape -- although she liked to think of it as a cloak, it was a cape, properly earned and bestowed -- fluttered as she hurtled toward the ground. Hm. Despite being a work day, there were more civilians in the park than she'd expected. She adjusted her trajectory in a manner that would have had a number of physicists working less than a mile away tearing out their hair had they seen it, and touched down lightly, knees bending and muscles coiling, a good ten feet from the nearest normal. Without a moment's hesitation she leapt again, leg muscles uncoiling explosively to propel her upwards into another graceful half-mile-long arc.
You know you're probably going to be all over the Internet before an hour's up, Bob chuckled.
Raye shrugged. "I'll cope. Between the news stories we've seen and your friends' posts in the Legendary forum, we know I'm far from the only 'immigrant' from Paragon in the last day." The rush of the wind past her mouth tore the words from her and threw them far away, but sound wasn't really needed for her to speak with him.
I'm just surprised you don't want to keep a low profile for a while, that's all.
"What good would it do? It's a safe bet that there are other players nearby, just from Rutgers by itself. Some of them are going to be villains. Better to announce that they're going to have some tough opposition before they try anything."
That's my girl. Straightforward, direct and proactive. Oh, and speaking of Rutgers, that's it below us now.
Raye looked down between her feet. The park had ended abruptly at the edge of another residential area, which itself gave way after only a couple blocks to an obvious college campus. At this end it was mostly modern-looking brick buildings, but further along she could see older structures of grey and dark red stone, in classic "collegiate gothic" style.
"Wow. You know, I was thinking of going to Rutgers when I graduated from AP Regional." Over the campus she reached the top of her arc and began the dizzying, thrilling plunge back down.
Inside she somehow sensed Bob was "nodding". Good choice. If it hadn't been a state university, Rutgers would probably have counted as part of the Ivy League.
Scanning ahead for her next landing/launching spot, she noticed something odd. "Hey, Bob? What're all those trucks doing in that parking lot, with the crowd around them?"
Oh, those are the grease trucks.
"Grease trucks?"
Another mental chuckle. Mobile food vendors that cater to the students. Surprisingly good food -- a couple times we've had friends over, the trucks've been the restaurant of choice for take-out dinner.
At the mention of food her stomach growled. Hungry, are you?
"Oh, yeah. We skipped lunch, remember?" Seized by a sudden impulse, Raye adjusted her trajectory and dumped some momentum. A moment later, she touched down lightly on top of one of the trucks.
Well, we were distracted. Did you remember to grab the cash I left out? You don't have any influence in this town yet to cadge free eats with.
"Well, duh, I'm not stupid, Bob."
Sorry.
"Don't worry about it." Realizing that dozens of students -- not just those around the trucks, but also another dozen or two at the nearby bus stop -- were staring at her, she hopped off the truck and nonchalantly tried to get in line, only to have everyone ahead of her back away. A few had their cellphones up and were obviously taking photos or video of her.
She blinked. That was an unusual reaction. Usually civilians didn't make much of a fuss over heroes.
In Paragon, maybe. You're in my world, though, where people aren't used to glowing girls with blazing golden stars for eyes dropping out of the sky.
"Oh." Raye bit her lip as she considered that, trying to imagine how she'd react if she'd never seen a super before. She looked up at the staring bystanders. "Um. I just want a sandwich, I don't want to cut in line."
No one moved back in line. Cringing a little, Raye glanced around at the wide eyes and staring faces, before hesitantly stepping up to the window of a truck proudly labelled "Mr. C's" in bright red on silver. "What can I get y... holy crap."
Raye winced. "Um, can I have a..." She glanced at the menu board affixed next to the window in the side of the truck.
The Fat Boy's good. A whole lunch in a sandwich, except for the drink.
She nodded. "...a Fat Boy and a can of Coke."
The proprietor of the truck stared at her for a couple seconds, then shook himself. "Fat Boy and Coke. Right." He burst into activity at the grill and fry bins that lined one entire side of the truck, even though he kept glancing over his shoulder at her.
Behind her, a sussuration of voices too low to distinguish individually flowed through the crowd. Raye tried her best to ignore it, but having so many people actually paying attention to her was making her a little nervous.
Finally, the proprietor set a brown paper bag and a familiar aluminum can before her. "That'll be $8.50."
Raye raised her arm and pressed the button on her vambrace that ejected Bob's money from where she'd stored it in her salvage space. Thumbing the bills, she located a ten, pulled it out, and passed it through the window. "Thanks!" she said with all the perkiness and bright smile she could manage under the circumstances. She dumped the change in the jar that had a ragged multicolor "TIPS" sign taped to it, took her lunch, and turned to go.
She got maybe eight feet away before the proprietor called out, "Miss! Um, Miss?"
She turned back, curious.
"Who are you?" he asked.
For the first time since touching down, Raye managed a broad, genuine smile. "I'm Magical Princess Evangelia, defender of Beauty, Love and Justice!" She threw him a boy scout-style salute, held it for a beat, then turned and launched herself into the air once more.

---

"When you said a whole lunch on a sandwich, I didn't think you meant literally!" Raye growled as she studied what was left of her Fat Boy. "Who puts french fries and mozzarella sticks in a sandwich?"
The Rutgers grease trucks, that's who.
"And ketchup, and marinara, and... geeze! I'm going to have to transform to get these stains out of my costume, you know?"
Big deal. Seven words and 30 seconds. I ache for you.
Raye just blew a raspberry before taking another bite of the horribly mutated cheesesteak she'd been duped into buying. She held it up and examined it again. Mutant, yeah. "This thing is the Aberrant Eremite of sandwiches," she declared. "The Rikti are mutating sandwiches to turn them into devastating shock troops that will invade restaurants all over the city."
There was a long silence inside her head.
Finally Bob said, And I thought I could be silly.
Raye giggled.
So, how do you like the view?
She drew a deep breath. "It's pretty, the river and the bridge and the parks and, well, everything. I'm not quite used to so many cars, but yeah." She was sitting crosslegged at the edge of the roof of the white tower she'd spotted earlier. The Johnson & Johnson corporate headquarters, Bob had said.
And the world in general?
Raye considered that for a while. "I'm going to have to get used to a world that needs to get used to me. There are so many heroes in Paragon City that we're almost anonymous, you know? The folks on the street don't even really look up most of the time when you go through. Oh, one of them might wave or say hi once in a while, and you'll occasionally hear a couple of them talking about you, but... we don't surprise anyone." She reached for her Coke and took a swig. "Or scare them."
They need to get used to the idea of you. It'll come.
Taking a final bite of her sandwich, she chewed slowly while thinking about that. Swallowing, she said, "I hope you're right. 'Cause them being afraid is real freaky."
You'll just have to show them that you mean them no harm.
She nodded to herself. "You know, you're almost as good at the advising thing as Alistair," she said as she crumpled up the wrapping and napkins from her lunch and wadded them up in the brown paper bag. Then she swallowed the last mouthful of Coke and stood, crushing the can absently in one hand and adding it to the bag.
That's high praise, considering I don't have a teenaged daughter to have practiced on.
"Well, you've got one now," Raye grinned.
No, I have a niece, Niece.
"Details, details." Pushing the bag into her salvage space, Raye stepped forward again until she stood on the very edge of the roof. With a flourish she summoned her sword, holding it up and studying it. It was the third sword she'd had in her career as a hero, the weirdly futuro-Roman weapon she'd taken off the battered body of Nictus-Romulus: steel blued to a hue that matched her costume, with gold filigree and decorations running the length of the blade.
She brandished it once, then twice, then held it out so that it pointed southeast, downstream along the river toward the ocean. "I am Magical Princess Evangelia," she declared, and magic entered her voice to send it echoing across the city. She swept the sword sideways to encompass all of New Brunswick, ending with it pointed up the river to the northwest. "And I declare this city under my protection!"
When her voice finished reverberating off the buildings below her and faded into the normal noises of the day's activity, Raye smiled to herself. "Well, you think that'll do it?"
I think it's a good start, Bob replied.
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.

[Terrenceknight]

You know, sometimes a funny quirk in game..turns out to be a real pain in the ass when your actualy stuck with said quirk.

These thoughts seem to come to my mind on a regular basis since the change, and once more cross my mind as I hike along the shoulder of a road, not at all sure
of where I am at the moment "Give myself the Hibiki curse I say..it's fun to play up I say..well isn't this comeing to bite me in the ass, as I
currently don't have the slightest clue where the HELL I AM!" One thing I am -very- greatful for is the fact I retained my subspace pocket along with
all the goodies stored inside of it, so at the least I have clothes to wear and food to eat, Includeing the tasty, ever convenient, ever replenishing Hamburger
that I had gotten oh so long ago from some genie in paragon "Figures..He...err I..whatever..dammit..*grumble* would ask for food when given a chance to
have a limited wish.." I mutter adjusting my sunglasses as I spot the outlines of a city off in the distance.

"OH thank god..now maybe I can find out where the hell I am..cause I really don't think I'm in alberta anymore..god...its like i'm teleporting
without realizing it, which..scares me yet doesn't surprise me given thats kind of how I played out my..HIS..sense of direction over long distances" I
ramble to myself as another loud motorcycle passes by '..Hate thoes so much.." I stop for a moment, debateing on just jumping the rest of the way to
the city, but quickly dismissed that thought as I didn't really care to draw attention to myself like others who may be playing with their powers being
very overt about it..good for them, they can have the attention, I don't want it but pause my absent complaining to come to realize something finaly

"Wait...now that I think about it..I havent' seen a single canadian licence plate since I got outta that damn woodland..but lots of liscence plates I
don't recognize..yet the average person i've seen driveing looked caucasian...and their driving on the right side of the road....maybe I'm in the
states somewheres? But that can't be right can it?! I don't -think- i've crossed any oceans as of late..but dammit..sooo far from home now.."

[firvulag]

[Friday July 10th]
So after my first little trip to school I'd come home, and realized, over a pint of Ben and Jerry's just how I was acting.  I dug out an old, crappy EoE promotional poster, sliced away everything but the third child, and stuck it to the wall opposite the foot of my bed over the words "What are you, Stupid?"
I'd also gotten over my nervousness and contacted my family.  Everything hitting the news over the week had made it a bit easier to convince them.  Though I think my grandmother was having a tough time of it.
Friday, however, was when things started to get interesting.
I was dodging around a couple of girls who'd decided to hold a conversation in the middle of the door leading into the VSIM building when something slammed into my head, knocking me out of the shroud of my Hide ability and sending me tumbling across the parking lot.  I'd found that 'hiding' took a bit of concentration, and if I didn't focus on it I started to fade back in to sight.  Apparently I'd become visible enough that someone could see me.
The sudden pain in my jaw, and the scrapes I suffered faded almost as soon as I felt them, and I dredged up enough of Alicia's Rogue Isles trained instincts to hit the costume change button on my watch as I rolled to my feet.
I stood, my trench coat whipping about my legs, and my fedora cocked at a jaunty angle.  The two girls were staring at me and the fellow who'd hit me in shock.  Though I like to think it was mostly at him.  There's a school of thought that says if your tie isn't garish and loud enough to make a person's eyes bleed at twenty paces, you're not doing it right, and this... person, seemed to be a disciple.  It might also have been the tight spandex, which was a whole set of reactions I really didn't want to consider at that point.
My assailant stood, posing dramatically, in all his spandex and neon glory.  His fists were wreathed in pink light, and he was talking.  I made the mistake of listening and felt my IQ drop by at least one sigma.
"Foul villain, your nefarious plan to sabotage these fine students's educations will..."
At which point I managed to stop listening again.  I've never been a fan of the Kuno Tatewaki school of heroic declarations, and I doubt I ever will be.  I waited until he seemed to come to some point or another and spoke up.
"Three things I'd like make clear before this goes any further, Spanky." I said.  "One, you don't have any police powers in the here and now, so you're just a tackily dressed nut about to commit assault and battery.  Two, even if you had police powers, I haven't done anything, and you can't prove that I have.  Not with out planting evidence anyway.  And three..."
Which is when I reached out to that weird indescribable thing that is Naptha's powers and erased my presence from his mind.  I have to admit I did do the hand wave thing, but I am a geek, so it doesn't bother me that much.
I spent an entirely too long moment watching him blink stupidly, trying to remember why he was there, and then leapt over his head.  I bounced off of one wall of the building and landed on the roof.  A quick glance down showed my erstwhile playmate was still standing there looking stupid, so I dropped off the far side and made for the door on the first floor.
This was going to be problem, I could tell.  I hoped he hadn't gotten a good look at my face, but even a brief one could be trouble.  My new looks were kind of distinctive.
A quick look around confirmed I was alone in the tiny courtyard, and I faded back into reality, shifting out of the my costume as I did so.  I was going to have to move that shopping trip up so I could get another sports bra quickly.  I'd taken to wearing the one from my costume under my civvies, and, well, with out it the leather catsuit kind of chafed.

[Foxboy]

[This is early stage draft. I'm banging my head against the convo between Inari and L-Sty.]

Monday,
July 6, 2009, 7:20 pm EDT--
Fox/Misty at Work, part 2

I
was beginning to panic, when the magatama around my neck
flashed cold, and an amused voice echoed in my head.

::
Visualize the form you're putting forth in your genjutsu,
Kasumi-chan, :: the voice said, :: and I'll talk you through a
useful technique, ne? ::

“Inari?”
I whispered. I blinked and readied myself to follow her instructions.

::
Very good! Now, the following hand seals: Rat, Hare, Ram, Tiger!
Execute! ::

I
channeled the chakra and felt a familiar weight settle upon me, and
the slight itch at my chin I hadn't felt since the Event. My
recently acquired ninja skills told me that this was a henge,
but it felt different.

::
Hmm. Not quite perfect, but you seem to have the basics, ::
Inari said.

With
the henge letting me match my identification, it was a simple matter
to avoid suspicion and take care of my status as a witness to the
attempted robbery. The henge was a little draining, but I was able to
finish my shift with little difficulty.

Tuesday,
July 7, 2009, 11:07 am EDT-- Heads, I Win; Tails You Lose

Two
days in, and I was beginning to adjust to being Misty, and more
importantly, so were my folks. Admittedly, my mother had almost not
recognized me when I came to pick her up from dialysis, but I'd
gotten her home with no trouble. With her safely settled and my dad
champing at the bit on his latest college course assignment, I was
going to take a nature walk.

:: So
what are we going to do today, Kasumi-chan? :: Inari asked from
the magatama.

I
stepped into the woods by the apartment complex dumpsters and began
to follow the trails left by years of kids riding BMX and mountain
bikes between the birch and maple trees. “I'm going to find
someplace that I can let loose with my techniques without drawing
unwanted attention. And, just maybe, we can find one of your cousins
who might let you 'shack up,' as it were.”

::
Why go to all the trouble? I'm sure you could find me someone
here, like that blonde in the bikini by the pool? ::

“Chiyuki-san,”
I said, pinching the bridge of my nose, “I thought you didn't like
unwilling hosts.”

I got
the impression of a foxy grin. :: I like having opposable thumbs
more. ::

I
snorted in amusement and sat under the emerald canopy by a granite
boulder. “I'm actually surprised you didn't just take me over while
I slept and eat all the red beans and rice in the complex.”

:: I
couldn't. My promise to your clan is still in effect until the
equinox. ::

I
swallowed nervously. “You tried, then?”

:: Of
course I did! :: I got the impression of an “are you stupid?”
glare. :: I thought perhaps if the 'Hanover' part didn't work in
my favor, the 'Goodhue' part would. ::
''We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat
them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary.''

-- James Nicoll

[Dragonflight]

[Saturday July 11, 2pm]
Saturday afternoon was more difficult. I'd spent most of the week practicing stuff Paragon-Kara did. Combat skills, hovering, and working with simple lightning bolts. Nothing fancy, just the low-power stuff anyone in Atlas with a couple of batteries and a pair of charged gloves could pull off. I'd been reteaching myself Fate's brand of martial art, trying to get what was in my head programmed into my muscles, so I wouldn't have to think about it when I needed it. But that afternoon was a different ball game. Literally.
Marvel-Kara had a few extra options my alternate third didn't. The other half of my hero heritage could not only manifest electricity, but could Stunt kinetic energy. Stunting was developed in the game mechanic as a way of growing the character. See in the old Marvel rules, you never grew your character's stats or baseline powers. You could never afford it. So instead you found ways to make your power pull off "stunts" based on the power. That was how you grew the character. A good similarity in Paragon was that I was an electrical zapper with some basic skill. The other powers, like ball lightning, tesla cage and so on... those were stunts. They were finding ways to use raw electricity that changed how the power behaved in some way. Well my alternate source had a kind of "omni" energy power that was based around electricity. But she could stunt kinetic energy if she wanted to. And seeing as how that meant I could do body-hugging forcefields, I really, really wanted to.
How did I do this? Well, basically I had the cousins start throwing balls at me. My objective was to find whatever mental trigger it took to put up a forcefield. I'd know I succeeded when I stopped feeling the impacts.
We tried several times before calling a halt. Roughly two hours had gone by, I hadn't managed anything that I could detect, and I was sore all over from impacts. I gingerly sat down at the picnic table and buried my face in my hands.
"This isn't working," I mumbled.
"I noticed that," my aunt said, sitting down beside me. "Know what I think? I think you're thinking too hard." She grinned as she said it. "I think all you need to do is know it will be there, and it will."
I looked over at her, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "If that was the case, I wouldn't fall in the pool so often."
She chuckled and straightened my hair. A part of me noted that her doing that still creeped me out a little. "That's because you don't really believe yet. That you can do all these things for a reason."
And that was the other reason I'd been concerned about telling them. They're very powerfully religious. They accepted easily enough, much to my surprise. But they're not above trying to drive their viewpoint home when they get the chance.
"That aside," I began, "how am I supposed to believe it won't hit me when I see it coming at me?"
She tapped my nose with her finger. "And that's why they're hitting you." She picked up what she'd been working on and bustled off. "We're having spaghetti tonight. Do you like meatballs?"
I laughed and answered while going over what she'd been saying. I walked over to the nearby treeline and just started walking along. I pulled a few mental tricks I'd been taught - both by Fate and my own martial arts training many moons ago, and calmed my mind. I considered that I had an invulnerable field around me, and couldn't feel pain. It just was. I kept walking, thinking it over, focusing on my breathing, and just feeling the breeze toss a few errant locks of hair around.
Eventually, I reached the corner, where the line of trees ran across the back of the area they'd cleared for farming, a long time ago. I didn't think it through, and I didn't alter my thoughts. I just struck the tree.
No pain.
The whole tree shivered. I could benchpress a tractor. Not a tiny thing you rode around your house doing the lawn with, but an eight foot high John Deere farming tractor. I'd also learned a lesson about action and reaction trying it, but I think I covered that elsewhere. So my punch wasn't inconsiderable. Still keeping myself in that zoned-out state, I walked into the woods and found a large rock. Punched it.
Still no pain.
Considering the fact that I had an invulnerable field around me, I paused, set myself, and smashed it as hard as I could.
The rock split with an atrociously loud crack. I didn't feel a thing. And a quick look showed no blood or broken bones either.
Later that day, I still got pelted by volleyballs. I had to work on keeping it up while being distracted. But I knew it was possible. I could actually do this.
Now I just had to master flying.
---
Those who fear the darkness have never seen what the light can do.

[Bob Schroeck]

Monday, July 6, 4:41 PM EDT
Dressed in borrowed shorts and t-shirt, Raye Langley stood barefoot in ankle-high grass, eyes closed, her hands tight around the hilt of her weapon. In her mind's eye she formed the images of her opposition and sent them circling around their target -- her.
When the first one lunged for her, she slipped the blow and brought up her blade in a strike that lifted him from his feet and sent him flying across the yard. Before she could congratulate herself on the hit, though, she had to deal with the one behind her. with a flick of her wrist she turned the momentum of that first hit, diverting it to swing the sword in a complete circle about her as she leapt nearly head-high.
In her visualization, the tip of her blade sliced across his body, cleaving though his clothing to reveal bare flesh highlit by a line of bright, welling blood. Almost absently she noted that she had barely marked her opponent, instead of disemboweling as she'd intended. She took advantage of his moment of shock to spin on her heel, blade extended in a decapitation strike that took his heead and ended the fight.
Whoa, Bob declared in the back of her head. I don't even have an inner ear right now, and that left me dizzy.
Raye stopped moving almost instantly and evaluated her condition. Breathing, normal. Heartbeat, slow and steady. Sweat, none.
Darn.
Bob must have felt her disappointment, because he murmured, You've got to be kidding, Raye. That was amazing!
She opened her eyes to see Alistair perched in a wooden chair, one of four that surrounded the picnic table which dominated the patio behind the Schroecks' home. He was nodding approvingly. "Very good, Raye. It is hard to see any way in which you could improve."
Opus there is right. Trust your sensei, Raye.
Raye grunted an acknowledgment to both, but she knew better. This round of shadow-fighting hadn't been anything close to a test of her abilities. She'd have to imagine a larger mob of opponents next time. Two Council Leonis were hardly a workout for her, and she needed a good workout if she were to stay in proper fighting trim for the inevitable clashes with the Virtue-born villains she knew had to be out there.
At least she had a decent practice weapon. She looked down at the wooden broadsword she held and again admired the deep reds and browns of its stained and polished surface. Bob had offered its use as soon as Raye had pointed out that practicing swordsmanship in the yard with any of her usual blades would probably alarm the neighbors. She just had had to dig it out from the far reaches of the somewhat cluttered library -- actually a converted bedroom with paneled walls and faux-beams on the ceiling, filled with bookcases and the desk on which the Schroecks' desktop PC rested.
Which reminded her... she wanted to ask Bob about seeing what "City of Heroes" actually looked like.
She was startled out of her musings by a burst of unexpected applause. Blinking, she looked up to spot a girl of about her own age leaning on the chainlink fence that separated the left front corner of the back yard from the front yard. She was a little thinner than Raye, her blonde hair was far closer to an ash shade than Raye's own almost metallic gold, and at her feet was a rather relaxed-looking German Shepherd, whose leather leash she had looped around one arm as she clapped. "That was really cool -- you looked like you actually know how to fight with a sword!" she called out.
That's the girl who lives across the street, Bob offered helpfully. Can't remember her name, sorry. Peg and I don't really get much chance to socialize with our neighbors because of our work schedules.
"I do," Raye called back as she passed under the cedar tree which shaded that corner of the yard. "I started learning how to use a sword a couple years ago." As she came up to the fence she tilted her head and studied the other girl. "Have you been watching long?"
"Nah, just for that last bit. I spotted you while walking Geezer here." She turned slightly and waved vaguely behind her, and Raye immediately understood. There was a clear line-of-sight through the corner of the yard to the street and beyond to the intersection where it T'ed with another. Anyone on several hundred feet worth of sidewalk would have been able to see her. "I hope you don't mind that I came into your yard to watch."
Taking her cue from Bob's wordless dismissal of the girl's trespass as unimportant, Raye chuckled. "It's not really my yard, but I don't think my Uncle Bob would really care if he knew." She held out a hand. "Raye Langley. Hi."
"Hi! Dani Spicoli." She shook Raye's hand, eliciting a growl from the dog, who found his head tugged about by the leash that was still wrapped around her arm. "Shush, Geezer! So... you here for the summer, or have you, like, moved in permanently?"
Raye panicked momentarily, completely uncertain how to answer that. "Um... for at least part of the summer. Might change, though, kinda depends on how things turn out."
Dani nodded knowingly. "Parents on the splits, and wanted you somewhere out of the way while they work it out. Seen it a couple times."
Raye opened her mouth to contest Dani's assumptions, then snapped it shut again. "Yeah," she said. "Something like that." She grimaced a moment, then put on a smile that was only slightly strained. "So, what about you? Live around here, visitor, or what?"
With a toss of her head toward the two-story white house directly behind her, Dani said, "I live right there. That's how I knew you were new to the neighborhood. Your uncle and aunt don't really talk to anyone much, but I'm pretty sure I would have noticed a girl my own age across the street before now." She laughed. "Not to mention one swinging a sword."
Geezer started growling an instant before Alistair's voice came from just behind her. "Perhaps we should be more circumspect about your practice from now on, Raye," he said before barking "Silence, mutt!" at the German Shepherd.
"Mm," Raye grunted affirmatively, hoping that both Dani and Alistair would take it as her response to them. She added a smile, then asked, "So, what do you do for fun around here?"
Dani grimaced. "Here, in the neighborhood? Almost nothing. Closest movie theatre is like ten miles away. The closest mall is even farther." She shrugged. "Not a big issue if you can drive. And have a car. Geezer! Shut up!" She yanked -- gently -- on the growling dog's leash.
"And do you?" Raye asked as Alistair continued to spit imprecations at the dog.
"Oh, I have my my license, and my folks are cool," Dani stated matter-of-factly.
I definitely need a mall run, Raye thought. Three costumes, one set of civvies, and my cheerleading uniform aren't going to cut it. "Do you think..." she began.
"Oh, my. So that's why I was reassigned," Alistair suddenly said, and Raye swallowed the rest of her sentence in a fit of coughing. She took advantage of the moment by turning away from Dani and taking a look at Alistair as she covered her mouth and got control over her breathing again.
Alistair was staring at Dani. And Dani, Raye realized, was shooting quick, puzzled glances at Alistair's general location. She recognized that confused, slightly squinty look -- it was the same one some of the sensitives who couldn't quite see Alistair got when he was around them.
I'm not sure I like the sound of this, Bob commented.
You and me both, she thought back at him.
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.

[Valles]

The City of Elkins, all seven thousand odd people of it, sprawls around a bend in the Tygart River, one of the many small rivers that have carved narrow floodplains through the high country of the Appalachians. Originally the town was called Leadsville - pronounced like 'to lead to water' - until, a bit before the turn of the twentieth century, one Senator Stephen B Elkins (D-WV) moved his coal company and rail operations into the area and essentially took over. The Tygart Valley, while fairly roomy by the standards of eastern West Virginia, is still small enough that even a fairly small town will find itself running out of room and spreading up the sides of the surrounding hills.

From where I parked my car on the street, I could look to the left, through the trees, and see the entire town. The house I'd lived in half my life loomed on the bank to the other side. Two steps from the street to the sidewalk, five through the retaining wall to the level of the yard, then another, single step for the slope of the yard and a dozen to climb up to the porch and the front door. The door itself, as usual for the summer, was open, with the screen door closed to keep the bugs out.

I took a deep breath and stepped inside, moving quietly through the entry foyer with its stairway to the second floor, then left through the square, mostly-for-company living room and back from there into the smaller room with its couch and two armchairs facing the television.

I was just about right on time, and I'd emailed that I was coming, so, as expected, Mom and Dad were waiting for me. Less expected was the fact that my sister was there, too, perched on the couch. None of them noticed me right away - ninja stealth, of course, they were civilians - so I had to speak. "Hey," I said - and waited.

What they saw when they looked up was a young woman, somewhere in the high-school-to-co-ed bracket, in a white t-shirt - silkscreened 'Heart Breaker', with appropriate graphic, close across the bosom and too lose everywhere else, like any other top bought off the rack - and better fitting jeans, with Sachie's boots and armored trenchcoat, enormously tall and spectacularly built in both the muscular and other senses of the phrase, with very straight silver-white hair cut to frame her lovely face and dark indigo eyes you could fall into.

There had been a couple moments involving mirrors where I'd felt like I had.

My father looked up, round, jowled face startled. "Who are y-"

He stopped, shocked. "Nathan?"

I grinned, the same sheepish expression that - I hoped - would be recognizable as his son's. "Yeah."

The first few minutes were... awkward, though I perched in what had been Nathan's preferred spot - on the lip of the stone mantleplace, where it projected out above the level of the floor of the older front section of the house. The mannerisms were different, though - I crossed my legs at the knee, now, rather than propping one ankle on the other knee, and, as my sister pointed out, I fidgited a lot less. Eventually, though, I'd managed to reassure them that the person they remembered was still present, however different-looking.

For the record, I didn't use any genjutsu or other 'active' technique to do that, nor do I feel any particular compunction about the more passive manipulations of tone and posture, guilt-trip and affection, that I did employ. Making sure they were safe and happy couldn't be done if their brother and son disspeared into the blue, and was too important to be left to random chance and misunderstanding.

When the conversation eventually turned to my own plans for how to deal with these changes I'd gone through, I admitted my intention to essentially lay low until the early shocks of this 'Virtue Event' had passed and evened out, impersonating my original face until I was sure it was safe to be publicly 'known'.

It took a demonstration of the transformation technique for them to believe I could pull it off, of course.
===========

===============================================
"V, did you do something foolish?"
"Yes, and it was glorious."

[Foxboy]

Tuesday, July 7, 2009, noon EDT -- Misty's Training Glen
:: Of course I did! :: I got the impression of an "are you stupid?" glare.
:: I thought perhaps if the 'Hanover' part didn't work in my favor, the 'Goodhue' part would. ::
I shook off a vague feeling of deja vu and began looking about for animal tracks, using my "lightfoot" flight techniques so that I didn't disturb the traces or obliterate them with my Arachnos Chuck Taylor knock-offs. About half an hour of searching later, I found fox tracks from what appeared to be a vixen and her kit, and the real gem of the search, a bit of fox fur. I carefully reached to pick it up.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009, noon EDT -- Misty's Training Glen
:: Of course I did! :: I got the impression of an "are you stupid?" glare.
:: I thought perhaps if the 'Hanover' part didn't work in my favor, the 'Goodhue' part would. ::
I
shook off a vague feeling of deja vu and began looking about for
animal tracks, using my "lightfoot" flight techniques so that I didn't
disturb the traces or obliterate them with my Arachnos Chuck Taylor
knock-offs. About fifteen minutes of searching later,
I found fox tracks from what appeared to be a vixen and her kit, and
the real gem of the search, a bit of fox fur. I carefully reached to
pick it up.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009, noon EDT -- Misty's Training Glen
:: Of course I did! :: I got the impression of an "are you stupid?" glare.
:: Not that it did me any good. ::
I
shook off a vague feeling of deja vu and began looking about for
animal tracks, using my "lightfoot" flight techniques so that I didn't
disturb the traces or obliterate them with my Arachnos Chuck Taylor
knock-offs. About ten minutes of searching later,
I found fox tracks from what appeared to be a vixen and her kit, and
the real gem of the search, a bit of fox fur. I carefully reached to
pick it up.
"Hmm," I said, rubbing it between my fingers. "Nice russet tone. Classic Vulpes vulpes fulva. I know you'd prefer Vulpes vulpes japonica, Chiyuki-san, but this is what we have available." I got a mental impression of a resigned snort. "Your tails will be prettier, you know." The impression shifted to a bit of vain acceptance. Nice, that. "So glad you approve, Inari-hime."
I took a toe of my sneaker and traced a quick circle in a small clearing and traced a Star of David within it, placing a bit of the fur at each point. I pulled the magatama off over my head and placed it in the center, being careful not to disturb the lines. I centered myself and began a quick paternoster asking for either permission or forgiveness for what I was about to attempt. Besides, I'd need the protection of the Big Guy if I managed to succeed and not just look silly, but somehow pissed off the entity I was going to try to talk to. Amateur magick (with a "k," it's the "real deal," as it were) was risky, after all.
I pulled out an aromatic cigar from the last time my brother had stopped by and placed it in amongst some stones set up as a fire ring. The summer so far had been fairly wet, so I thought I could handle it if things went wrong after I used my lightning techniques to light it. The circle prepared, I began to "chant."
"Brother Wokwses, please forgive me if I unwittingly offend you, and please accept this offering of tobacco. I seek to aid your cousin, trapped within this bead..." I spent the next few minutes offering my bargain and laying out what I hoped to accomplish. As I finished, I noticed that the smoke from the cigar had gathered together, and the butt was entirely ash. which swirled up into the cloud of smoke, leaving nothing in the fire circle but a smoky silhouette of a fox, which nodded at me and turned to the magatama. Wokwses, or his avatar, picked up the jade bead in its mouth by the thong, stepped from the circle, looked at me over its shoulder, and began to walk into the woods.
I followed the local fox spirit, thankful that he seemed benign and not as ready to tear me to pieces as other entities that could ignore a mystic circle like that would have been. We passed along a game trail, and I paused as we seemed to be nearing a road. I drew closer to the wispy fox-cloud and saw that he was at the side of the road, where a fox kit cowered next to the remains of what I took to be its mother, which had been hit by a car.
Wokwses dropped the magatama, nudged the kit, which seemed to fall asleep, and then went to nudge the corpse. A silver mist rose from it and in turn nudged the kit in one last maternal gesture, before it bounded into the woods and disappeared. Wokwses stood by the sleeping kit and looked at me and then the magatama.
Taking my cue, I placed the thong over the kit's head. Wokwses nodded and then seemed to "talk" at both the kit and the bead holding. He seemed to stiffen for a moment and made a swipe at the jewel, which disintegrated into a shower of motes, which flowed and settled against the kit's fur. I got an impression of a dominance display from the smoky fox towards what I took to be Inari, before the smoke began to dissipate.
I sat on my heels, and waited for Inari to wake up. Atter all, the kit's tails were beginning to split out.
''We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat
them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary.''

-- James Nicoll

[Sweno]

(July 12th 11am)

I was used to parts on demand, anything I needed within a few hours. In the Isles it was merely a question of price: legal, illegal, common, uncommon, it didn't matter. There were people willing to fetch things for the proper compensation. Back home was even better, the people of Mechanicsburg were happy to find this, or fetch that. As long as it made the town stronger or kept Agatha happy, it got done.

Here, I had neither the minions, nor the connections. So I kept having to put the construction on hold while I went out and fetched something myself. In hindsight this is a good thing. It kept the generator design simple and minimalistic. But there were some things that I couldn't fabricate or order from amazon (at least not without breaking the bank).

A high quality flywheel was one of those things, and a generator to drive it was another.

I had spent the previous two nights raiding the local Pick-n-Pull for used car parts. It felt strange doing a potentially hostile parts acquisition for such basic things, but I couldn't afford them new, and walking in to buy them used wasn't an option. Finding the Prius had been a stroke a serendipity, even if the back half was gutted and caved in.

---

The hybrid looked like it had been rear-ended by a much bigger, and sturdier, vehicle at decent speed. The entire back half of the car wasn't even worth looking at. Which was sad, because they had some high quality batteries in there. The engine compartment was perfectly fine though, which made a small part of me go 'squee!' and dance in happy circles in the back of my mind. A quick glance inside the cabin while I was popping the hood confirmed that all the interior electronics had long since been scavenged. Those would have been nice, but they were small change compared to what, I hoped, was in the engine compartment. I couldn't quite suppress the spring in my step as scampered to the front of the vehicle and looked under the hood.

"Score!" I said quietly to myself while gazing at most of the solution to my energy needs. A fully developed hybrid electric engine, including a motor-generator and an integrated flywheel. Well not all of it, it looked like someone had pulled the oil tank and a few hoses. But that was hardly an issue considering what was still there. A week ago it would have taken me four hours, a toolbox, and a winch to take apart the engine of a car like this. Now it took me slightly less than an hour with just my hands. It is times like these when trading in sensitive and delicate flesh for metal and ceramics has it upsides. Being able to loosen engine bolts by twisting my wrist made short work of it.

As parts came off I stuffed them into my pocketspace. I would never have been able to fit a traditional car engine block inside, at least not whole. But the much smaller 1.5 liter engine wasn't a problem, especially since the physical motor, the flywheel assembly, and the electronic control system were separate units. Once the engine compartment was gutted I closed the hood and ported inside the small building onsite.

Part of me was ranting that I should just take the parts and leave, that this was an unnecessary risk. But between the clothing I had on, the dim lighting inside, and my stealth, any cameras that were here wouldn't get a clear enough picture of me. I also doubted they would report the break-in, it's not every day someone breaks in to leave cash behind.

Paying 20% over the asking price might have been a little much, but I had an abundance of cash and little way to spend it. Besides I might want to go back there some time, and maintaining a good relationship (or at least establishing a pattern of bribes) always made things easier.

---

As much as I would have liked to get straight into construction I knew there were appearances to keep up. And until I had an alternate stream of income I wasn't about to abandon the current one. So when monday rolled around I sequestered myself in the houses attic. Plugged into the wall and leaching wifi from next door wasn't quite the work environment I was used to, but it would have to do. I figured that I could 'work from home' for a week or two before serious questions about my health were raised. And I fully intended to be up and running (if not self sufficient) by that time.

My monomaniac tendencies where my biggest enemy at this point, and limiting the amount of time I had to work on my 'projects' was the simplest way I knew of to do damage control.

Besides, with my newfound wealth (admittedly a little hard to spend wealth, but wealth non the less) I could afford to spend a little more freely. I was expecting some more shipments from amazon over the next few days. If I had to be cooped up in the house all day waiting for packages to arrive, I might as well put that time to good use, rather than obsess about things I couldn't change.

------

well it's not a whole lot, but it's something, and it lays some needed foundation in place. I would hate to see this iteration of Viior die the same lingering death it's predecessor did.
-Terry
-----
"so listen up boy, or pornography starring your mother will be the second worst thing to happen to you today"
TF2: Spy

[Terrenceknight]

A resigned sigh escaped my lips as I came to a unsurpriseing..yet unsettling conclusion as my eyes settle upon the city limits sign "..You know what....I
can't be bothered to remember the name of this place.." I growled to myself somewhat bitterly "Odds are with the curse I now am afflicted with it
doesn't matter..doubt I'll be staying long" I trail off muttering as i made my way further into town looking to find an internet cafe in hopes of
posting something on the legendary forums and check my email. "Not like I actualy get email from people for the most part..just spam, still I gotta humor
myself with the thought of getting mail" With a shake of my head I slap my cheeks "I need to cheer up..being all down like this isn't really
fitting, I know He..err my otherself? wouldn't approve and if I'm going to be filling his shoes..then I need to get ahold of myself" A feeling of
approval? coursed through me as I pulled myself together *What was that..did some of his personality make it through as well?, I have his body and memories and
I am feeling more mentaly coherent than usual..*

My internal monologue was cut off as I nearly passed up a cafe, glanceing in through the window I spotted a few unused terminals then came to a unpleasent
realization "..shit..don't have any american money on me..hell don't have any money on me right now.." My expression darkened considerably
for a moment followed by a snap of my fingers "Public librairy..if i can find one of thoes..they should have a computer I can use for a little while to do
what I need to" Grinning at this realization I moved further into town in hopes of finding a librairy and found myself supressing the urge to hop ontop of
a building to get a better vantage point..it was hard admittedly..I had always had fantasies about becomeing Terrence, but now that..has come to pass for
whatever reason I find myself -really- wanting to put my new body through its paces to feel out its limits myself yet the last thing I wanted was attention.

"The Irony of this situation doesn't escape me.." I mutter with an amused grin *All these abilities and strength He had aquired in paragon..he
had been quite a force to be reconed with..and what scares me is since i'm not in paragon..and I don't think Gate is here..I think..no I can feel my
body..getting reaquainted and adjusting to all of its former power suddenly being available ontop of what it had gained from scratch in paragon* I ponder with
a small frown "..I need to keep a low profile..I don't know who's all changed..or how the public will react, but one thing I do know.."

"I want to find and meet up with others from our forums.." *..of couse thats easier said then done..I need to post my email on the forum and ask
people to send me their addresses..or at least the name of the city they live in..so I have a list to take with me and refer to when I get around to other
cities*

[Rev Dark]

The mace, and its cousins the club and the stick are among the first weapons that mankind brought to bear on the problem of 'how do I fuck this
individual's shit up.' The individual might have been food or competition for food; or competition for food that ended up, while perhaps not tasting
quite as good a pumpkin pie, on the plate nonetheless. It has been with us ever since, and in a variety of forms; the stick, the inevitable escalation of the
stick with something tied to the end of it, the metal stick with pointy out bits. It has been a weapon of combat. It has been a symbol of authority. From royal
scepters, to the batons of officers in the trenches. Canadians use one to open parliament, and Al Capone used the Americanized sports version to open
braincases and thus demonstrate that he really, really wanted to be in charge.

As weapons go, it is not ideal. There are certainly things to recommend them. They magnify the force of the bearer and are relatively easy to obtain, or fake
as needed. Working against them, they are, with a few notable exceptions, unbalanced weapons, relying on the motive power of the body as much as the weapon
itself. Depending on their individual characteristics they have limited secondary wounding capabilities, and while they possess great offence, something that
would endear them to Mel the Cook on Alice; their defensive capabilities are limited to having a great offence.

The mace currently being used to bash fossil replicas was. Well it was just silly. Almost five feet long, ending in a huge, bulbous head that sported several
remarkable flanges. I have seen flanges. These were remarkable ones. The mace as an art deco statement. Or a more telling statement, I am an utter prat for
thinking that using this in a combat situation is a good thing. Okay in the really real world that would be the case; in a world suddenly populated with
extraordinary powers, it had be approached with caution.

This went through my mind while laughing boy was dealing with my last statement. I daresay that not nearly the same amount was going through his mind; though
there was, I surmised, considerably more free and open space there; and perhaps a few dust bunnies.

"The world is approximately four point five billion years old, not 10,000; all evidence points to a conclusion that it was not the result of special
creation; Adam and Eve are symbolic figures of a bronze age morality play, they did not live with dinosaurs; or live at all for that matter, and young earth
creationists are ignorant twats."

In my defense, a fight was inevitable. No sense beating around the bush. Besides, I wanted him angry. He alit from his perch, landing on the ground with enough
force to crack the marble. I flipped him the bird. No more time for talkies.

"Blasphemer!" When the advantage of destructive force is on the outside arc, an inside line is recommended. He swung, I stepped in; punching my left
hand, sans sword, into his right, where he gripped the mace. My right, now holding the shorter blade, drove hard at his side. He grunted as the point slammed
home, but it did not penetrate flesh. He knew he had been kissed though, I could see it in his face. He lifted the mace to bring it down, raising it above his
head. I followed the motion, grasping the wrist as it passed behind his center and yanking down hard. Invulnerable. Sure, but joints are joints and physics
does not just happen to other people. He fell backwards to avoid having his shoulder dislocated.

Remember when I said I knew flanges? He fell back onto his mace. It is safe to say that he now knows flanges in a rather more intimate way than I know flanges,
and I can only hope that he and the flanges make each other very happy. I stomped on his face as I stepped past and slashed down. He rolled to the left and was
able to get the haft of his weapon up to intercept the strike. I backpedalled to avoid giving him the opportunity to counter. We circled. He has a reach
advantage. I tossed the short sword away, letting it vanish and brought my bastard sword to hand. He knew I could hurt him; but didn't think I could hurt
him in a very real, blood and spilled guts sense. He might even have been right. He wasn't. He swung. I mimicked the motion that I had used earlier. He was
expecting it. I was counting on it. The sword moved to my left hand and I drove it in a hard, punching strike with the lower harmonic of the blade into his
fingers. These are very small bones with not a lot of protective tissue to sheath them. He might be invulnerable, but he wasn't invulnerable enough. Bones
snapped like breadsticks. He screamed, I made a note to have a good, hard, scour the porcelain bus vomit later. I snapped my arm back and up, feeding the
pommel into teeth; the pommel of my sword being slightly larger than a hockey puck and delivered with similar speed. Teeth are very hard. They are also fairly
brittle, and unless you are Mick Jagger or Steve Tyler, there is not a lot of protective tissue in front of them. Having your mouth open to scream doesn't
help either. Teeth broke; the shards pierced cheeks and lips as I repeated the motion. I grabbed broken fingers and squeezed and twisted in a short, tight,
circle. Pain causing him to follow the motion. I didn't let him. Turning my body to keep his from falling. His elbow went first, the joint giving way with
a sound not unlike Julia Childe quartering a chicken. The shoulder was next. Julia Childe quartering a much larger chicken. I let him fall, face first,
accelerating him into the ground with my hips and landing on top of the loosely flopping arm. Three hard blows with the pommel to the back of his head ended
the fight.

I rose and wiped blood from my face. There wasn't a lot of time.

[Wiregeek]

July 7th, 2009, 6:00pm AKDT.

One of the quirks of House Kat, vs. my 'own' body, was that she wasn't a smoker. Additionally, the regen
powerset came with a minor sensory improvement (the jury was still out whether this was due to Regen, being a Hero, or just 'her' natural genotype).
So, as my father leveled the colossal revolver at me, I could clearly smell the gun oil and little flecks of solvent. Kind of a nasal chorus to the symphony of
adrenaline flooding my body.

I took a deep breath, my hands on my head. "There's been a few.. problems.. " I ventured. My father snorted and gestured with the oversized
pistol in his hand.

"Why don't you have a seat over there and we'll talk about whether you're leaving here in a box or a squad car."


"No can brain today. Want cheezeburger."
From NGE: Nobody Dies, by Gregg Landsman
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5579457/1/NGE_Nobody_Dies

[Foxboy]

Tuesday, July 7, 2009, 1:15pm EDT

Anyone who's held a puppy, kitten or small child is probably aware of just how effective the "wriggle"
defense is when they don't want to be held. Add a couple of centuries of ninja escape techniques and I really had no chance to hold onto Inari when she
woke up and attempted to make her displeasure known.

She glared frostily at me, and a comical expression of surprise flitted across her muzzle.

«Why didn't that work?» she asked in Japanese, her voice surprisingly adorable.

«Probably because,» I replied, «you've only got three tails.»

«Mouuu~» Inari pouted. «Now if only I'd been able to beat your little friend in that...» A clever look crossed her face, and she, for lack of a better
description, danced in a complex pattern on the ground, swishing her tails. I gasped as the Ouroboros portal formed. As Inari gathered herself to dive in, I
leaped as well. Just the thought of a capricious fox spirit left unsupervised in my time stream gave me chills.
''We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat
them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary.''

-- James Nicoll

[Bob Schroeck]

(bump, to eventually be replaced with an installment of the adventures of Evangelia)
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.

[Foxboy]

Ouroborous -- Inari and Fox!Misty Personal timelines: Tuesday, July 7, 2009, 1:16 pm EDT
The serenity of Ouroborous washed over me as I stepped from the portal, but it was the serenity of a ruin. The pool before me was choked with lily pads, and the mighty gnomon of the chapel was decrepit, panes of glass missing. Within, I could still make out the Pillar of Ice and Flame, but it seemed dim compared to Misty's memories. Except for distant birdsong and the trickle of water in the pool, the only sound was wind.
Overcome with an eerie foreboding, I made my way cautiously into the chapel and boggled. Within, sprawled on the ground, was a very familiar suit of armor. The patina of age covered the brass armor of Lord Nemesis, but instead of the sculpted faceplate or helmet I was used to from Misty's memories, and the game, a grinning skull with a shard of glass through the top sent its eternal gaze towards the Pillar.
One of the lesser pillars flashed brightly and Inari rolled from the portal, looking a little frantic.
«No!» she shouted in Japanese. «Why can't I change it?»
A voice from behind startled me. "It is a temporal crux point, Chiyuki-san. Without it, your existence would unravel." I turned to face the speaker, a young Amerasian woman dressed in the normal attire of a Mender. "Welcome to Ouroborous." She bowed. " Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Mender Shoko. Dozou yoroshiku onegai shimasu."
''We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat
them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary.''

-- James Nicoll