A Two Fisted Tale: Agents of K.I.C.K. [nWoD]

[whiskytangofoxt]

Welcome, K.I.C.K.ers. This Chronicle contains strong language, graphic violence, Nazis, strong sexual references and drug references, extended peril, and a pervert named Gene.

You have been warned.

You currently sit in a lage, sterile waiting room, somewhere in the residential quarter of The City. It's around about quarter to three. You can smell pine polish and cheap cigars. Your chairs are mid-quality leather affairs, nothing too spectacular. A tasteful selection of reading material is strewn across a large, cheap-looking coffee table: Daemonolatreia, The Seventh Book of Moses, De Vermis Mysteriis, and several in languages that hurt to read. You are waiting for your next assignment. The last one... did not go so well.

Working for K.I.C.K, you are tasked with one thing - protecting America and it's interests. You normally do this by removing any threats with your... unique skillsets. You are not known to the public at large. You are myths. Urban legends. Ghosts. They don't know what you do for them on a daily basis, and that's a good thing - because what you do is weird. When other agencies find stuff that's over their heads, you are the ones who go in. While you are unique and valuble snowflakes, you are all expendable. Don't get too attatched to your lives.

As you await your briefing, you glance around at your workmates. What are each of you doing to pass the time?

[Cheesegear]

Mary Justice Waters - named after a river boat - sat back in her chair. The chair rocked back on two legs, and the chairback leaned on the wall. Mary had been told once, that that was bad for the chair. Pffft. Mary had been leaning in chairs for most of her life, and had never seen any chair break. Well, except for that fat guy...That was funny.

Mary looked down at herself. Her legs were crossed in a very ladylike fashion, despite the fact that the rest of her posture was, well, 'masculine' would be the word. Mary wore shin-high brown leather 'cowgirl' boots, her jeans tucked into the boots. A knife poked it's hilt out of the top of the right boot.
Her belt buckle, large and silver, depicted a set of crossed revolvers. Her belt itself, a no-nonsense affair contained a holster, contained a large, heavy point-forty four caliber magnum. Smith & Wesson. A great, big Dirty Harry 'go F*ck yourself' gun. If Mary Waters could marry a man - any man - it'd be Clint Eastwood back in day when he could light a match on his stubble. A real man. Well, Clint or Humphrey Bogart. You can't ignore the classic.

Strapped to her thigh she carried a knife sheath. A curved knife. Officially called a khukri by those who knew what they were talking about. 'A really scary knife' by everyone else. Mary also wore a Van Halen shirt. Black. With David Lee Roth on it. The original. Over that, she wore a tanned leather duster. With lots of pockets. You never went wrong with pockets. Sometimes Mary would just put it on, and find a twenty dollar note that she'd forgot. Who knows what you could find in a good coat. Hell, it wasn't even hers. She'd stolen it off a vampire she'd killed a while back.

Mary twirled her set of car keys in her left hand. It was attached to an Aerosmith keyring, and had a rabbit's foot attached to it. She'd picked the foot up from a shaman up on the outskirts of Boise. She was pretty sure the charm, and it's luck had worn off by now, but, you never knew. She much preferred to rely on her rosary and silver crucifix looped around her right wrist. That vampire she'd stolen her coat from? Punched in the face by a fist with a rosary attached. The rest of that fight was elementary.

Still, she twirled her keys. You needed to keep up your movement in your non-dominant hand. She'd once heard of a guy, made a pact with a daemon. Lost his right hand in the deal. Given a Hunter's life-style; that put a pretty huge dent in his sex life. Still, gotta keep up your dexterity in both hands. Who knew when you'd lose one?

Mary was pissed with K.I.C.K. Hell, she still didn't even know what that stood for. Her last job had been some...Thing getting reported in Montanna. Guess what it was? Possessed raccoons making a racket. Amateur hour. Hopefully this time Mary Waters would get a good assignment. One where whatever she was shooting in the face could understand just how monumentally screwed it was when Mary was on the Hunt.

Mary just sat and hummed Walking in Memphis.

[Eurus]

Grace Marie was one of those people who gave an impression of boundless energy, if you were generous. If you weren't, you'd say she was the sort of person that didn't get punched in the face nearly often enough. To say that she paced around the room was not quite accurate; "bubbled" came closer to capturing it.

Her own clothing managed to be simultaneously modest and nearly obscene, in the way that schoolgirl outfits can sometimes manage. Not a single weapon was visible anywhere on her, either. Were it not for the large brass foot-shaped K.I.C.K. badge that she wore, plainly visible despite the supposed secrecy of the organization, one might have assumed she was lost.

Currently, she was chattering to anyone and everyone that would listen; not loud, but persistent. How much she was looking forward to whatever exciting mission they had in store next, how she'd nearly broken a nail on that one vampire's ribs, how public respect for cheerleaders was falling these days... Anything and everything that came to mind, all delivered in the same chipper monologue.

[Malfunctioned]

A youngish man sits bent over the table near you spinning a thin metallic disc on the table in front of him. He could probably be quite handsome, in an unassuming sort of way, if he remembered to wash or comb his neck length brown hair or if he thought to shave more than once every few weeks as the beginings of a small beard showed. Going to a clothes shop sometime would also have payed off, though he did not wear the khaki army jacket, white t-shirt and pale blue jeans badly it was just that he seemed to wear the same kind of outfit day after day.

Arnold watched the disc spinning for a couple of minutes until he was satisfied with it's constant motion. He then carefully dropped a tiny ball bearing next to it, the bearing was caught in the magnetic field of the disc and started to orbit it, speeding up until it became a silvery blur. He took aim again and flicked another bearing, it landed directly opposite the first and after a few seconds of orbit both balls stood frozen in mid-air, the disc still in unending rotation. A small smile appeared on Arnolds face as he felt satisfied with his small experiment.

"Magnetics....is there anything greater?" He half mumbled, almost completely unaware that others were in the room with him.

[DJDizzy]

A broadshouldered man sits in a lounging chair smoking on a cigar. His long black hair and beard stubble gives him a menacing look. He is wearing a thick brown woolen trenchcoat and a pair of army boots and some jeans. He is taller than your average human, but that might just be because he is in his Near-human form. He has the look of a calm man who can easily explode into a whirlwind of death if given the chance. His subtle movements show that he is well trained and restrained.

On his belts is 2 silverplated desert eagles and a couple of home-made devices. They look lethal.

Finishing his cigar, he flicks it over in the nearby grey sterilelooking trashcan before fishing out one of the more expensive cigars from his underneath his coat and starts to smoke that.

In his right hand he is constantly flipping a golden coin as if waiting for something to happen.

[whiskytangofoxt]

As you wait, a static crackle fills the room.

From the intercom, a deep bassy voice rolls into your ears, and does some very naughty things to your ear canal.

"Agents, this is Command. Prepare for mission briefing."

Your mission, should you choose to accept it - and remember, we recommend you do otherwise we will kill you - is to infiltrate the Serpent and Rainbow nightclub in the Lower East-side of the City.

Several reports we have recieved indicate that the club is a front for a drug-running operation offering a unique high: a mix of amphetamines, buffer chemicals, and what is believed to be the ground-up pineal glands of several Supernaturals.

Your mission is to investigate the building, and to discover the source of the new drug. Head down to the garage to get your kit ready. Control out."

[Eurus]

"Woo, awesome! I love clubs!"

Grace exclaims enthusiastically, apparently unperturbed - or excited - by the fact that their visit would undoubtedly involve excessive bloodshed. She glances at her clothes, but shrugs, apparently deciding them to be good enough. "C'mon people, let's move!"

And, following her own advice, the peppy teen bounces out of the room.

[DJDizzy]

"Time to kick some ass!" Jericho growls as he strolls out of the room, taking the safety off his 2 pistols. He flicks the now smoked out cigar into the trashcan, hitting it right in the center. "Shotgun on the shotgun seat" jericho exlclaims as he heads down to the A-Team van.

[Malfunctioned]

Arnold slips past the large man and dangles the key-card of the X.T.R.E.M.E Machine in front of him.

"Just try to keep your shots away from any civillians this time and only shoot when there is an enemy to shoot."

He lets out a small laugh.

"Anyway, does anyone actually know this place we're going to? I know running in guns blazing is our style, and don't get me wrong I love the smell of napalm in the morning, but we can only soak up so many bullets.......and by we I mean my bus."

[whiskytangofoxt]

When you reach the bus, you find a note pinned to the window, containing the address of the club.

You load up, Arnold driving, Jericho riding shotgun, and Grace, Mary, Miss Mae and Darcan in the back.

The drive takes about 40 minutes, and over that time the usual arguments over who gets to listen to what radio station, who is buying the first round of drinks after work, who farted (it's ALWAYS the wolfman...) - nothing out of the ordinary.

You pull up outside the club for about 1600, while it is still closed for the day.

Do you wish to head in now, or case the joint until it opens?

[Malfunctioned]

(I'm going to hold steady for now, Though I take out the Solar Rifle just in the others do decide to jump ahead.)

[Eurus]

"Ugh, waiting is so boooooring," Grace whines loudly about ten seconds after they park. "If we're gonna case the place, can we do it from the inside? Or at least go to that restaurant across the street - I see a totally cute waiter..."

[The_Snark]

"Put the sun gun away, hon, you'll spook the customers." Miss Mae's voice precedes her out of the van, honeyed enough to trap flies and husky enough to put an Alaskan sled team to shame.

It's a hard voice for a body to live up to, but hers does a pretty good job: face that makes you look thrice, figure most Hollywood starlets would kill for. She's wearing a long overcoat with a white fur collar, a tight wraparound skirt, high heels and sunglasses. On anybody else, it would be fifty years out of fashion.

Around Miss Mae, fashion shuffles its feet in embarrassment and wonders if maybe the last fifty years of progress weren't a mistake.

She leans against the van, lights a cigarette, stares at the bar for a few seconds. "I think I'm goin' in. Jerry boy, why don't you come with me? The rest of you hang around outside. If you hear a fight, come and find us."

"And don't worry, Gracie... I'll be quick." Mae saunters off with a weapons-grade sway in her step. Not deliberately, no of course not, it's just the heels—it's a wonder she can stay upright in those, much less walk straight... She raises a hand and knocks on the club's side door.

[Cheesegear]

Before she gets into the X.T.R.E.M.E. Machine, a vehicle the size of a small bus, Mary runs a hand over her car. A black '67 GTO Pontiac. She'd have to drive it some other time. She pocketed her keys and attached rabbit's foot and sighed.
"Next time, darl..." she trails off as she wistfully looks at her muscle car.

:In the Bus-Van-Thing:
Mary opens the chamber of her heavy revolver, checks the rounds, gives the chambers a spin, and locks the revolver back into it's firing position.
"Ready when you are sweetpea." Mary says. As she jumps from the back of the van. Mary leans back against the van, with her Magnum in her hip holster. Concealed underneath her heavy duster coat.

Mary shields her eyes from the sun with one hand. She'd have to get a hat. All good Hunters needed a hat. And Clint Eastwood wore a hat all the time. They couldn't be too bad. Mary watched as Miss Mae - Mary still wondered if 'Miss' was actually her first name - swaggered, no...Sauntered, no...Swayed, towards the building.

Mary would have to get Miss Mae to teach her how to walk like that sometime. But, honestly, heels? In their line of work? How did she even manage to stand upright?

...Must be a 'Nater thing...Must be...

[whiskytangofoxt]

As you exit the X.T.R.E.M.E. Machine, you spot something out of the corner of your eye and hang back.

From a nearby alley, three people emerge: a woman - no, a man... a someone, almost perfectly androgenous, medium height and very slim build, wearing all black (including the tightest leather trousers you've ever seen) with an unruly mop of black hair (further investigation makes it plain that a lot of time has been spent making this hairdo appear random); a very tall man, again all in black leather, but with waist-length black hair (highlighted bluey-purple) with a very prominent nose - the overall effect is that of a very long leather-clad crow; finally, a dark-skinned woman in a red figure-hugging cocktail dress, with dark curls cascading down her back.
They head in through the front door, leaving it unlocked behind them.

From inside, you hear what can best be described as a rabble - like 50 people all speaking, then hushed at the same time.

[Eurus]

Gracie stops her perfectly-choreographed sulk at being told to stay behind, and perks up at the sight of the three people. "Ooh, perfect! They must be bad guys, right? Only bad guys look like that."

What makes this comment slightly disturbing is her completely earnest expression and tone as she says it. "We should tail 'em!"

[Malfunctioned]

Arnold sees an opportunity to give his 'Sun Gun' as Miss Mae called it a proper workout.

"She..she has a...a...a point." He struggled to claim that Gracie had made some grand leap of logic. "Though I don't think she would be too safe by herself, I tell you what, I'll keep watch over her and make sure she doesn't make any bad decisions." He throws an awkward smile over to Gracie. "Sound good?"

[The_Snark]

"Nice try, sweetie." She's probably referring to Gracie rather than Arnold. Probably. "But we can see where they went, and you two kinda stand out."

Miss Mae blows a final puff of smoke into the air, extinguishes out her cigarette on the side of the van, and gestures to Jericho to follow her lead. She sways over to the club's front door, and knocks sharply.

[whiskytangofoxt]

At first, nothing happens.

After about 30 seconds of waiting, a small eyeslot slides open, and a pair of icy blue eyes tell you

"We're closed until 11PM. F*ck off."

in a polite, fey voice as the eyeslot slams home once more.

[Eurus]

Grace seems somewhat thrown by the implication that she actually stood out more than Miss Mae, and stares dumbly until the pair are gone. Only in a nightclub...

[Malfunctioned]

"Okay, that's Plan A down the drain." Arnold takes out a thin metal rod, painted completely black, that hums slightly as he squeezes the rubber grip. "Plan B?" He walks over to the door and knocks loudly, this time holding his stun rod level with the door, ready to jab it as soon as the eyeslot opens.

[whiskytangofoxt]

As the eyeslot slides open again, you cram the stunrod through. You feel a solid thud at the other end as it connects with someone (or something) in what you assume to be the face. A muffled scream and a heavy thud from the other side indicates it worked a treat.

You try the door and find it to be surprisingly unlocked.

[Eurus]

Grace watches the brief exchange with visible interest, and actually gives a short round of applause. "Go Arnold! Now that's my kind of plan!"

[The_Snark]

Miss Mae gives Arnold a Look, and nudges him aside before he can charge in with guns blazing. Like the doorman could have kept her out...

She nudges the door open and steps inside, daintily avoiding the heap on the floor. "Terribly sorry about that," she announces to the room inside, not sounding very apologetic, "but I simply cannot abide rudeness."

"Now, I'm here about a business deal. Where's your boss?"

[Cheesegear]

"God, damn it!" Mary invokes The Almighty, as she sees Arnold draw his weapon and jam it through the door. Mary pushes herself off at a lope to the door of the club as she brushes her coat to one side to have easier access to her gun.

If she needed it, that is. If. Maybe. Probably. Yeah, scratch that...She was going to need it. Mary did however, debate privately with herself if her knives might be the best solution right now. No-one really likes hearing gunshots during the day-time. Maybe the City's Finest would have to get involved? And Mary hated killing the regulars.

[whiskytangofoxt]

You address the single remaining guard in the room.

He does not look happy.

In fact, as you watch, his face appears to warp and stretch - his teeth look awfully big, his eyes a weird shade of yellow.

Jericho, you can smell the scent of the Uratha on him... but he doesn't look or move like any Forsaken you've ever encountered.

He lunges at Mae, awkwardly swinging a recently sprouted claw in her direction.

[whiskytangofoxt]

Mae, roll Dex + Athletics to dodge, or suggest another course of action!

[The_Snark]

Miss Mae backpedals, cursing whoever decided to set a wolfie to guarding the front door in a most unladylike fashion. Really, some people just had no consideration for others.

(Dex+Athletics! [roll0])

[Malfunctioned]

Arnold hooks the stunrod back onto his belt as he draw the Solar Rifle and tries to aim a shot at the werewolf currently attack Miss Mae.

[roll0] [roll1] [roll2] [roll3] [roll4] [roll5] [roll6] [roll7] [roll8] [roll9] [roll10]

[whiskytangofoxt]

The wolf-man-thing ploughs into Mae shoulder first, knocking her back out of the door and causing 1 bashing damage. Being the graceful sort, she manages to land back on the tips of her precipitous high-heels, mostly unperturbed.

Clinging to the doorframe, the bestial guard searches for another victim, and spots Arnold and his Sun Gun.

It is the last thing he sees before the beam of light hits his face, blinding him and scorching a good part of the skin off his face. A large section of the wall further across the small room also takes a fair hit, paint and wallpaper peeling away as well.

As he falls, the distinctive PEWPEWPEW of the Solar Rfle has attracted some attention. You hear footsteps coming from several directions at once.

[Malfunctioned]

"Hmmmm, maybe if I narrowed the beams wavelength....." Before Arnold could finish his musings he is interrupted by the sound of foot steps. "So what do we have here then?" He asks, looking around.


Initiative
[/spoiler] Okay, this one was ruined :P [/spoiler]
[roll]1d10+5

[Eurus]

[roll0]

Gracie seems both surprised and pleased by this turn of events, and cracks her knuckles theatrically. "Oh, this'll be fun. And here I was worried that we'd just be beating up stoned clubbers."

[The_Snark]

Miss Mae rolls smoothly to her feet, producing a handgun from somewhere and pointing it at the closest set of noises. Her expression is not one you want to see behind the business end of a gun; it's a rare occasion that she doesn't get her way, and she means to see that somebody gets shot for it.

[roll0]

[DJDizzy]

Jericho does a backflip before going into combat style facing the noises, his guns drawn and loaded.

[roll0] Init

[whiskytangofoxt]

So, you stand in the centre of the room, checking each of the three doors in turn (as far as you can tell, no-one is coming through the front door. Well, no one in their right mind, at least.)

The west door bursts open about 5 foot from Arnold, and two men exit: the first is wearing a dark pinstripe suit, with his dark hair tied back in a ponytail. In his hand, he brandishes a flickknife. He advances on the group with a cautious stride. The second has a very close-shaven head, and fires a small hangun at the group from the doorway.

The shot misses, slamming into the wall and apparently cracking a waterpipe somewhere inside - a thin mist cascades from the hole.

Arnold, you're next.

[Malfunctioned]

Arnold look from the man holding the pistol and the hole in the wall and points the laser at him.

"Lighten up."

[roll0] [roll1] [roll2] [roll3] [roll4] [roll5] [roll6] [roll7] [roll8] [roll9]

[whiskytangofoxt]

The beam hits the thug's arm, evaporating a chunk of flesh along with a section of the door behind. He drops to the ground awkwardly,pistol still in hand. With a small moan, he appears to have lost consciousness.

The northmost double-door now opens, but no-one comes though at first. However, you catch sight of a younger man, face paniced and wild, wearing a white shirt with shoulder-length blonde hair, fire wildly into the room with a sub machine gun. Just above the noise of the weapon, you can hear an oddly pathetic sound:

"Meeeeeggh!" (imagine a child swinging for a bully three grades older than him)

As the burst tears past the group and mostly leaves via the opened front door, a second man dives through the doors, knocking them partially off their hinges. He's big - at least 7 foot at a guess. He seems swollen and misshapen, covered in seemingly random patches of hair and the same stretched muzzle-face as the first bodyguard. He half lumbers, half runs at the group at large, growling something that may have been an insult (it's hard to tell with so many new teeth in the way) and is closest to Mary.

Mae, you're up next.

[The_Snark]

Maybe Miss Mae feels that girls oughta stick together. Maybe the lurching wolf-man offends her aesthetic sensibilities. Maybe he just looks too much like the guy who shoved him earlier, and therefore makes the most satisfying target. Maybe he's just closest. The wolf-thug doesn't really have the time to ponder the question—he's too busy with the bullet she's just popped off in his direction.

[roll0]

[whiskytangofoxt]

The bullet blows a hole in the wolfman's shoulder - chunks of black and maroon exit the other side, spraying the wall and ceiling. The fur around his head and muzzle are blown back, and as they settle, they are thing with lumps of gore. As the big guy stumbles forward, he loses his footing, and slides down to all fours, then onto his face as the blown out shoulder collapses as he puts weight on it. Still he crawls forward, swinging one beefy clawed fist at Mary, the other dragging behind uselessly. His previously human-esque snarling has become a full animal roar, causing some mild soiling in the SMG-toting teen behind the door.

Grace, your turn.

[Eurus]

Before the wolf-man's head even hits the ground, Grace is nimbly hopping over him, bolting down the hallway straight at the poor kid with the gun. With a final leap, she lashes out with one dainty foot right at his chin, her skirt managing to somehow defy gravity and keep her fully decent in the process.

[roll0]

[whiskytangofoxt]

As Grace's sneakered foot slams into the wall behind him, the teenage boy sees the crack left in the concrete by just her foot. He drops the gun, and decides to get the hell out of dodge. As he runs, you can hear him screaming "BOSS! BOOOOSSSSSS! COMPANY!"

[DJDizzy]

"Oh no you dont" Jericho growls as he shifts into Wolf form with a leap that is so graceful that you might not think this large man capable of it, and gives chase.

(Up to DM to decide wether or not I catch him, havent got my books atm so cant calculate my speed, be assured that it is over 14)

[Eurus]

Grace drops to the ground as gracefully as her name would suggest, brushing a bit of hair out of her eyes as she frowns. "Bah. Bad luck, I guess."

Shrugging it off, she looks around for any more attackers.

[whiskytangofoxt]

Upon hearing the ravenous beast behind him give chase, the teen gains a speed borne of sheer terror, limbs flailing at previously unreached speeds.

Unfortunately, it isn't enough.

As the half-ton of fur and teeth batters into him, the young man falls, hitting the ground face-first with a sickening thud. As Jericho bats him about a bit, he sees the gash running along the boy's forehead, blood pissing out at a rate of knots. He's awfully floppy at this point.

As Grace scans the room, you spot the third door to the room open but a fraction, and one of the icy blue eyes you spotted through the slot earlier peeks back at you - before slamming shut and, by the sounds of it, locking and bolting the door.

[Malfunctioned]

"Knock knock!" Arnold swings the Solar Rifle over to the door and lets loose another blast, hoping to blast it open.

[roll0][roll1][roll2][roll3][roll4][roll5][roll6][roll7][roll8][roll9]

[whiskytangofoxt]

Arnold's first blast takes out the main lock, leaving a fist-sized hole in the door and a pile of slag on the floor that at one stage was the lock. However, the door remains firmly closed.

[Eurus]

"Ugh, hiding like a sissy? Majorly uncool."

Grace doesn't try to break down the door herself, but keeps an eye out, waiting for a chance to take out some aggression on more heads.

[The_Snark]

Miss Mae watches as the wolfman struggles, clawing himself forward and stubbornly refusing to die despite the fact that she'd clearly just shot him. Really, back in her day people had better manners about that. And as she is still alive, she considers, it's still her day. She points the gun at him again.

"Down, boy."

BANG.

[roll0]

[whiskytangofoxt]

The bullet tears through the wolfman's skull, pounding his head forward into a puddle on the floor. Flecks of brain, blood and something yellow spatter Grace's shins and shoes.

The dull room is now empty (or at least, is littered with corpses and unconscious combatants.). The wall is still dribbling water, the pipe slowly losing pressure. After the ringing of your ears has subsided, you can hear mechanical sounds coming from behind the locked door, as well as a very faint chant.

Are you wishing to maintain initiatives, and stay up for combat, or drop out (you will need to reroll next combat)?

[The_Snark]

Miss Mae blows smoke off the tip of her gun.

That critical task accomplished, she looks around for her next target, and finds there isn't one. Rather than let herself be put off by this, her attention settles on the door, which is remaining stubbornly closed even though its lock—and for that matter, its handle too—is gently sizzling in a puddle on the ground.

She sashays over to the door and gives it a curious kind of kick, just in case.

Let me know what to roll if you need one—I'm just trying to tell if it's ready to open and just needs a push, or if there's Something Else keeping it closed.

[Eurus]

Meanwhile, Grace is curiously listening to the faint sounds of chanting that can be heard, trying to pick out any details. She didn't know much about the occult, but she was still curious.

[whiskytangofoxt]

The chanting appears to be one or two people, at most, interspersed with very loud sounds in between - possibly tens of people at a time.

The door remains firmly closed, but as far as you can tell, it's mere bolts that hold you back - a far more solid blow will probably lift it. No traces of magic or trickery are prominent.

[Eurus]

"Need some help?"

[The_Snark]

Miss Mae stands back with a smile and a sweep of the arm, presenting an unimpeded view of the door like a gift. "All yours."

[DJDizzy]

Jericho returns with a little blood dribbling from his mouth "Did I miss anything?" he asks as he unceremonously waltzes over to the door. "So, why dont we just kick down the door and kill the bad guys?" he asks as he adjusts his trenchcoat, seemingly unaffected by his shapechanging, perhaps it was made of Flexitium?

[Eurus]

"My plan exactly!"

Grace's cheery voice comes from about ten feet away from the door, followed by rapidly approaching footsteps as she takes a running jump to spectacularly drop-kick the door, apparently ignoring the fact that she'd have a better chance of hurting herself that way. Yet somehow, she manages to recover gracefully.


[roll0]
(Use the first 8 rolls, +1 for every time 10-again kicks in.)

(EDIT: 4 successes.)