Chicago Vigilantes [IC]

[JNAProductions]

Chicago. The city of villains, as many know it. A few scandals with heroic Capes caused a big crackdown, and now, combined with corruption in the halls of power, villains have virtually free reign in the city.

That's relevant to you-but right now, you're attending a Mensa meeting, here in the big city. You're all incredibly intelligent individuals in your own way, and this is a chance to have a meeting of the minds, with people as smart as you are.

What are you doing, as the gathering comes together?

[moonfly7]

John is milling about in the general meeting room, he hasn't been to one of these in awhile. 6 months almost, ever since the incident and he had dropped out of college, he had stopped coming. He'd gotten drunk for the first month, before he had his revelation. And now, about 4 months into his....Night Job, he had realised it was time to start working to regain some semblance of a social life. Not necassarily because he wanted too, but because others would see isolation as grieving and living in his own despair long past the point of social acceptance. And, he had to admit, it was nice to finally be in a room with other people of his intellegence level again.

Who knows, maybe he'd get some advice or inspiration for his next addition to his gear tonight? He thought as he wandered over to the free coffee table.

[Breitheamh]

Why am I here again? the thought spiked through the rest of his mind as Fred tried to ignore just another person staring at him in...what would you call that? Disgust? Fear? Anyway, it didn't matter. He couldn't let that get to him. He was here now, "socializing" just like Dr. Liz had suggested. And she was trying her best, right? He owed her at least an attempt at pretending he was getting better.

But still...

I mean, what was the point of making friends? He'd always been fine with just Sara to talk to, and he was liable to drop dead any day. It would be cruel to subject a friend to that.

Just f***ing talk to someone, you f***ing moron! he screamed in his own head, trying to snap himself out of that downward spiral of thought. He physically shook his head to clear it, and then immediately regretted THAT decision. As he steadied the swimming stars all around his 360 degree field of view, he spotted them...

Wait... Is that...? No... it couldn't be...

"Mm-m-mr. Wallbrink?" he manages to say, his voice coming out halting and reedy. F***ing sinuses, he thinks as he coughs and clears his throat into his handkerchief, ignoring the half-surprised half-disgusted look from a man walking by him.

He tries again, "Mm-mr. Wallbrink, is that you?"

[moonfly7]

"Dr.Meuller?" John asks as he turns, styrafoam cup of coffee in his hand

"I havent seen you since I finished my class on Quantum Mechanics, besides that one phone call about applying some of your theories to metalurgy and fabrication I mean. What was that, at least 5 months ago? How have you been?

Funny that John would run into one of the brilliant men who had actually lain the ground work for the form fitting Reverb Steel plate lying underneath his three layers of suit coat, button up, and shirt. He had been an inspiration during his guest lectures, and he theorized that it was likely whatever the hell Brinkstel was made of had, in his drunken stupor, been inspired by Dr.Meuller's work as well. Although he had no notes to back that up.

[MrAbdiel]

“And I said, ‘No, I said isotope’.”

A heartbeat of pause. Then a ripple of laughter filled the room, loud and cathartic and only somewhat performative. Some of the people here were bonafide geniuses who were also socially rounded, confident people. But the bulk of the intellectual crowd had gone most of their youth sacrificing some portion of their social efforts for the betterment of their study and inner lives; and when they convinced themselves to come to large group gatherings, they were most happy when they were in a stable orbit. Not the focus of a conversation, lest they suffer the awful possibility of being exposed as in some way insufficient; but also not alone leaning against a wall, radiating their own social ineptitude for the world to see. Right now they were in orbit of Dr. Arnold Wright, and Sister Dahlia Daniels; both mainstays of the local Mensa gatherings and safe options to orbit. Dr Wright told a joke that was at best worthy of a murmured chuckle; but Dahlia had opened up with her infectious, musical laugh and suddenly all the bodies in orbit, ostensibly part of the conversation, were licensed to participate in the same way and feel part of the whole arrangement.

“That’s so funny, Arnold. I keep expecting to catch you telling the same ones, but not yet.” She gave him a smile, and he gave a little flourish of the wrist, and a mock quarter bow; and they exchanged a few more moments of pleasant chatter about how the mayor’s office was rumored to be sitting in huge grant for one of the departments at the U of C, and the injustice of such things always going to the ‘sexier’ sciences rather than in any of the workhorse engineering departments.

Dahlia had never been a stranger to social focus. Indeed, through her school days she had come to resent drawing so much attention on account of her being, as her dad had almost tearfully warned her, ‘real pretty - the kind of pretty that’s gonna cause trouble with boys.’ It had caused trouble with boys; and sharp turn to donning the habit of a sacred Sister was deeply informed by this chip on her shoulder. But the first three years she had spent in isolation and service to God had shown her what it meant to be hidden and unremarkable, and thrown a kinder perspective back to the graces taken for granted. Now, as part of the Ordo, her dress requirements were considerably less restrictive; and she didn’t mine being a cynosure in meetings like this. Not that she’d dressed specifically to draw eyes; she just wasn’t required to spurn them. A long black pencil skirt and short-sleeved pleat-necked blouse suggested an approachable, sleek minimalism; brass rimmed circular spectacles threw in a suggestion of unearned maturity; a no-nonsense blonde bun suggested no nonsense, while the 6H pencils pierced through it like chopsticks assured the observer that a certain amount of nonsense would, indeed, be tolerated. Much more librarian chic than bride of Christ, these days; though her rosary was rarely anywhere but displayed around her neck, or visibly in her hands. She knew what she was.

She excused herself from the group with a light touch to Dr Wright’s shoulder and a smile cast around the group, and peeled away to make sure the snack tables were not being ignored as hungry attendees trickled in. It had been her suggestion at the previous meeting of the events committee that they should spring for catered sandwiches and sacrifice the charming nostalgia of the pot-luck. There are people who, given any reason not to attend such a thing, will take it. Covering the food is just one less reason; and a feeling of imperfect safety, however irrational, was another. Her heels clicked on the hired hall’s hardwood as she swanned from the food - gratifyingly beginning to vanish now, as bolder guests broke the invisible seal of social proof on the platters and others followed their examples. Her next destination was the front entry, to check in with the security she’d nagged the committee into hiring smooth over that second possible reason.

“Any potential troublemakers?” She asked, as she drew up alongside the guards.

Of course, at this point, she hadn’t at all considered there might genuinely be trouble made tonight at all.

“And I said, ‘No, I said isotope’.”

A heartbeat of pause.

Don't leave him hanging. Give him your good laugh; that always melts him.

Then a ripple of laughter filled the room, loud and cathartic and only somewhat performative. Some of the people here were bonafide geniuses who were also socially rounded, confident people. But the bulk of the intellectual crowd had gone most of their youth sacrificing some portion of their social efforts for the betterment of their study and inner lives; and when they convinced themselves to come to large group gatherings, they were most happy when they were in a stable orbit. Not the focus of a conversation, lest they suffer the awful possibility of being exposed as in some way insufficient; but also not alone leaning against a wall, radiating their own social ineptitude for the world to see. Right now they were in orbit of Dr. Arnold Wright, and Sister Dahlia Daniels; both mainstays of the local Mensa gatherings and safe options to orbit. Dr Wright told a joke that was at best worthy of a murmured chuckle; but Dahlia had opened up with her infectious, musical laugh and suddenly all the bodies in orbit, ostensibly part of the conversation, were licensed to participate in the same way and feel part of the whole arrangement.

Now tell him he's funny. Touch his forearm, just with your fingertips.
This man is your friend, Dahlia. He does not require flattery; only kindness.
It's not flattery. He is funny. And not bad looking, in a fatherly sort of way.

“That’s so funny, Arnold. I keep expecting to catch you telling the same ones, but not yet.” She gave him a smile, and he gave a little flourish of the wrist, and a mock quarter bow; and they exchanged a few more moments of pleasant chatter about how the mayor’s office was rumored to be sitting in huge grant for one of the departments at the U of C, and the injustice of such things always going to the ‘sexier’ sciences rather than in any of the workhorse engineering departments.

A disappointing display. Doctor Wright revels in the fulfilment of his low expectation; but it is within his grasp to affect the process toward his goal. Perhaps this year, he will muster the courage to ask for such grants.
I would submit that a woman who looks down on a man for exercising his right to fruitlessly bitch about his life has had precious little to bitch about herself.

Dahlia had never been a stranger to social focus. Indeed, through her school days she had come to resent drawing so much attention on account of her being, as her dad had almost tearfully warned her, ‘real pretty - the kind of pretty that’s gonna cause trouble with boys.’ It had caused trouble with boys; and sharp turn to donning the habit of a sacred Sister was deeply informed by this chip on her shoulder. But the first three years she had spent in isolation and service to God had shown her what it meant to be hidden and unremarkable, and thrown a kinder perspective back to the graces taken for granted. Now, as part of the Ordo, her dress requirements were considerably less restrictive; and she didn’t mine being a cynosure in meetings like this. Not that she’d dressed specifically to draw eyes; she just wasn’t required to spurn them. A long black pencil skirt and short-sleeved pleat-necked blouse suggested an approachable, sleek minimalism; brass rimmed circular spectacles threw in a suggestion of unearned maturity; a no-nonsense blonde bun suggested no nonsense, while the 6H pencils pierced through it like chopsticks assured the observer that a certain amount of nonsense would, indeed, be tolerated. Much more librarian chic than bride of Christ, these days; though her rosary was rarely anywhere but displayed around her neck, or visibly in her hands. She knew what she was.

But then, you're not really a bride of Christ at all now, are you? You're a divorcee of Christ; which is just another way to say unencumbered by vows. Now touch his forearm. He'll like it, and think about you all night.

She excused herself from the group with a light touch to Dr Wright’s shoulder {Coward.}and a smile cast around the group, then peeled away to make sure the snack tables were not being ignored as hungry attendees trickled in. It had been her suggestion at the previous meeting of the events committee that they should spring for catered sandwiches and sacrifice the charming nostalgia of the pot-luck. There are people who, given any reason not to attend such a thing, will take it. Covering the food is just one less reason; and a feeling of imperfect safety, however irrational, was another. Her heels clicked on the hired hall’s hardwood as she swanned from the food - gratifyingly beginning to vanish now, as bolder guests broke the invisible seal of social proof on the platters and others followed their examples. Her next destination was the front entry, to check in with the security she’d nagged the committee into hiring smooth over that second possible reason.

Honestly. The way you mother everyone, woman. You turn every opportunity to enjoy yourself into a chance to fuss and organise. All you're doing compounded the inevitable breakdown with untaken opportunities. Even the angels find time to dance on the head of a pin.
This is a misuse of the idiom.
This is a misuse of a life!

“Any potential troublemakers?” She asked, as she drew up alongside the guards.

Of course, at this point, she hadn’t at all considered there might genuinely be trouble made tonight at all.

[Ameraaaaaa]

Ray was in a bad mood. Afterall he had to watch as a bunch of stupid philosophers academics and professors get the privilege of getting to talk about their passions. Where Ray himself was forced by a dragon into servitude as a hero. Not like ray had a concrete plan in life. But it still bugged him.

"Christ. Those philosophers won't stop yapping about absurdism vs existentialism. Honestly it's not like there's a point to all of this. Just lucky people debating unnecessarily. Shame i can't drink on the job. At least i got those wrestling ppv tickets for me and the gang to watch after this boring event." Ray thought to himself with a bored look on his face.

"Oh nothing sister. Just the breeze of the wind. That's all. How's the lord treating ya. Haven't talked to him much lately myself. Can't remember last time i went to church actually."

[MrAbdiel]

She puffed a polite little laugh at his friendly cynicism, and settled beside him for a little while; smiling and occasionally shaking the hands of late arrivals. The non-sequitur response - seen any troublemakers, just the breeze of the wind - spoke volumes about his disinterest. She couldn't blame him, exactly. If she had her way, she wouldn't be here either. A friend in Melbourne had sent her a fragment of a falsified crucifix that the church had believed belonged to Saint Mary MacKillop until earlier this year when photographic analysis insisted the woodgrain was wrong. She was anxious to take a crack at figuring our how the counterfeiters had prematurely aged the false relic. But even if this, here, wasn’t her job like it was Ray’s, it was at least a responsibility she had devoted herself to. That was enough to compel her to endure its more tiresome elements.

"That's a shame, mister Stevenson. But fortunately, I seem to recall that the whole thing is very much about being bad at following the Lord; and then getting progressively better at it. They're open any Sunday you feel ready."

Her voice carried the assuring lilt of a woman who knew he wasn't really inviting her to pressure him into reforming his church attendance habits; and than she knew that he knew that she wasn't really trying that hard, as much as filling out the expected response that a sister ought to. The cold breeze off Lake Michigan wisped past them, stripping the heat from her bare forearms and causing her to shiver briefly, and fold those arms under the shelf of her chest, tight against herself.

"Thank you for taking the work at short notice, by the way. I had to wrestle the funding from the committee all the way up to the eleventh hour. We were -this- close to someone losing an eye over it."

[Ameraaaaaa]

Ray smirked at the remark about religion. And left it at that.

When she mentioned funding ray replied jokingly
"Well luckily now with us here nobody is losing any eyes any time soon. Or any other body part for that matter.

When he saw her shivering he again smirked. Cold ain't it. Wouldn't be surprised if a weather manipulator was behind it. Especially in a city like this. he lost the smirk in that last bit.

[MrAbdiel]

That made her laugh a little; a pleasing, genuine sound that has the power to go some ways toward warming the hearer.

“Now that’d be one hell of a headline. ‘Windy City Discovered To Be Warm And Comfortable, If Not For Citizen Windy’.”

[Ameraaaaaa]

Ray joked once more after the uplifting laugh from Dahlia "continued on page 12. Where you'll find out his evil plan to mildly inconvenience the entire planet."

Despite standing at 6 foot and being moderately buff he carried a friendly but cynical aura. With a hint of self assuredness. Which makes sense the man had a very good defensive power. Not that anyone here knew that.

[Breitheamh]

"Dr.Meuller?" John asks as he turns, styrafoam cup of coffee in his hand

"I havent seen you since I finished my class on Quantum Mechanics, besides that one phone call about applying some of your theories to metalurgy and fabrication I mean. What was that, at least 5 months ago? How have you been?

Funny that John would run into one of the brilliant men who had actually lain the ground work for the form fitting Reverb Steel plate lying underneath his three layers of suit coat, button up, and shirt. He had been an inspiration during his guest lectures, and he theorized that it was likely whatever the hell Brinkstel was made of had, in his drunken stupor, been inspired by Dr.Meuller's work as well. Although he had no notes to back that up.

Was that...excitement?? Was someone actually excited to see... him?? Fred tried to ignore that shocked feeling for a moment so he could offer the proper response to his old student.

"B-bbee's knees," he said, with a wry chuckle. Huh! That wasn't so bad! Let's keep it going, he thought as he continued with a slightly louder, sort of barking laugh, "Hh-h-I was s-sorry to hear you'd dropped out. Y-you w-w-wwere the only student who seemed to u-h-understand what the hell I was always rambling on about, huh-HA."

Almost as soon as the words left his mouth his smile abandoned him. S***! He's probably sensitive about that subject. Idiot! Just have to wait and see if anything can be repaired.

[moonfly7]

John wipes a hand across his brow and nods
"Yeah, I've heard that from some of my professors, the sorry for me leaving bit I mean. But, thank you, I really appreciate the sentiment." He takes a swig of his coffee

"Truth be told, I was sad to see me go too. I just-I had some s*** happen at home and I had to take a couple weeks off for it. And after, well-it ended up being much longer. I'm still recovering from what happened." He chuckles awkwardly"If I'm honest tonight is the first time in months I've left the apartment for anything but work."

Liar

He thinks to himself. He's been going out every night, beating up the neighborhood toughs, stalking gang members till they're alone and their guard is down. The last 4 months have been nothing but productive for him, but he can't exactly say that now can he?

and the sentiment, at least, is true. This is the first time since all of this craziness started that he's had a conversation with anyone who isn't someone he's currently beating the crap out of.

[Breitheamh]

Okay, I can save this. No harm done.

Fred removes his foot from his mouth long enough to say, "Oh? And w-h-w-hat are you doing for w-work these days?"


S***! He said something happened! You should have asked about that!

[moonfly7]

"Nothing in any field of interest I'm afraid. I've actually joined the workforce wearing a bluecollar. Pretty sure my teachers would be absolutely shocked to learn that my engineering and chemistry classes have all gone into Plumbing work. But" He shrugs "It pays the bills and keeps the lights on."
he shakes his head.
"I don't know how you manage it. You're situation is ten times worse than mine, and you managed to not only continue your work but further your field of study far beyond anything anyone could ever dream of. In twenty years, students are going to be reading about you in their textbooks."

[Breitheamh]

"Mm-maybe," Fred offers in response to the compliment, unable to hide his reddening face. "W-w-houldn't count on it though. I'm not s-so good at explaining myself."

He sighs. "H-I can only a-haffect my light cone though. Can't w-worry too much about when I'm gone, or I'll mm-miss what I h-have left." A soft smile comes to his face, as the words almost unbidden come to his speech, something he didn't really know he believed until this moment. Maybe he wasn't as bad as he made himself out to be.

"Wh-h-what's the s*** that h-happened at home? Is your f-family okay? Are you?"

And, there it is. You were on such a roll with that wise professorish comment. Could you be any more blunt and awkward?

[moonfly7]

John sighs, this, this was not the night he had expected, or even wanted if he was honest. But... well he had to admit it felt good to talk to someone about all of this. Especially someone who wouldn't pity him for it, no doubt Meuler had his fair share of that and had found its taste to be bitter as well.

"Physically I'm fine. I wasn't even there when it happened, I was at school. Studying, like they had wanted me too." his eyes go far away for a second "It was a coincidence, a horrible one. They had just been about to move out of that old house, into somewhere smaller now that I was gone and Lila was off to college that summer. It would be just Mom, and Dad, and Carl. No need for a big house right?" his voice cracks just the smallest bit and he shakes his head, anger in his voice now instead of sadness

"One more D*** week and they wouldn't have been there. Just one more week. But they were, they were in that thrice D***ed house when everything happened. Cops said it was a gangwar. With some supers thrown in on both sides."

He looks Dr. Meuler in the eyes, and he sees them burning with rage, before his former student manages to wrangle it.

"My family was collateral damage. Collateral damage, thats what they called me losing my entire family. And you know what the worst part was? There were Heros on the scene, they could've bee moving rubble, getting my family out, fighting those dirt bags off. But they didn't, they were "Securing the Perimeter". Bull****. I-"

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head, wipng the sweat off his brow.

"Sorry Professor, I kinda went off there for a moment. It's just-I haven't talked about this. At all. So it's still a bit fresh, and I doubt you wanted the full dissertation. But thank you for asking, and listening. I-I think I needed that."

[Breitheamh]

Fred's eyebrows raise at John's vehement rage. It was just a moment, and most people might not have noticed it, or written it off as simply the emotional state of a man grieving. But Fred knew those eyes. More importantly, Quantum knew those eyes. They were the same ones that stared back at him from the mirror as he donned his balaclava at night. The same eyes that raged against the dying of the light, and would no longer go gentle into that good night.

He didn't know why he hadn't seen it before, probably just hadn't been expecting it, but now he realized that John was wearing something he had never seen before underneath his clothes. A suit of some kind of impossibly structured steel, and some piece of material that was made of...what?

"Mmr. Wallbrink," he says, more confidently than he had seemed a moment ago, and returns the look into John's eyes, that same barely contained rage flashing behind his own face, "You n-need not explain yourself to mme, Mr. Wallbrink. H-I understand completely.

Will you w-walk with me?"

He quickly picks out the area of the building with the most privacy without turning his head and gestures in that direction in the most welcoming way he can.

[moonfly7]

"Um-sure?"
He's not exactly sure what's going on but he does have some amount of trust for Dr.Meuler.

[Breitheamh]

Fred leads his former student away from the crowd, toward a currently unused portion of the function hall. He extends his field of view 360 degrees around himself, ensuring that no one is within distance to eavesdrop, listening as well for any radio signals that might bely sound recording equipment.

Feeling secure in the seclusion, he coughs into his handkerchief, ignoring the red flecks on the off-white fabric. "Y-you plan on doing something ab-about it, don't you?" he asks pointedly."Justice? Or revenge?"

[moonfly7]

"What, No! why would you think that?."


[roll0]


His lie is obviously horrible, he knows it, and John knows it, his hand creeps toward his glaive.

[Breitheamh]

Fred puts up his hands in what he hopes is a disarming gesture.

"I-h-hit's okay. Y-you don't have to l-l-lie to me. I see that same l-look in your eye every time I look in a mm-mirror.

B-but I still want to know; justice or-r r-revenge? It m-means the difference between someone I will st-s-stop, and someone I'll help."

[MrAbdiel]

They'd laughed a little, though in truth there was a worn, hollowness to the humor. Chicago -was- often enough afflicted by what seemed like more than its share of evil. The local heroes did their best, but they were restrained in ways that made sense most of the time, and caused bitterness and grief in a non-trivial number of cases. Crime surged, and the forces of order felt powerless to effectively oppose them.

The spirit of Capone slipped ineffably through the streets, rewarding the wicked, afflicting the good. Metaphorically, of course.

She let a sense of tiredness drag the corners of her smile down into a faint shadow of itself. The sound of distant sirens drifted through the air; and she knew somewhere in the city people were hurting and getting hurt. She sighed, and rubbed the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger; commenting out of the settled quiet between her and Ray.

"Sounds like a competing headline. I can't remember the last night I spend in this city where I didn't hear at least one set of sirens. God help us."

[moonfly7]

Fred puts up his hands in what he hopes is a disarming gesture.

"I-h-hit's okay. Y-you don't have to l-l-lie to me. I see that same l-look in your eye every time I look in a mm-mirror.

B-but I still want to know; justice or-r r-revenge? It m-means the difference between someone I will st-s-stop, and someone I'll help."

He stops and looks his old professor dead in the eyes

"Justice." he spits "I'm going to bring the justice those buffons that call themselves heros never would."

[AvatarVecna]

Penny arrives a bit late, but tries to not let it get to her. Job's more important than some smartie-pants circle jerk where everybody else is showing off their accomplishments while she's still working towards making something of herself. Her eyes scanned the room for threats by instinct at this point, just part of the jobs lately. Security work paid the bills but it was generally boring...and doing it right meant being constantly on high alert for if something was about to go down. It wasn't very mentally healthy, but she refused to do the job halfway.

If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to know if Penny gets an idea of how dangerous the others in the room are.

[Ameraaaaaa]

They'd laughed a little, though in truth there was a worn, hollowness to the humor. Chicago -was- often enough afflicted by what seemed like more than its share of evil. The local heroes did their best, but they were restrained in ways that made sense most of the time, and caused bitterness and grief in a non-trivial number of cases. Crime surged, and the forces of order felt powerless to effectively oppose them.

The spirit of Capone slipped ineffably through the streets, rewarding the wicked, afflicting the good. Metaphorically, of course.

She let a sense of tiredness drag the corners of her smile down into a faint shadow of itself. The sound of distant sirens drifted through the air; and she knew somewhere in the city people were hurting and getting hurt. She sighed, and rubbed the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger; commenting out of the settled quiet between her and Ray.

"Sounds like a competing headline. I can't remember the last night I spend in this city where I didn't hear at least one set of sirens. God help us."

Ray simply spoke in a manner of a man who is also tired of the cities bull****. But with the slight tone of someone who was forced to deal with it rather then actually wishing to do so.


"That's life here. Bad stuff just happens here."


He'd crack a joke but felt that it was not an appropriate time and place right now.

[JNAProductions]

Penny is the last to arrive. The first speaker steps up to the stage and clears his throat. Most of the crowd starts to file into seats in the auditorium, though a few linger.

"Good day to all!" he says over the microphone as the stragglers find their seats. "I would like to welcome you to-" he says, but is cut off as the microphone shorts out. You see some confusion cross his face as he tries to figure out the issue. The lights then cut out.

You hear an announcement boom from around you. "Good day to all indeed! Professor Birch-I know you're here. Surrender yourself if you want to see your Mensa friends make it out alive!"

The emergency lights flicker on, and you see armed goons now standing at the doorways. They've got guns and black-painted riot gear.

[moonfly7]

John immediatly becomes alert, and moves towards an unoccupied alcove, pulling open his shirt and discarding it as he pulls his mask-crafted from a repurposed shovel-over his face. He rips off his tear away pants to reveal his metal greaves and full body armor.
He scans the area for the threat, eyes pouring over every one in the area.


Perception Check
[roll0]

[AvatarVecna]

Penny ducks around a corner unnoticed and does a few...touch ups. Her glasses become a mask, and she's even good enough to keep the eyepieces prescription. Her jacket changes color. Her tennis shoes become combat boots, which give her almost an extra inch of height. She emerges as Scramble.

[Breitheamh]

He stops and looks his old professor dead in the eyes

"Justice." he spits "I'm going to bring the justice those buffons that call themselves heros never would."

As he sees back the way they had come the crowd filling into the auditorium, Fred quickly writes down a number on the back of his program and tears off the piece. "Call this n-number if you w-want to talk more. I-h-I think we can help each other," he says as he hands John the number and then heads back to the crowd.


** A short time later **

Fred quickly scans the entire building for enemies, allies, and exits as the goons surround the auditorium.

Perception (my vision Penetrates Concealment so I should be able to see through solid objects, Counters Concealment of all kinds, so I should be able to see normally in darkness and other issues, Counters Illusion just in case these are illusions, which I doubt. My vision is also radial, so I should be able to see in every direction at once without turning my head, I can see 1000 feet away as if it were 10 feet, I can see heat signatures using infrared. I think those should be all the relevant effects here.)
[roll0]
(Oh! And also rapid, so I can see perceive things 10x faster than normal, in case there might be any speedsters running around.)

Also, I'll go ahead and throw an Investigation check on these goons [roll1] and Professor Birch due to the Well-Informed advantage.

Let me know what I find. :smallbiggrin:

[MrAbdiel]

Standing at the main entrance, Sister Dahlia clocks Penny making her way into the event a little late, but not dramatically so. No harm done, and she was here before the introductions officially began. "There's the other half of the security detail," she notes to Ray as she begins to pivot back in toward the auditorium, "so I dare say we're safe to proceed. I'd better head back in. Have a good-"

Then the lights cut out. Then the emergencies on. And in the nine seconds it took for the faceless ransomer to call out Professer Birch, both of the security guards have disappeared. Wherever the young woman went, she has no clue; but the man with whom she was having a cordial chat just moments ago had melted away into the dark leaving her awkwardly half-pivoted away from the entrance, frozen in scene assessment, in time for a cluster of armed and armored goons to be clogging that doorway.

She raises her hands to indicate an unwillingness to fight, and tries to appeal to their reason.

"What are you doing? Who are you people? This is a peaceful gathering of luminaries, you don't need to swing those -weapons- around. For heaven's sake, what is this about?"

Standing at the main entrance, Sister Dahlia clocks Penny making her way into the event a little late, but not dramatically so. No harm done, and she was here before the introductions officially began. "There's the other half of the security detail," she notes to Ray as she begins to pivot back in toward the auditorium, "so I dare say we're safe to proceed. I'd better head back in. Have a good-"

Then the lights cut out. Then the emergencies on. And in the nine seconds it took for the faceless ransomer to call out Professor Birch, both of the security guards have disappeared. Wherever the young woman went, she has no clue; but the man with whom she was having a cordial chat just moments ago had melted away into the dark leaving her awkwardly half-pivoted away from the entrance, frozen in scene assessment, in time for a cluster of armed and armored goons to be clogging that doorway.

Ahahahaha! Amazing! Oh, Dahlia, don't act so shocked. You were just saying how wretched the city has become, after all.
The enforcers have slunk away, though to escape or regroup we cannot know. But I am ready, if you need me.
I wouldn't say no to a little airtime; but the room is being watched by a cohort of jackboots with riot guns. Anything you do to provoke is going to get people shot. And Professor Birch is probably a **** anyway. Discretion, valor, etcetera.

She raises her hands to indicate an unwillingness to fight, and tries to appeal to their reason.

Well, gun toting goons are famously reasonable.

"What are you doing? Who are you people? This is a peaceful gathering of luminaries, you don't need to swing those -weapons- around. For heaven's sake, what is this about?"


Dahlia is trying mostly to bring the encounter with the goons nearest to her down from the tenor of "kick in the door and run roughshod over everyone" to a more reasonable "negotiation from a position of power." Secondarily, she's trying to convince them to waste time talking to her rather than immediately executing whatever plan they're involved in.

Persuasion roll: [roll0]

[moonfly7]

John creeps up towards the nearest interlopers, a vial of Slow-Silver in his hand. Ready to stick the first man to the floor the moment it's necassary.

Stealth
[roll0]

[JNAProductions]

John immediatly becomes alert, and moves towards an unoccupied alcove, pulling open his shirt and discarding it as he pulls his mask-crafted from a repurposed shovel-over his face. He rips off his tear away pants to reveal his metal greaves and full body armor.
He scans the area for the threat, eyes pouring over every one in the area.


Perception Check
[roll0]


You spot eight goons, but nobody who looks more of a serious threat. They're in groups of two each, at the egresses.

The goons spot John, and you hear them muttering some cusses as they start to train their guns on him.


Penny ducks around a corner unnoticed and does a few...touch ups. Her glasses become a mask, and she's even good enough to keep the eyepieces prescription. Her jacket changes color. Her tennis shoes become combat boots, which give her almost an extra inch of height. She emerges as Scramble.

Another pair of goons see Scramble, and soon, two guns are pointed at her.


As he sees back the way they had come the crowd filling into the auditorium, Fred quickly writes down a number on the back of his program and tears off the piece. "Call this n-number if you w-want to talk more. I-h-I think we can help each other," he says as he hands John the number and then heads back to the crowd.


** A short time later **

Fred quickly scans the entire building for enemies, allies, and exits as the goons surround the auditorium.

Perception (my vision Penetrates Concealment so I should be able to see through solid objects, Counters Concealment of all kinds, so I should be able to see normally in darkness and other issues, Counters Illusion just in case these are illusions, which I doubt. My vision is also radial, so I should be able to see in every direction at once without turning my head, I can see 1000 feet away as if it were 10 feet, I can see heat signatures using infrared. I think those should be all the relevant effects here.)
[roll0]
(Oh! And also rapid, so I can see perceive things 10x faster than normal, in case there might be any speedsters running around.)

Also, I'll go ahead and throw an Investigation check on these goons [roll1] and Professor Birch due to the Well-Informed advantage.

Let me know what I find. :smallbiggrin:

He sees the eight goons, in four pairs of two at the entrances. He also sees a lanky, eight-foot tall wolfman hiding around the corner of the main entrance, ready to spring. There's a megaphone next to the wolfman, on the ground.
The goons are not notable.
The wolfman is unknown, with that roll.
Birch is a talented professor of biology, astronomy, and many other fields. He was the keynote speaker today.


Standing at the main entrance, Sister Dahlia clocks Penny making her way into the event a little late, but not dramatically so. No harm done, and she was here before the introductions officially began. "There's the other half of the security detail," she notes to Ray as she begins to pivot back in toward the auditorium, "so I dare say we're safe to proceed. I'd better head back in. Have a good-"

Then the lights cut out. Then the emergencies on. And in the nine seconds it took for the faceless ransomer to call out Professer Birch, both of the security guards have disappeared. Wherever the young woman went, she has no clue; but the man with whom she was having a cordial chat just moments ago had melted away into the dark leaving her awkwardly half-pivoted away from the entrance, frozen in scene assessment, in time for a cluster of armed and armored goons to be clogging that doorway.

She raises her hands to indicate an unwillingness to fight, and tries to appeal to their reason.

"What are you doing? Who are you people? This is a peaceful gathering of luminaries, you don't need to swing those -weapons- around. For heaven's sake, what is this about?"

Standing at the main entrance, Sister Dahlia clocks Penny making her way into the event a little late, but not dramatically so. No harm done, and she was here before the introductions officially began. "There's the other half of the security detail," she notes to Ray as she begins to pivot back in toward the auditorium, "so I dare say we're safe to proceed. I'd better head back in. Have a good-"

Then the lights cut out. Then the emergencies on. And in the nine seconds it took for the faceless ransomer to call out Professor Birch, both of the security guards have disappeared. Wherever the young woman went, she has no clue; but the man with whom she was having a cordial chat just moments ago had melted away into the dark leaving her awkwardly half-pivoted away from the entrance, frozen in scene assessment, in time for a cluster of armed and armored goons to be clogging that doorway.

Ahahahaha! Amazing! Oh, Dahlia, don't act so shocked. You were just saying how wretched the city has become, after all.
The enforcers have slunk away, though to escape or regroup we cannot know. But I am ready, if you need me.
I wouldn't say no to a little airtime; but the room is being watched by a cohort of jackboots with riot guns. Anything you do to provoke is going to get people shot. And Professor Birch is probably a **** anyway. Discretion, valor, etcetera.

She raises her hands to indicate an unwillingness to fight, and tries to appeal to their reason.

Well, gun toting goons are famously reasonable.

"What are you doing? Who are you people? This is a peaceful gathering of luminaries, you don't need to swing those -weapons- around. For heaven's sake, what is this about?"


Dahlia is trying mostly to bring the encounter with the goons nearest to her down from the tenor of "kick in the door and run roughshod over everyone" to a more reasonable "negotiation from a position of power." Secondarily, she's trying to convince them to waste time talking to her rather than immediately executing whatever plan they're involved in.

Persuasion roll: [roll0]



"We want Birch. Hand him over, no one else gets hurt," the nearby goons tell Dahlia.


John creeps up towards the nearest interlopers, a vial of Slow-Silver in his hand. Ready to stick the first man to the floor the moment it's necassary.

Stealth
[roll0]


[roll0]

[Ameraaaaaa]

Ray gritted his teeth and hid in the broom closet until he can change into his balaclava mask and remove his shirt to hide his identity. Revealing his red dragon tattoo on his slightly pale skin. The tattoo is actually a mark of the dragon that made him a hero all those years ago.

He ran back out then pulled out his shotgun and attempts to shoot a slug shot into 1 of the goons.


I assume it makes sense that ray prepared for danger in a supervillain filled Chicago in a security job. I'm not gonna metagame. I'm just gonna go for what ray generally prepares for now since he had no idea which criminals/villains would even attack a mensa. If at all. this is his default basically.

Also these can be worked around easily enough i think. Like for example immunity to fire doesn't mean immunity to a burning building falling on you due to the support pillars turning to ashs.

Anyways here's what he is currently immune to these effects (using the immunity power in the book to know what each immunity costs.)

Entrapment (grabbing, snares, or bonds) [5 points] ray doesn't want to be captured or placed in a death trap.

Bullets [5 points] guns are a criminals best friend so best be prepared.

Any effects with either the fire or electricity descriptors [20 points 10 each] relatively common power types.

Bludgeoning effects [20 points due to being extremely common] super strength is extremely common and many melee weapons are bludgeoning.

That's all 50 points ray has available.

[MrAbdiel]

With two gunmen at the door and little capacity to reason with them, Dahlia takes on an exasperated look.

And then shots start to ring out, and the chaos of a gunfight in a crowded room cannot be far behind. Looking not a whit like any kind of threat, the sister throws herself to the ground by the wall and covers her head. It's become absolutely disastrous absolutely instantly, but she cannot risk engaging her unorthodox options while they're still trained on her - that's a short road to buckshot city, not to mention the untenable circumstance of having witnesses to her secret. Instead she grits her teeth, makes herself seem small, and keeps her eyes peeking up for the goons to, in all likelihood, go charging off after the gunfire.

Initiative: [roll0]
Action: Ready an action to use Metamorph, when there are no immediate eyes on her.

[moonfly7]

Foundry immediatly shoves his vial of slow silver into his belt when he's spotted, and fully extends the handle of his Glaive. No time for quiet now, hit them hard and fast and pray that his armor holds up to high calliber guns.

he moves quickly and jabs his Glaive into the first guard he can reach, knowing that the blade should be able to pierce any dinky body armor the gunman is wearing.


Attacking with Brinkstel Glaive:

[roll0]

Notes: Glaive crits on a 16-20, glaive deals 5 ranks of damage on a hit(So DC 20), and has both the reach and penetrating features, meaning I'm currently 10 feet away, and the blade will ignore up to 5 ranks of impervious toughness if they have it.
If it crits on anything but a 20 I get the effects of a crit but no the auto hit.
If this attack takes this guy down, then I can move and attack again as part of my Takedown advantage.
Rinse and repeat until I stop defeating goons this turn or I run out of goons to defeat this turn.

[JNAProductions]

The goons near to Scramble take aim with their guns and shoot a small burst at her, as they notice the presence of her masked form. "The hell?" one of them lets out as he shoots.

[roll0]
[roll1]

DC 18 for each one.

[Breitheamh]

Guess I'm gonna have to bring my balaclava with me everywhere from now on, Fred thinks to himself as he disappears from his seat in the auditorium, hoping that the confusion at the entrance and the dimness of the emergency lights will cover him, and reappears in the nearest bathroom.

He pulls his shirt off and ties it up completely around his head to hide who he is, while mentally congratulating himself on his insecurities saving the day, as he had decided to wear his light kevlar vest to the meeting to make himself look a little less skinny.

Using a Move Action to teleport to the nearest unoccupied bathroom and (hopefully?) a Standard Action to tie his shirt around his head as a makeshift mask. He can see through it thanks to his powers, but nobody else ought to be able to.

[AvatarVecna]

Scramble sprays some shots at the two thugs nearest her

Machine Pistol (Multiattack/Multiple Targets):
Thug 1: [roll0], DC 18 on hit
Thug 2: [roll1], DC 18 on hit

If they're still up and able to actually take shots at her still:
Toughness: [roll2]
Toughness: [roll3]

[JNAProductions]

Scramble's bursts go wide as the goons duck and cover.

The goons by Dahlia mutter something quietly into their lapels, and keep themselves steady, but don't fire.

Meanwhile, the ones nearest Foundry take aim at the metalworker and fire.

[roll0]
[roll1]
DC 18 on each.

And remind me, OOC, what actions have already been declared with their rolls, please.

[MrAbdiel]

Gunshots are ringing out, and the henchmen at the door aren’t budging. The time is now for great risks; or else to live with heaped shame.

Dahlia tracks her eyes to behind the goons and lets out a melodramatic gasp, as if something terrible and violent threatens them from behind. Then she fires up to her feet, cursing her heels within, and flees out the door and around the corner.

Dahlia is going to bluff to turn their eyes away ([roll0]). Then whether or not she succeeds, she’s fleeing out the entrance trusting that either her deception or the sliver of decency in these goons hearts will prevent them from shotgunning her in the spine as she runs. I’ll describe the free action to transform when I’m not typing on my phone!)

[JNAProductions]

Dahlia rounds the bend as the goons are distracted (if but for a moment) and sees a lanky, 8' tall wolfman. He seems rather surprised to see her as well.

[moonfly7]

As the first goon falls Foundry is already pulling his blade from the first goon and spinning into a second strike at the next one before they can get more shots off.

[roll0]

[Ameraaaaaa]

The shotgun slug blasts 1 of the goons hard enough to ko him.

[moonfly7]

Moving past the two downed goons on his side, foundry dashes to aide the seemingly civilian Dahlia.

"RUN!"
He cries to her as his first strike slides in gracefully at the first goon.

[roll0]

toughness check for guard:

[roll1]

[JNAProductions]

The remaining conscious goon by Tough Guy aims his gun at the shotgun-wielding hero, and fires.

[roll0]
DC 18 on a hit.

While the ones by Scramble continue to attempt to take her down.

[roll1]
[roll2]
DC 18 on a hit.

They all look quite on edge-they didn't expect this much resistance.

[AvatarVecna]

Scramble continues trying to clip the goons with some spray n pray, before trying to take cover behind anything that's handy.

Toughness from me: [roll0]

Multiattack, same as last time:

Thug 1:
----Attack: [roll1]
----Toughness DC 18 (DC 23 on crit): [roll2]

Thug 2:
----Attack: [roll3]
----Toughness DC 18 (DC 23 on crit): [roll4]

[JNAProductions]

One goon goes down. One more from her group stands.

You can tell these goons were not ready for a fight like this. If someone wants to make an Intimidation attempt or similar, you could end the fight now.

[MrAbdiel]

A beast! A… werewolf, even! She’d read the old accounts - St. Mercurio and his Cunocephali - but never imagined she would see one in person, much less one apparently leading an abduction. But amazing and frightful as the creature was, there was still gunfire going off in a room full of her colleagues, and the time for her careful extraction was long past. She fled past the wolf man, trusting he would not divert from his mission to chase one fleeing civilian, and rounded the corner of the building at a full ball-footed sprint. And the very second she thought she was out of sight, she closed her eyes as if in prayer.

But not to heaven.

* * * * *

On the other side of the building, from one of the high glass windows kept shut against the Chicago night, came a musical, manic laughter that was likely lost in the sound of gunfire… until it wasn’t. Red and black exploded through the glass, blurred through the room, and slammed down into a gargoylish perch on the oaken lectern from which the speakers might have on a quieter night made more peaceful proclamations.

In the chaos, there was no time to really appreciate the majesty or detail of her form. What mattered is that she was a demon - no questions about it, with red skin and horns and leathery wings on whose power she entered like a cannonball from hell. In one hand she cracked a black thorned whip, and then from full black lips she let out such a howl of anticipated cruelty that no human throat might match. It was inarticulate, but she whispered a translation afterward into the microphone.

“Run.”

Free action to Metamorph into Jezebel
Move action to Fly-5 to circle around and smash through a window cinematically
Standard Action to intimidate (Routine: DC20)

And a D20 roll for the mooks, in case the GM wants it: 1d20. And I guess one for the crowd of civilians? 1d20 but I'm pretty sure they were maximum scared anyway.

Edit: Oh yeah, you can't edit in rolls. Lol.

[JNAProductions]

The goons seem to have hit their limit. They start moving back, away from the auditorium, leaving their knocked-out comrades behind. The wolf, to anyone who can see or hear, growls. He grabs the megaphone and shouts "You won't get away forever, Birch! I will find you!"

Let me know, here or in the OOC, if you wish to give chase, or assess the situation here more. But, this encounter is victorious.

[moonfly7]

Foundry hesitates for a moment, torn between pursuit and helping the guards he's injured. He curses his own morals, because despite his hatred of criminals, they dont deserve to die. Better to make sure that every one here is unharmed and receives medical attention.

[Ameraaaaaa]

Ray was glad the the wolf man and his gang ran away. Both because he did not prepare an immunity to claws and also the much more important reason that it meant the civilians were safe.

It then occurred to ray that perhaps working with these people would be fruitful. Who knows. They might save the world one day. Ray stifled a laugh at that thought. God why did that dragon get him in this mess.

Resting his shotgun at his shoulder he spoke up "soooo. Looks like we did a good job saving these civilians. Sooooooooo.... what about we form a team. I know it's probably sudden but even if that's not on the table it's probably a sensible idea to work together on taking on the wolf man. At least until then since we might be the only people who know of his existence. So what do ya guys say?"

[MrAbdiel]

“Straight to ‘let’s team up’? Come now, warrior. Put a little romance into the pitch if you’re not going to buy a girl dinner first.”

Jezebel performs a needless little somersault as she descends from the lectern, and swans over to Tough Guy, pausing before him to rake him over with half-lidded eyes that radiate mischief and invitation. She extends a hand to brush a little smear of residue off his chest where a goon’s bullets had deflected off him. She looks up to make sure the civvies are huddling and attending each other before turning her penetrating pearly gaze on the other heroes.

“Actually, let’s do dinner. All of us. We can arrange that in a moment, but we’ve got about thirty seconds before the sirens get here. So any of you who might want to be here without a mask on, and who might need to account for their activities, might want to come over here.”

She gestures closer to herself, for a heroic huddle. Her grin is entirely unwholesome, even if she seems to be on the side of the angels, so to speak.

“Let me look after you, dears.”

Jezebel, while flirting brazenly with literally all four of her potential allies, will use her routine deception of 20 to help fabricate cover stories for those who vanished from the party only to return as capes. This will be more effective if they divulge their identities, but for the reticent, sheÂ’ll offer a string of generic ideas that avoid conflict with the facts and that are likely to slip buy the instincts of the cops taking reports after the fact.

Of course, she doesn’t need to divulge her hostess’s identity. She might save that for dinner.

[moonfly7]

"I say I know almost none of you, and that at least two of you sprayed bullets in a room full of civilians. What is this, Punisher Wannabe reunion night? You unloaded with a shotgun loaded with buckshot." He says pointing at tough guy, before turning his gaze on Scramble.

"And you open fired with a semi-automatic in a crowded room. The fact that no one actually got hurt is down to luck just as much as skill. Now, credit where credit is due, Machine-pistol girl over here at least hit every single one of her targets with no spatter in other directions. But you used a shotgun, if you had gotten the tiniest bit unlucky your spray could have ricocheted and hit a hostage. What is this, your first night fighting around civilians? You got a grenade in that coat you wish you had used instead?"

I apologise for Foundry's overly critical response right out of the gate, the man is quick to judge and quick to anger when it involves people he percieves as being "reckless heros". Its one of his main flaws I listed in his character sheet. Despite the fact that I think you guys did great, he's gonna over react a bit. Just remember it's him and not me.

[moonfly7]

He shakes his head to clear it for a moment.

"That being said, were 5 wannabe heroes all in the same place at the same time. ANd that Wolf-Man thing just got away, and I'm willing to bet we're the only ones who'll do jack about it. So yeah, I guess I'll be up for "dinner".

[Breitheamh]

At this point, with the fight winding down and panicked civilians either hiding or running away, a short-statured figure suddenly appears among the group, a shirt tied haphazardly around his face, and picks up one of the guns that the goons had been firing. He chambers a round and attempts a terse quip, having not heard any of what the other vigilantes had said, but, well, given his stutter...

"Wh-h-h-one g-got away," and then disappears again, reappearing down the street in the direction that the wolfman is heading, about 70 feet away from the fleeing would-be abductor. He takes aim and fires.

It will take Fred two rounds to do all this, and if there any height vantage points along the road the wolfman is heading down, like a second or third floor balcony or overhang, he will teleport to that, keeping enough distance that he's reasonably certain the wolfman will not be able to reach him after his first shot. This also depends on the wolfman not being able to make it too far away after he starts running. Fred can only teleport 250 feet, so if he's much farther than that, I might do differently, and Fred should be able to keep track of him relatively easily, with his ridiculous vision and distance sense. He needs to be 1000 feet away before I take any penalties to see him with perception.

Perception [roll0]

Attack [roll1]

DC: 18 on a hit

[roll2]

[JNAProductions]

Quantum is able to keep pace with the Wolfman for a bit, but his shots aren't lined up right. The Wolfman, realizing he's still being hunted, grabs a civilian who's too slow to make it away. "He'll live if you go!" he shouts.


Inside the auditorium, the lights are still out. The crowd is starting to pick themselves up, talking amongst themselves. A few phones come out, dialing the police. As this happens, a tall, brown-skinned man approaches you all, seemingly not particularly concerned about the events. "I see we've some heroes about-might be wise to make your escape before the police arrive. Though, when you do... Perhaps take me with? I am Professor Birch-and I believe you just saved my life. I can explain-I think-what the issue is."

[moonfly7]

"The professor's right, we need to get out of here now, or at least get into less incriminating attire. There's a diner on 4th and main, Moe's. It's deserted this time of night. Meet there in say, 2 hours after the cops let us all go?"

[JNAProductions]

Birch frowns. "I wouldn't wait for the cops to take your statements-they'd be as likely to put you behind bars as anything else."

Remember-government is corrupt, here in Chicago.

[moonfly7]

"I don't plan on hanging out for the cops in this hooligan suit, doc." he shrugs and turns to leave

"If any of you really want to meet up for whatever the hell this is, diner. 2 hours from now."

And with that the Foundry dashes out, ducking into an abandoned corner and changing back into his regular outfit, to await giving his terrified testament to the cops as Jonathan when they finally arrive.

I know they're corrupt, I meant that as victims we'd need to give our statements, but obviously I don't want to outright say that in front of the professor. Although really, does he think it's a big ol'coincidence we just all happened to be here at this highly unimportant meeting?

[Ameraaaaaa]

Ray was somewhat annoyed at the glave welding fellow was making him look like a idiot.


"Sure. Dinner with a demon. Just don't steal my soul or anything ok. Oh and mister glave guy. I was using slugs shot not spread shot. But point taken."



Ready for the next scene. Whether that's in the diner or whatever. However i do not mind more time in this scene. Just announcing that I'm fine moving to the next scene whenever the others are ready.

[Breitheamh]

Quantum is able to keep pace with the Wolfman for a bit, but his shots aren't lined up right. The Wolfman, realizing he's still being hunted, grabs a civilian who's too slow to make it away. "He'll live if you go!" he shouts.

The part of Quantum that relishes his nightly activities, the part that he tries to only let out in small doses, contemplates for a moment, and then the hero retains control and lowers the gun.

Instead of shooting, he opts to try to commit as much of the Wolfman's DNA sequence to memory as he can, waiting for the hostage-taker to hold to his word.

I don't know if it would be Perception, Investigation, Science Expertise, Medicine Expertise, or Treatment to do what I just said, so I'm just gonna roll a D20 and you tell me which bonus I should apply.

[roll0]

[JNAProductions]

The Wolfman flees with his hostage. When he thinks he's out of sight, he shoves the civilian to the ground, and continues his escape.

Call it Medicine Expertise for this roll.

[Breitheamh]

Quantum watches for a moment, then ports over to the civilian and asks, "A-h-are you ok-kay?"

As he's waiting for a response he begins deftly dismantling the weapon in his hands and stuffing the different pieces into hiding places on his person.

I have Skill Mastery in technology, so I'll just take a 22 on the check to take apart the pistol, and then I guess I'll need a Sleight of Hand to hide the pieces?
[roll0]

[MrAbdiel]

Later at Moe’s

A greasy spoon like any other, the diner was deserted as advertised. The proprietor - Moe, presumably - busied himself in the back while the one booth sat slowly accumulating its fate, as a table for six.

The woman - Jezebel - was unmistakably the demoness of before, once they looked for it; though sans horns, tail, wings et al, and with the addition of healthy tan skin and a generally pleasing human array of coloration and style, she had obviated any need for mortal panic or theological shock.

“I submit that was the most exciting a MENSA meeting has ever been.”

[JNAProductions]

"You might be surprised," Birch says. "I hear that once capes started appearing, Mensa had a brief period of tumult where it was actually exciting."

[Ameraaaaaa]

Tough guy responded quite simply "honestly I'd prefer if it was less exciting. Would mean both less work and more importantly less risk to civilian life. But well here we are. Ain't life a kick in the ass."

[moonfly7]

"Yeah, until all the super geniuses realised outing themselves publicly wasn't the best career move." John says with a short
"not that any of us can talk, I suppose."

[moonfly7]

Tough guy responded quite simply "honestly I'd prefer if it was less exciting. Would mean both less work and more importantly less risk to civilian life. But well here we are. Ain't life a kick in the ass."

"I'll drink to that" John says, Downing his 5th coffee that night in one gulp.

[MrAbdiel]

“So, Doctor Birch. Do you feel like explaining why a werewolf wants you so badly he’s try to kidnap you, and damn the collateral?”

Jezebel’s question is fairly direct, but notably just assumes a supernatural explanation for the creature. The idea that it might be something other than a werewolf seems not to interest her.

[Breitheamh]

After ensuring the hostage was okay, Quantum had returned to the scene, palms sweaty as always, and attempted to find a place to hide and change back to his normal self. As soon as he does so, he pulls out his handkerchief and has a short coughing fit, trying to ignore the taste and smell of copper in his mouth; he's used to that by now, and prepares himself as best he can to talk to the police.

But as soon as he gets out front, his former student catches him and whisks him away, explaining quickly what had transpired, with the demoness using whatever charms she seems to possess to smooth talk the police out of looking too far into the 5 masks that helped prevent tragedy, and the agreement to meet up at Moe's.

Later that day...

Fred sat at the corner of the table out of habit, always used to being pushed to the fringes of whatever group he might find himself in. While the others busied themselves in conversation, he had a mess of napkins next to his untouched food which he was using to write down the DNA sequence he'd seen in the wolfman and search it for any identifying irregularities or other things he could use to identify and track this dangerous creature. The gun would have to wait until he could get to a more secure location.

He keeps one ear open to the discourse, and a somewhat subconscious snorts emits from his nose when he hears the term "werewolf." He quickly wipes up the minuscule flecks of red it had left on the table and tries to refocus on his investigation.

He had a few guesses why Birch would be a target of something that seemed like a biological nightmare, but he figured he'd let the Professor answer for himself.

[JNAProductions]

"The 'werewolf', as you say, is most likely Davis Tokky. As you may or may not know," Birch starts, "I'm highly invested in various different fields of research. Part of the research includes sub-dimensional biological alterations. In simpler terms-though this is really just a precaution, as you're all quite bright people-our universe is not the only one. It is possible to set up... A certain resonance with other dimensions, to alter living things. Not dead matter-not yet, at least-but the effects on the living can be quite profound."

"Mr. Tokky was a minor criminal-robberies, a few armed assaults, one instance of automobile theft. He was also, before he graduated, a student of mine at the University of Chicago. I don't know what possessed him to call me for bail money, but I was willing to take a chance-some of my research has been quite successful, and I've the resources to spare. I took him to get cleaned up a bit, and offered him a chance to get back towards the right side of the law. I had been looking for volunteers for the sub-dimensional work, but without any luck. Plenty of interest, until they see all the waivers-it SHOULD be perfectly safe, but ultimately, we don't know. Davis decided to be the first."

"Once the forms were signed, and Davis was informed of all the potential risks, we set up the experiment. It worked. Davis was changed-now we just had to make sure it could be reversed. Davis, however... Did not take well to the change. He went on a rampage, destroying a lot of equipment and rendering it impossible to change him back. I evacuated the building, to make sure no one was hurt, and he fled. And now, it seems, he's got his own little gang, and is trying to reverse what could've been done if he had just stayed calm."

[moonfly7]

"that....that is a problem. People like that will always blame others for their troubles. And the fact that he failed tonight is going to make him rash and angry, and he's not going to just stop. Birch, your in danger. More now than before."
John looks over to where Quantum is sitting

"professor, you got the longest look at him out of all of us, and this extra dimensional stuff sounds like it lines up with some of your research. What do you think?"

[Breitheamh]

Fred's attention screeches into the conversation as John asks him his opinion...

People didn't usually ask his opinion, even colleagues...

The dark spots around his eyes accentuated by the sudden paling of his face, he swallows hard and attempts to engage the others with his expertise.

"Um, w-w-well you sss-ss-see, um," he fumbles his words as he looks around for the piece of napkin he'd noted it down on. Finding it, he holds it up and tries to explain, "Um, th-thissss sh-h-hould not be p-p-possible. At least, n-n-not with our c-current understanding of mmm-molecular biology or quantum physics."

The color begins to return to his face as he gets a little more comfortable with his words and his stutter relaxes. This is his expertise, his element. He knows this stuff better than almost anyone.

He gestures to a section of double helix that he had sketched out, and then to the closer look at it he had drawn and noted on another napkin. "Y-h-you see thisss s-section of DNA? I-h-hit's wrong! That!" he points to a tiny spot on it, barely noticeable to anyone without his visual capabilities. "Th-that is imm-mpossible. M-maybe you want to t-take a look, Professor?"

He hands the note in question to Birch as he finishes, saying finally, "I-hh-hI don't know exactly what it means, bbut it sh-shouldn't be possible."

He takes a moment, then realizes something, and has steel himself again to speak, "Uhh-hum, I do h-hhhave a question though. Hh-hwhat mmmakes you think he w-wants you to hh-hundo it? W-what if hhhe wants you to mmmake m-more of him?"

[JNAProductions]

"Precisely," Birch mutters a long with Fred. "Not possible at all-with our frame of reference."

When you mention the possibility that Davis wants more of him, rather than undoing it, Birch pauses. "I... I had not considered that. But now that you say it, it makes sense-he wasn't rich. I didn't pay him enough to hire criminals on his own. But if he said he knew how to make them stronger... Do any of you have police connections? Could we find out what they were promised?"

[moonfly7]

"No official connections." john says with steepled fingers

"But Chicago PD has yet to create an effective counter to a blade that can cut through all of their locks. Although with all of us here, I imagine we can find a more subtle way in. Once were inside, well, we have among us 5 well spread out would be heroes. One of us is bound to be what puts the fear of god into one of those amateurs. Unless one of you actually does have some kind of connection, then I suggest we go with that."

[MrAbdiel]

"I would -love- to break forcefully into a police station and interrogate prisoners. But if we're hoping to get this information without making active enemies of Chicago's finest, it might be worth - Plan A - as the doctor suggests, using some legitimate connection if it's available or - Plan B - letting me try the old 'let me talk to my client' gambit. All it takes is couple of us to come in making requests about getting copies of our statements from earlier at the same time - overwhelming the desk sergeant - and they'll barely even question when a lawyer wants to see her clients in lockup. Corrupt cops are all about economy of effort, which is another way of saying sloth, and I - well, you get it."

She seems genuinely confident in her skills, and there's no reason to doubt them in this context - but there's no hiding the lilting, disconnected tone of her voice while engaging these topics of life, and death, and mad science and interdimensional werewolves. It's a game to her, though at least one she intends to win.

"If there's anything more you can tell us - what to expect when Tokky comes at us full force, and how to engage him - that would help a lot, Doctor. But we are going to need a little time to talk candidly and strategize. You know." She reaches smoothly over and places her hand delicately on Birch's risk, giving him an apologetic look. "Just the capes. Secrets and so forth. You understand."

That is to say, once Birch is done, Jezebel is trying to get some time for the heroes to talk and reveal what they are willing to about each other's powers and whatnot, so we're not in the dark about each other. I doubt Birch will object, but in case there's a persuasion effort required, I'll go with the 20 Routine, plus 5 if the Very Attractive advantage helps.

[JNAProductions]

"Honestly speaking? I don't know-physically, he's fast and tough, but I don't know how fast or how tough. Other resources he's accumulated are entirely beyond what I know," Birch says. "I'll wait by the bar, if you need to talk amongst yourselves."

[moonfly7]

"And what are we talking about, exactly? The man knows our identities, not sure what else he could learn that could hurt us. "

[MrAbdiel]

“Maybe he knows -your- identities. But there was no avoiding that. But he doesn’t know your powers, your moral limitations, your weaknesses, your secrets that allies ought to know. It’s alright. I can tell the deception inherent in the industry doesn’t come naturally to you.”

She glanced over one shapely shoulder to make sure Birch was at the bar around the bend of the L shaped room, and that the long suffering proprietor had gone over that way to serve him. Big brown eyes swing back across her new allies.

“I’m going to undergo a hideous transformation, now. Don’t be shocked.”

This of course was a lie. The transformation was quite understated, with a swirl of smoke sheeting closet over her skin and a flicker of light within, whipping away to reveal Dahlia in Jezebel’s place. Hair still in its sensible bun transfixed by a pair of pencils, the sister blinked as her senses reoriented themselves, and grimaced apologetically to her allies

“It’s… a complicated matter, in my case. One for detailed discussion some time if our group goes the distance. I suppose we don’t have the luxury of long preparation, if we’re hoping to interrogate the men before they’re moved out of police lockup into somewhere less penetrate. But first, did any of you take fire in the battle? Is anyone actually hurt?”

[moonfly7]

"I'm fine. Don't know about the others, but everybody looks ok. And as for the deception in the industry, I meant there's nothing he doesn't already know that I'm going to tell a room full of strangers. I barely know any of you accept the Professor. And no offense lady, but your literally a demon, that doesn't foster openness." "

[MrAbdiel]

“-I’m- not a demon; I’m just…” Dahlia sighs rubbing the heels of her palms into her tired blue eyes as she prepares to make a distinction she knows is meaningless to anyone in the room but her. “I’m just fused to one. And an angel. But I understand your reticence. I’ve just been avoiding this kind of activity for some time, and now that it’s fallen into my lap I want to do it right.” She sighs, and nudges the glass of wine that Jezebel has ordered away from herself, toward the table centre. Then she glances up at Foundry.

“I wanted to thank you, by the way. For seizing on the ones at the door while I fled. Your gallantry isn’t lost on me. So thank you.”

[moonfly7]

He shrugs.
"your welcome, I suppose. Sorry for making assumptions, your Situation is clearly complicated. And if it helps rangle your ideas that I'm "galant" I would have let you handle it if I had known you weren't a civilian. Still, happy to help."

He shakes his head and sighs, spitting out the tooth pick in his mouth.

"I suppose if we're all gonna work this together, you might as well know enough so that you don't have to constantly second guess if I need help. The armor you saw me in back there is pretty durable, without going into specifics of what it is I can tell you that it can take most bullets just fine. Most melee weapons too, a grenade or a IED might out some dents in it, but it's pretty solid. Not infallible, but I can take some hits in it. The glaive.... I can't tell you what it is. Because I don't know. Just assume that it can cut just about anything, and that it is not fun to be on the wrong end of."

[Ameraaaaaa]

Ray confidently says "well as for me I'm fine. Someone shot me but thanks to my ability I'm a-ok. Which btw is the ability to become immune to stuff by meditating. I only have so much enargy i can spare to become immune to but currently I'm immune to bullets snares grappling bindings fire electricity and bludgeoning attacks. Quite powerful i know. However i can't do it on the fly unfortunately. Anyways now you know why I'm known as tough guy.

[AvatarVecna]

Penny sips at her water bottle. "If he wants revenge cuz you screwed him up, and you can't change him back because the equipment got trashed...I could probably get him back to normal? Well, maybe, anyway."

[Breitheamh]

Fred raises an eyebrow at Dahlia's transformation. Seemed more like some kind of extra-dimensional simultaneous existence than the supernatural "demon" she seemed to think it was, but noting the rosary at her neck, he figures it's not worth an argument.

Instead, he takes a peek inside one of her cells and files away her DNA sequence to be researched later while the conversation continues around him. It would be useful to get a look at the two "others" that she explained were fused with her, but even he could only see so much at once.

Then once he's done, he figures, Why the hell not? and quickly studies the others at the table as well. If any of them were curious about the origins of their abilities, or the replication and increase of their power, he might be able to help this way. Or if any of them ever went bad it'd be nice to have a bank of data to use against them. Or if they were impersonated; useful to have some relatively infallible identification. His mind raced as quickly as usual, perhaps even a little quicker, feeling a sense of...lightness? He almost felt...comfortable here... Weird.

"Hh-h-I w-work best at a di-distance," he comments quietly. "I-h-h-I'm not so good with people a-h-h-and I c-can't take a punch. But I ss-see a lot."

Expertise Medicine again to commit everyone's DNA sequences to memory?

Dahlia: [roll0]
John: [roll1]
Ray: [roll2]
Penny: [roll3]

[MrAbdiel]

Sister Dahlia looks around the table, and sucks in a tentative breath though her nose.

“So… we’ll try to be subtle, and if that doesn’t work, we’ll try something else. We can’t let this lunatic do this again, or people will die. Are we… all in?”

[moonfly7]

"For now? Yeah. Count me in. This guy is a hazard to everyone around the professor and likely others so long as he's free, and I'm willing to bet good money the so called official "heroes" won't do anything about it, since it's not a high enough profile for them. ANd even if the cops do want too, they'd have trouble with the goons let alone the Wolf-man himself."

[Ameraaaaaa]

Ray gruffed out
"Well I'm in. Especially since I'm the one who suggested a team up. Not much else to say. Either we kick the werewolf's ass or we get the kicks of a lifetime. Either way someone is winning and someone else is losing. Let's just hope we're the former."

[moonfly7]

John nods.

"You know, I think I like your attitude." he says with a bob of his head and a viscious smile

"Lucky for us, despite whatever minions he can scrounge he's only one superhuman with what I'm assuming are enhanced physical skills and attributes. We're 5, and we cover a lot of bases.I think chances are good that if we can find him we can stop him, especially if we can get him away from hostages."

[JNAProductions]

Birch, when you give the signal, comes back. He hands you a note, with an address and phone number on there. "This is my home, here in Chicago. I can imagine I'd be better off in a hotel for the next few days, though. The number is my cell-you can call me and find out where I'm staying once you're ready."

[Breitheamh]

Fred waits for a long enough pause in the conversation that he might have time to get out a full thought, then offers it.

"H-hhI doubt this w-wolfman is h-h-where the chain ends. I-hif we stop him, w-w-we will likely h-have to deal with s-someone more powerful than him.

Ah-has for getting in to do our own ih-hinterviews with these thugs, hh-if I can get access to a network server, w-we shouldn't need to sneak anywhere."

[MrAbdiel]

The sister nod, and taps her lips with a thoughtful fingertip. "Alright. So we need to get to their hospital, find a console, access it unseen, get Fred close to discreetly peek at their incoming emergency patient records and plant a log of a request of legal counsel, and then hopefully Jezebel can contain herself long enough to bluff her way in and dupe some critical information out of them. And all that, without attracting attention to ourselves. I'll need to swing by my home to grab a suitable outfit, and someone should probably escort the Doctor to his temporary accomodations. But the nearest ER, I guess, is..."


---- St. Bernard's Hospital ----

Assembled in a dim corner of the underground car park, the reunited vigilantes confronted this bastion of modern medicine as their first obstacle assaulted as a team. Fitting, maybe, that St. Bernard was the patron of mountaineers, Dahlia thought. Working together with so many unknowns at such short notice is definitely fighting an uphill battle.

"There's a parking security attendant in his booth at the entrance. I don't know if the security terminals will be on another network, though. There will be plenty inside, certainly; but just about every inch of the building is going to be watched by security cameras once we move from here. Or... atleast the entrances. Someone could try to climb in an office window, or..."

She flinches a little, eyes darting left and right as she parses some internal dialogue with a keener mind for subterfuge.

"...Or one of us could shoot the other in the leg, and get in that way. It's certainly not the most suspicious way to get into a hospital."

[moonfly7]

"well, maybe not shot. But there are other ways in. I could hack the cameras but that's a similar problem to hacking the system. If we need to, you can just beat the hell out of me and then tough or scramble can take me in in a panic and say you think I have a concussion. Or I can get above the cameras and drip Slow Silver on them to freeze it. But that's certainly suspicious"

[MrAbdiel]

“You can BOTH hack? This changes everything. Fred, can you see the camera cables where they feed into the walls here? If we crack that open and one of you two patches in to disrupt the camera here in the car park, then Tough Guy and Scramble can get into a screaming fistfight over in view of the guards who will go to break it up. Then our second hacker ducks into the booth, accesses the main network, and we’re halfway home.”

The nun says this with the conviction of someone whose experience with hacking is entirely movie based. But she seems to think it’s a good plan - and one that’s only possible with all of them playing their part, while she slips inside to get Jezebel close enough to okay hers.

[moonfly7]

"Probably should have mentioned that earlier. Yes, I can hack, but I'm nowhere near as good or infallible as Quantum. And hospital security systems tend to be tighter since terrorism started to rise. So I might not be able to get us through, I'm a passable hacker, but the Doc is really the master here." he shrugs and shakes his head.

"But if push comes to shove I can always just cut the wires and we deal with the fallout later. Or we pitch rocks at it or something, and act like kids causing a mess.

[MrAbdiel]

"Well, if Fred can't find us a cable to do something with, push -might- have come to shove, and you may just have to cut power to the camera here the old fashion way. Then the rest can roll on - Penny, Ray, ready to cause that distraction when the camera goes out?"

[Ameraaaaaa]

"Well, if Fred can't find us a cable to do something with, push -might- have come to shove, and you may just have to cut power to the camera here the old fashion way. Then the rest can roll on - Penny, Ray, ready to cause that distraction when the camera goes out?"


"Yuuup. Not a problem miss."

Ray says nodding his head.

[Breitheamh]

Fred is scanning the entire building, searching for any port of entry on a computer that might help him, but he's coming up short of anything with minimal risk.

If one of them would just put down their handheld for a second, I could get it. And how is no one away from their office computer? he thinks in frustration.

"H-h-I'm just w-waiting for somebody to p-hh-put down their handheld device for a second.
Do a-ah-hany of you have...'s-sticky' fingers?"

[moonfly7]

"I'm afraid not, my fingers are made of lead when it comes to slight of hand"

John sasy with a shake of his head

[Ameraaaaaa]

Ray shakes his head.

"I'm not good and stealing either unfortunately.

[MrAbdiel]

Dahlia grimaces. “That… is… something I can accomplish. But that, too, is best done with a distraction.”

[MrAbdiel]

With obvious reluctance, with her eyes swivelling in response to some internal negotiation, Sister Dahlia finally looks at the group with apology in her sad smile. "I'm sorry. I wish I could have been more help."

Then an obscuring curl of white vapor rushes up from her ankles, over her body, and disperses leaving the olive skinned beauty that revelled in provoking their discomfort through their first team meeting. But now, after stopping home to change, Jezebel is dressed immaculately in smart professional wear; fitted jacket, snug pencil skirt, half-frame glasses and hair held off her shoulders in a ponytail. One hand holds a designer brand black leather satchel that matches her charcoal regalia. At once, she lets out a melodramatic sigh. "I thought she'd never leave. Oh, and you're all so awful at crime. It's so endearing. You can murder, that's not in doubt; and maim all the way along the spectrum. But the petty crimes - the best crimes... Well. You'll need some hand holding. Here. Forget everything the sister said. This is what's going to happen."

With barely a breath to leave room for objection, she turns to John and Fred. "John, you're taking your friend Fred in to the emergency room because you think he's sick and you don't know what's wrong with him. They'll give you a clipboard and a form to fill out regarding his insurance or lack thereof, like everyone else in America. You'll sit in the E.R. waiting room and fill out the form - writing slowly."

She pivots on killer stiletto heels, and gestures with open hands to Penny and Ray. "Ray, you'll bring a reluctant Penny in to the E.R. waiting room exactly one hundred and eighty seconds later. You are both security guards who just went through a live fire incident and you're worried she's in shock over the whole thing, and you're pressuring her into an immediate consultation. Because she's not jetting blood everywhere, you'll get a clipboard too and they'll back-of-the-line you. Everyone clear so far? I'm keeping it nice and down-the-middle so you barely even have to lie at all." She gives them a nod and look that suggests a condescending, maternal care. Then brightens as she gestures to herself. "Another hundred and eighty seconds later, and I'll come in. I'll chat up the least-busy looking doctor in the waiting room. When you hear me laugh like this..." She summons up a short, pleasant peal of laughter that is simultaneously so genuine sounding it's almost upsetting to know someone can fake such a thing. "...That means I'm ready. Penny, you're going to throw the clipboard and Ray and kick up a stink about him being overprotective. Accuse him of treating you like a little girl instead of a professional. While everyone is watching this blow-up, I'll swipe my doctor's tablet, palm it off to Fred and John, they'll do their cyber-magic to find the information we need - and ideally, glitch the waiting room cameras so there's no record of that little swap. I'll head upstairs, calling John in the elevator to get the information relay, and then head to our then-located target; and depending on how disquieted you are waiting, you can all either decide to give up on the paperwork, or just draw it out for as long as you need to. As long as you've got a clipboard and you're quiet, no one will worry about you when there's people next to you who have alcohol poisoning and stab wounds. We all leave in our seperate detachments. See? Easy. So whenever you're ready, gentlemen..." She glances to her stylish watch. "We can begin."

[Ameraaaaaa]

Ray nods. He still couldn't believe he was working with a demon of all things. Just another strange scenario in this possibly literally damned city.

[Breitheamh]

Fred nods in agreement, figuring this is probably as good a plan as any. It requires the least acting on his part, though considering what he looks like, it wouldn't surprise him if he ended up moving up the ER line a bit quicker than expected.

Inwardly, he thinks, Finally! as he looks Jezebel up and down. And considering his lack of a poker face, which Jezebel would likely have seen through anyway, this is not what she has seen from almost every man who has ever looked at her; there is no mixture of fear, anxiety, awkward uncomfortability, and raging lust. There is only a passionate curiosity, a scientific interest.

Expertise Medicine [roll0] to scan Jezebel's DNA, if she has any. And Expertise Science to figure out what her chemical structure is if she's not DNA based [roll1]

[moonfly7]

John nods. It's the best plan they have for now, it seems

[JNAProductions]

John and Fred enter the room. The man at the desk doesn't see them for a moment or two, then when John clears his throat, he does. "Sorry! Sorry, been a hell of a day. Um, what's the matter?"

Fred leans on the table, seemingly tired and headachey, and John tells the deskman that Fred's not well, and he just wanted to check with a doctor. "Right, I get it. It might be a little while if nothing's urgent, but take these forms, fill them out... You know."

Three minutes pass, exactly. Ray brings Penny in, and the two make a rather unconvincing story about being guards who had a live-fire incident. The two stumble over each other's words, contradicting once or twice. The man behind the desk ***** an eyebrow, but slides you a clipboard with some forms. "Right... Go ahead and fill these out."

Three minutes pass again. Jezebel makes her entrance. She sees a doctor enter the room, or at least someone with a PDA, and moves to talk to them. The woman with the PDA tries to do her business, but Jezebel is pushy and insistent. This goes on for maybe thirty seconds before she laughs her signal.

Penny throws the clipboard, yelling at Ray about being overprotective. Ray seemed quite ready for it, as if he knew it was coming, but there's still quite a commotion, with a few policefolk hearing the throwdown and coming to the waiting room. Jezebel makes her swipe, and palms it over to John as she runs out of the building, in "fear".


The cops sort everything out, with surprisingly little violence. They do draw guns, but in about ten minutes, the group is out, and returns to their nearby hideyhole. Foundry and Quantum quickly work their technological magic on the PDA, and break in in positively record time. While their abilities on the PDA are limited, they do discover there's an unguarded computer accessible outside the hospital-probably something left over from construction. They make their way over, and get access to the cameras and a lot of details. They skim over most of it, not wanting to pry into people's medical lives, but find a good amount on the goons who were brought in-enough for Jezebel to convincingly fake her way in.

Jezebel takes a moment to shift her form, so to not be the same person who was there earlier, and strides into the waiting room. She demands to see her clients, not shouting, but with the cold fury of a professional. The cops, still there, try to stop her, but with some convincing legalities and sheer charisma, she bullies them down.

One of the cops follows her, and says "I'll need to be present-for your safety, you know, and-"

She cuts him off, making absolutely clear that attorney-client privilege is not to be usurped, especially not by some two-bit police officer! The cop weakly protests, but when the two arrive at the goon's door, he waits outside. Or at least, tries to-Jezebel makes sure no one is listening in, and that includes him.

Once she's sure the way is clear, she awakens the goon. "Huh... What?" he lets out. "Who the hell are you?"

Using very particular techniques, Jezebel extracts information. She doesn't lay a finger on the man-but she makes very clear that life will be much, much better if he just cooperates. And if he doesn't...

She gets good info. And returns to the group.


When she arrives back, you all make the decision to flee the scene quickly. You don't have confidence in your deception, especially with Jezebel giving some critiques on it, and so leave before you get caught. As you rush out, she informs you what she found.

The goons used to be part of a small-time gang. Drug smugglers, weapons dealers, but very local, very small. Then the Wolfman, "Lupin" as he calls himself, killed their leader. He established dominance, and quickly mustered them into a better force. The goons are terrified of him, but his promise that he can make others like him has kept them nearby. Plus threats-lots of threats.

While well-armed, this gang is not well-disciplined. The goon pretty quickly gave up a couple of hiding spots, though Lupin has been keeping them on the move, so he's not sure how long they'll stay there, if they haven't already moved. And the only thing he knew about Birch was that he was critical to getting them all wolfified. Lupin has been tight-lipped with what he tells them.

If you'd like, Jezebel, ask specific questions in the OOC, and I'll answer from the goon's point of view.

[Ameraaaaaa]

Ray tells the group "i gotta adjust my powerset. Give me a second."

He then proceeds to meditate.

In his mind he sees the embodiments of his immunities.

"hey mr fire and electricity. I need mr sharp right now.

Mr fire says "sure thing boss. Hey electricity! You heard the boss!"

Both walk out for now and are replaced with mr sharp. Yes he is sharply dressed.

Tough guy then tells mr entrapment and mr bullet to replace themselves with mr explosions.

When tough guy wakes up he says "all done. I'm currently immune to explosions sharp stuff and bludgeoning stuff. So what's the plan. I assume we aren't just gonna ask the thugs to politely put down their guns and come have have brunch with us."

[moonfly7]

"Agreed. I'm thinking we don't even bother asking until we've got them subdued. We have locations, and absolutely no reason to go inside into whats assuredly a fortified hideout with lots of guns. I say, we force them out. I can rig up some explosives that are mostly light, heat, and sound, and deploy them pretty easily from outside with Quantums help. When they go off and the perps run out of the burning building, we whack them in their confusion."

he pauses and then amends

"And I'm suggesting a controlled burn, Obviously I'm not going to be suggesting we do anything that could harm civilians or even the integrity of the building."

[Breitheamh]

"Hh-a-hagreed," Fred offers. "Tear g-gas and ff-flashbangs w-work pretty well. And I can contain stragglers as well. J-just need a good nest."

[MrAbdiel]

Sister Dahlia, who has been comfortable enough taking a vague leadership hand with the earlier events, nods along for this part of the plan. Sniper nests, thermite bombs, straight-up raids - this was beyond her expertise in the extreme.

“I might, ah… prepare something to help, in case someone gets hurt. I dare say you’re all better suited for this part of the work.” Her smile is genuinely apologetic.

[moonfly7]

"So we're agreed for Plan Shock and Awe then? Tough Guy, and lord help me you need a better name than that, but youre immune to explosians yeah? If we build our little gift baskets right you can walk in and go boom. Or we try the teleport delivery service, either way we have solid options here. I have to say, it's freeing to work with so many people who are all suprisingly capable. Makes this job much easier."

[Ameraaaaaa]

"So we're agreed for Plan Shock and Awe then? Tough Guy, and lord help me you need a better name than that, but youre immune to explosians yeah? If we build our little gift baskets right you can walk in and go boom. Or we try the teleport delivery service, either way we have solid options here. I have to say, it's freeing to work with so many people who are all suprisingly capable. Makes this job much easier."

Tough guy luaghs a little. "1st of guy my name is simple and easy to remember. What else is necessary. 2ed yes i can. 3rd i agree. This teams versatility is truly fortunate."

[Breitheamh]

As they discuss their plans, Fred runs through several feasible options for debilitating nonlethal chemical weapons and mechanical devices, shuffling and filing as he calculates time and materials needed and available, and then finally realizes after several minutes that the conversation has come to a lull, and he has not been paying attention for much of it.

Awkardly he offers, "Dd-do h-hww-wwe need a safe place? I h-ha-have a workshop back h-home we can use to b-build ssome of this."

[moonfly7]

"Yes, if you could quantum. All I've got is an apartment."

[JNAProductions]

You relocate to Quantum's workshop, and spend a few hours jury-rigging something with one of the extinguishers present. The actual ejection mechanism is simple enough, but getting the cocktail right takes a lot of time. Soon, though, you've got a solid (if relatively mild) deterrence device on your hands-and a note to replace the missing fire extinguisher when the chance presents itself.

With that, and Tough Guy making sure he's ready for bullets and gas, you head to the address the goon told you of. The warehouse is a smaller one, more of a mostly empty big house than a proper storage area, but there's lots of activity. People preparing to get all their crap out.

[Ameraaaaaa]

"well... looks like it's time to execute the plan. Ok. Shock and awe. Wish me luck! tough guy then proceeds to grab the fire extinguisher as planned then runs up to the men and activate the gas bomb.


Sorry if i misremembered or misunderstood the plan. I can edit my post if that's the case and the gm is ok with it.

[moonfly7]

"Good luck." Foundry says with a nod "And be careful, I know you've got your defenses but that doesn't mean they won't have something you can't handle. You're going into there turf, just blast them and then book it."

[MrAbdiel]

"But don't book it too quickly, or it won't affect them enough and they'll just dismantle the device left unattended."

Sister Dahlia adds her own conflicting encouragement to the jumble Tough Guy receives going into the building. The woman herself is garbed for anonymity now; wearing a recently made but archaicly inspired sister's habit, complete with cowled wimple and veil. She'd look anachronistic if the group she was with wasn't already dressed in their own home made costumes, making them look collectively ridiculous. But woe betide the ridiculer. She nods encouragingly to Tough Guy, and ducks down behind whatever cover she can find infront of the warehouse - a parked car, or mailbox, or the corner wall of the neighbouring building.

[moonfly7]

Foundry takes up a flanking position near the building, if things go sideways he'll be inside in moments. But if they go well he's in prime position to deal with exiting targets.

[Breitheamh]

From his vantage point, wearing a pair of black sweatpants, a black hoodie, and a black ski-mask (uninspired for sure, but it got the job done), Quantum surveys the scene before them, scanning for numbers of hostiles and anything of possible interest here at this warehouse. He could get used to this. With a team who could do all the heavy lifting, he was free to be eyes in the sky with his rifle instead of frantically bursting in and out of frays with his handgun.

His finger rested gently above the trigger with the butt firmly placed against his shoulder, barrel poking out just slightly over the lip of the nearby roof. He breathed in the breeze, then moved his hand quickly away from the trigger with practiced speed as he felt a coughing fit come on. He muffled it in his handkerchief and drew it away, placing the slightly blood-flecked cloth back in his pocket and focusing back on the task at hand.

Perception to get the lay of this place, count hostiles, look for weak points that can be exploited, anything at all of interest. Unless of course this is Investigation, which I would gladly exchange for.

Perception [roll0]
Investigation [roll1]

[Ameraaaaaa]

Tough guy smiles at the team work. Tough guy then proceeds to go to the goons and activate the device. He then waits for it to take effect then books it as he was told.

[JNAProductions]

The warehouse is divided into four major areas, with small barricades between them, not full-sized walls. There's a gakload of boxes, many of which are either empty or full of nothing important-pillows, funriture, or other such unimportant items. A few have drugs, more have weapons and ammo, and one box, buried deep in the back, has some kind of mechanism. You have no idea what it does without more examination.

There's about one and a half dozen goons, but no sign of the wolfman.

Tough Guy readies the gas bomb, waits a few moments, and then rushes in as it starts spewing out clouds of semi-toxic gas.

The goons startle, drawing their handguns as they start to cough.

I'm assuming this affects Fort, yeah?

They have +3 to their save.

[roll0]

[JNAProductions]

A full half of the goons are already stumbling, coughing, and hacking; clearly affected by the gas.

All of them, though, do their best to unload onto Tough Guy, aiming for him through the billowing fog. "Get him!" one yells, with various cuss words being bandied about by the others.

Some shots go true. Some don't. The ones that hit, though, fail to do anything. Tough Guy smirks, even though the goons can't possibly see his facial expression through the fog. "What the hell?" several of the goons say. "How do we hurt him?"

[roll0]
[roll1]

+3 each. Top set is unaffected goons, bottom rolls is already affected goons.

In total:

Six goons are fine
Nine goons are Dazed
Three goons are Stunned

[Breitheamh]

As the tear gas begins its work, Quantum takes a steadying breath and fires at one of the goons outside the building on his side, relying on his suppressor to keep them from noticing his location.

He begins to breathe out slowly as his gentle finger tickles the trigger, and just he is letting his weapon's mechanics take over... his breath catches, and he coughs.

The shot goes well wide, fortunately only hitting the side of the building, as Quantum lets out a soft, "F***!!"

[MrAbdiel]

Triquetra hides behind cover, her posture suggesting deep discomfort with the ongoing gunfire; flinching instinctively whenever there is a particularly dense burst of enemy fire. She clutches her aspergillum close, and tries to breathe steadilly; looking across where she can to her other allies in cover while Tough Guy does his name's work.

[moonfly7]

Foundry enters into the warehouse and immediatly begins slicing at the nearest uneffected target.


[roll0]

Enemy rule if you need it:

[roll1]

[JNAProductions]

1 Degree of Failure. -1 penalty on further checks.

Foundry makes his way through the fog and smacks one of the only slightly-coughing goons. He takes the hit decently, but is a little shook by it. "Another one!" he shouts as he tries to draw a bead on Foundry.

Attack:
[roll0]
DC 18 Toughness save on a hit.

Also, [roll1] are just gonna NOPE outta here. That 3 on Morale, the gas, and the sudden appearance of a well-armored figure plus Tough Guy...

More than half of the goons are no longer shooting, just trying to get out before they get caught or hurt.