Razade, The GM
The panels remain split up as the team begins to divide into smaller groups. The first panels move to
Pretty much everyone screams. The people on the boat. The people on the boat below you, you...obviously as you're struck by the blinding crackling bolt of energy...but you stead yourself even if the screaming doesn't stop as quickly. The question now is...where are you going with your cargo? Has it ever occurred to you why people call it cargo when it's on a ship but a shipment when it's on a car? That's a digression, what's probably more pertinent is...can you risk taking another shot from whoever or whatever that was? Your team's silent on the matter...they could probably use your help.
So Ground Zero, what do you do?
Next, side by side are
Hikari and Tsunami
The goons inside the shop are quick to drop their weapons, a side long look between the two confirming that they really don't want anything to do with the armored club wielding teen. "Boss isn't paying us enough for this, it was supposed to be an easy job." says one as they find somewhere to sit and await the police whose sirens are already blaring in the distance. "We were lookin' for someone...Boss got'em good when they crossed swords but she's ran off. Won't matter...doubt she'll be standing for too much longer." the other says, the pair finally falling into sullen silence.
The shop is a mess from their previous work, some fashion boutique by the look of it. With time to look and no baddies to distract you however the out of place is easy to spot. A trail of blood, fresh and red, leads a trail out through the supply room and into one of the many back alleys of the River District. Once outside the familiar sound of Sakura, and Hikari, can be heard. Perhaps she's already on the scene as you step out the door?
Either way, the scene is the same when you both meet up in the cluttered trash filled alley. There, sprawled out in some boxes and trash bags is a prone figure. Young and in a kimono not at all unlike Coyote out in the square, another woman. She's clearly seen better days, her pale skin drained of any remaining color. The trail of blood that led you here is fresher, larger and ends in a pool beneath her. Her chest moves shallowly with feeble and hard fought breathes.
She won't be with you long.
What do you do?
Acrobatics and mild profanity get you only so far. The only one around to hear the latter is up in the window and with your swing up you find yourself face to face with the shooter. You recognize her, skull face paint and wild purple mohawk that practicaly glows in the dim light of the small room she's found as her vantage point. Bruja. The latest of them it would seem, the young lady no much older than you. The Bruja are a Legacy of their own in the city, several former members having changed their tune and joining up with the more heroic elements of the city. That doesn't seem to be the case with the newest of them.
A momentary look of shock crosses her features as you swing up from below, the crackling energy that rang out from the window pulsates about her hands. "Hi there." she chirps, raises them and placing a blast as your feet plant on the window sill.
Roll to take a Powerful Blow.
Your kinetic lances strike the large mass of the creature, it wobbling for a few moments as the energy punches holes in its outer layer of tar and gravel only to be diffused within. Several more psuedopods strike out in defense, not enough to knock you back to the ground but certainly enough to shake you up inside your suit as the monster continues to devour the road and sidewalk as it adds concrete and soil to its growing mass.
"Is that the best you've got? All that stuff to say when you're behind a screen but when the fight's brought to you you're all hot air." The Biolater taunts from behind his shield, his air of self assured condescension even more grating in person...and he's not even using smiley emotes to passive aggressively bait you!
"Your Grandfather promised me a fat grant if I brought you in, I don't think he really thought I'd be able to. Said you were too dangerous for me, laughed at me. Said that even if you were a weakling and a run away, you were still one of his family. But you're not, you're not dangerous and you're not the same as them. You're just some weak kid and when I'm done with you, prying you out of that tin can, they can have the rest."
Mark a Condition. On top of that, this loser is using his influence on you. You can either reject or shift your labels. Mundane up and Danger down.