[IC] Masks: The Unseen Path

[DreadPirateH]

Errant White
Conditions: Guilty
Potential: 4/5

Spoiler: Labels

Show

• Freak: -1
• Danger: +0
• Savior: +3
• Superior: +1
• Mundane: -2

Spoiler: Moves

Show

• [X] Fight the good fight: When you pull your punches while directly engaging a threat, you can roll + Savior instead of + Danger. If you do, you cannot choose to impress, surprise, or frighten your foe.
• [X]The legacy matters: When you take Influence over someone from your legacy (or give them Influence over you), mark potential and take +1 forward. When someone from your legacy causes your Labels to shift, mark potential and take +1 forward.

Right. Weaver can do it. With the actual heroes here now, Errant White and the others were just in the way. And of course Fox is already gone. Somehow, what had started as an unqualified victory had become something close to a loss. Aiden's knight's helm would obscure the look of defeat on his face from most people, but maybe not from somebody like Delphi with her Oracle since she reminds him of the good job they actually did.

"Thanks. If we were a help to anybody tonight, I'm glad it could be you," he responds. He pauses awkwardly, but JigaWatt comes to the rescue. He makes to leave, but something Delphi said catches his fascination, and he temporarily ignores his teammates' entreats to retreat. "This New Dawn. They're a big deal? I hadn't heard of them before. I think we handled ourselves well enough tonight. Like you said, we were meant to be here." She had said that. It had the power of the Oracle behind it! There's something more here, this was Fate at work!

"There's more to this, isn't there? You and Sunshot and the rest of the League are handling this, but maybe there's a part in this for us. Can we help? To bring down New Dawn? I need this. Errant Green and Bartimaeus and the others think there was a mistake, that I'm not supposed to be a Knight. This could help me prove myself to them! And maybe to myself, too. You said it yourself. We were meant to be here."

Spoiler: OOC

Show

I'm making good on that team move here, revealing a secret of the Legacy to Delphi (that there's some conflict and he's maybe not a Knight yet). I give Delphi Influence over me, because she's got the power of Fate behind her words and she's their link at getting more involved, and I'm clearing Insecure, because she reminded him that he is capable of being a hero.

[Kirjath]

Liminal
Conditions: Angry, Afraid
Potential: 3/5

Spoiler: Labels

Show

• Freak: +3
• Danger: -1
• Savior: +1
• Superior: +1
• Mundane: -1

Spoiler: Moves

Show

• The Mask: You wear a mask and hide your real identity. You embody Freak while wearing your mask.
  Once per session, you can affirm either your heroic or secret identity to switch your Mundane with your mask’s Label. When you reveal your secret identity to someone who didn’t know it already, mark potential.
  
  
• Mild-mannered: When you try to use your civilian identity to deceive, trick, or slip past someone, roll + Mundane. On a hit they buy your facade. On a 7-9, choose one:
  - you’re still under observation
  - you leave something incriminating behind
  - you’re forced to make a fool of yourself to sell it
  On a miss, one of your civilian obligations rears its ugly head.
  
  
• Game face: When you commit yourself to save someone or defeat a terrible enemy, mark a condition and take +1 ongoing to all rolls in direct pursuit of that goal. At the end of any scene in which you don’t make progress towards that goal, mark a condition. When you fulfill your goal, mark potential.

Liminal had a lot to think about on her trip home. As she glanced about the ruins of the city, her hands immediately rose to rub her arms. It wasn't necessarily cold, but the darkness still freaked her out a bit without the others present. But home lay beyond the hanging shadows of the desiccated buildings, so all she could do was begin walking. There was no one nearby to talk to, no one to prank, so Liminal was left alone with her thoughts, and that was a terrible place to be right now.

The many failures of the mission kept biting at her like imaginary gnats, eating away at her confidence and only making her irritation grow. She slowly sank deeper into her own dark thoughts as she made her way back into the city proper, the only thing breaking her descent was a surprising phone notification.

Liminal checked the message, her eyes briefly widened as she read the name of the sender. She should've been more surprised, more afraid that the very Raven of Midnight not only knew her information on Veil, but had reached out to her personally. Instead, the first thoughts she had were a dozen sarcastic comments. Did she know they'd just finished a mission? Liminal wouldn't doubt it, mostly due to the potential use of magic.

"Hm..." She wondered aloud as she began typing into her phone. "'Unfriendly'. Is that a good one? 'Wondering why I bothered'? 'Questioning why another magical witch is contacting me tonight'? What the hell is up with all the shadowy contact stuff anyways? Why can't heroes ever introduce themselves like normal people?"

The stretchy hero stopped typing for a moment. She knew whatever words she was about to send would probably be poorly reasoned. Text communication was truly the one place where she didn't have to let her unfiltered words get her in trouble. Liminal pressed on the delete key and watched her tirade slowly erase itself.

"I'm not feeling great," She answered honestly. "I just finished a mission that I'm obviously not cut out for whatever it was that happened back there. I need to think on a few things. Um, if I may ask, is there something I can do for you?"

[Malexia]

Liminal, you're out of the Warrens now and back on normal streets. It takes a few minutes for Corax's response to arrive.

Have a little faith. You won, didn't you? Savor this victory. Take respite.

You see the little symbol on the screen telling you she's typing another message, but it takes another several minutes for the rather short second message to appear.

And keep your friends close. You never know what you have until it's gone.

---

JigaWatt, your words seem to put Sunshot at ease. He nods with evident relief and watches you go with a wave, though just as you're leaving you hear in a confused tone, "Wait, did he say footage?"

And then you're out in the Warrens, the night sky above.

---

Errant, you see Delphi hesitate. "Errant, I want to tell you, but I don't know that I can, or that I should. The League has been hunting these monsters since we first found evidence of them, and that information is... well, it's classified. I'll let Sunshot know that you want to help, but-"

She shudders. An unsteady step turns into a trip, and as you rush to catch her she falls against you, going limp. Her head twists at an angle that doesn't seem natural, and a wisp of green smoke escapes her mouth as she says, in a voice not her own,

"I see the break of dawn. I see Prometheus in chains, bound beneath the earth for numberless crimes. I see Midas in a golden palace, blessed by a great pact. I see Arachne at the loom, carefully guiding each thread with an artisan's care."

"I see the day of reckoning. I see demons and dragons, born of the same source. I see questing knights and a weary wizard. I see the house divided and the absent mother. I see a girl who is lonely and brilliant and betrayed."

"I see the long night. I see the storm, but not its eye, and I see the shadow, but not what casts it, and I see the question, but the answer defies sight both mortal and divine."

"The Adversary. Beware the Adversary."

And then she's back, and she shakes her head. "Did I... oh, hell. I... okay, no, no time to talk. Weaver is coming. Just, find me later, okay? Find me later. And tell Fox I said hi."

Delphi pushes you away and sends you out into the Warrens, just in time to get out before Weaver arrives. And as you travel through the ruins, the words of a prophecy play on repeat in your mind.

---

The four of you reconnect at the usual after-mission venue, with heavy hearts and minds ready to be unburdened through the world's greatest stress-relief device: burgers.

Specifically, burgers from Crossroads, a local shop that caters specifically to your clientele: capes. You see a few other costumed teens seated inside, though it's a bit late for there to be much activity.

[Razade]

Fox
Conditions: Angry,
Potential: 2/5

Fox was the first to leave so it only made sense he was the first to arrive, looming in the back of Crossroads and looking for all the world as out of place as you'd expect. He was never out of costume in front of the team after all. Part of him wondered why they chose such a strange place, was it a joke at his expense? A bad one, he thought, if it were. They really needed a base, this place wasn't secure and a base would at least give them a chance to find more casual, if still identity concealing, costumes. He supposed it didn't really matter to Errant or Jigawatt.

His mind still bubbled over with annoyance as he sat there with a drink, straw wedged not all all frighteningly wedged into his mask, while he waited. Caffeine and sweetness did little to dull that roar. The mission may have been a success but only barely. Jigawatt nearly blew it and even his side task resulted in little more than a bibliophile's wet dream. He was quick to tuck the straw from his mask at the first sign of a teammate, the shadows whispering their approach. It was a totally inappropriate use for a spell but he couldn't be seen in such an uncool way.

He said nothing even when the rest arrive, merely keeping his peace while the others got situated. Errant or Jigawatt would more than likely head any conversation up. While he sat there, broody, his mind drifted. He'd come here without his costume before. A few times. It was one of the only places Camp Joy would bring their more well behaved inmates when they were feeling generous. Maybe they felt that with all the young capes around, enjoying themselves, they would be jealous and work to get out faster. Maybe they felt that there was more firepower here and if any of them misbehaved the snot nosed teens sucking shakes down would like to finish them off with a rousing beat down against meta-humans who couldn't access their powers. Either were plausible, both were likely. Just another reason to be annoyed at the choice of locations.

He'd sit here with a few other inmates, listening to them harass the less hardened of their bunch while tossing french fries at each other. No one did that to him, he'd broken a few noses and teeth to make sure everyone knew he wasn't someone to test lightly. Not that others didn't, but the cowards left him alone. He wasn't easy enough so they'd target someone soft, someone who really didn't belong, someone like Delphi. They'd picked her out quick and while he'd practiced non-interference from the get go something about her made him angry. He'd decided to keep her safe until he could figure out what made him so mad about her. He's roused however when Jigawatt appears second, frowning behind the mask.

[Captain Jak]

JigaWatt
Conditions:
Potential: 3/5

Spoiler: Labels

Show

• Freak: +2
• Danger: -1
• Savior: +2
• Superior: +2
• Mundane: -2

Spoiler: Moves

Show

• Stage-fighting: When you directly engage a threat with an audience watching, mark a condition to roll + Superior instead of Danger.
  
  
• Time for the show: When you put on a flamboyant display of your powers, roll + Superior.
  On a 7-9, name one NPC present.
  On a 10+, name two NPCs present.
  The named NPCs must either volunteer help or information, express admiration, or ask for your help, GM’s choice.
  On a miss, your display catches someone watching in the wrong way.
  
  
• Suck it, Domitian: When you stand strong while dramatically under fire, roll + Savior instead of + Danger to directly engage a threat.

That's right – footage. My fans need quality content, and this is just that! JigaWatt can't wait until he gets a chance to drop this on his feed; he'll have to work on a teaser or two to make sure he has everyone's attention when the time comes.

Stealth part of their mission well over and done now, he crackles visibly through the sky atop his steel deck on his way to the Team's usual meeting place, indulging in some of his signature aerobatics on the way. He feels good – why shouldn't he? They confronted and defeated some bad guys and their super villain boss, saved some kids and some scientists, and did it all without anyone getting seriously injured.

And praise from the League to boot?

Feeling good? He's on top of the world.

The sign for crossroads is easy to locate; very few businesses have a large, illuminated sign on the roof meant to be read from above, but given the target clientele it makes perfect sense. Slaloming down as if he's snowboarding out of the sky, JigaWatt does a circuit of the building before hopping off his board in front of the door. Flipping the board over his shoulder, he electromagnetically adheres it to his back before pushing his way in.

Not surprising – as the creepy Hot Topic teen had been the first to bolt from the scene – Fox is already within, and JigaWatt tosses a little two-fingered salute of greeting to Andy Gleeson, the shift manager who is usually on this time of night.

Making his way over to the table staked out for the Team – spur of the moment as it had been, it's starting to grow on him – JigaWatt employs a simple little trick he'd figured out a while back. As he would pass under a bank of fluorescent lights they would brighten maybe ten percent, while the surrounding banks would dim the same amount. The overall effect is him traveling under a subtle spotlight, and he thought it was just a pretty damn cool trick.

"Oh hey, Fox, there you are," he says as he approaches the table, as if just now spotting his wayward teammate. "Glad you grabbed us a table. We got an order of potato skins on the way?" he asks with a smile as he flips a chair around before straddling it backwards at the table.

He is so ready for a burger right now. Whether it's adrenaline or the amount of power he used earlier, he's starving.

[Razade]

Fox
Conditions: Angry,
Potential: 2/5

About a dozen things ran through his head as Jigawatt takes a seat, merely folding his arms across his chest with the usual stony silence. He wouldn't have "potato skins on the way" if he wanted, let alone afford it. Heroing was expensive, building creepy costumes cost a lot and it was only by merit that he lived above a restaurant owned by the Knights that he had something to eat most days. Not to mention that at least half the team met in costume, a consideration he tried to keep in mind if only to make them keep it in mind as well. "No. Where are the others?"

[Captain Jak]

JigaWatt
Conditions:
Potential: 3/5

Spoiler: Labels

Show

• Freak: +2
• Danger: -1
• Savior: +2
• Superior: +2
• Mundane: -2

Spoiler: Moves

Show

• Stage-fighting: When you directly engage a threat with an audience watching, mark a condition to roll + Superior instead of Danger.
  
  
• Time for the show: When you put on a flamboyant display of your powers, roll + Superior.
  On a 7-9, name one NPC present.
  On a 10+, name two NPCs present.
  The named NPCs must either volunteer help or information, express admiration, or ask for your help, GM’s choice.
  On a miss, your display catches someone watching in the wrong way.
  
  
• Suck it, Domitian: When you stand strong while dramatically under fire, roll + Savior instead of + Danger to directly engage a threat.

Hah, classic Fox. He hasn’t known the other hero for very long, and in a way doesn’t know him very well at all – the concealing mask he wears is figurative as well as literal – but this is right on brand for him.

"They’re comin’; we had more League incoming, so we left individually rather than grabbing attention by being a costumed gang roaming the Warrens," he replied, magnanimously not drawing attention to the fact that they had been lacking someone to draw concealing shadows about them.

Twisting about in his chair, he rectifies Fox’s lapse by ordering an order of potato skins to the table for when the others show up. While he’s not exactly living large with limos and a crew, he’s not that poorly off either with the revenue from his YouTube channel, so potato skins are a non-issue.

While he waits for food and companions both, he considers the opportunity before him. It’s rarely just him and Fox, and this might be a good time to try to gain a little insight into his most mysterious teammate.

Removing his GoPro headpiece, he sets it down on the table facing the wall, making it clear that they weren’t ‘on’ before leaning back in his chair and regarding Fox.

"I gotta say, I just don’t get you, man," he says but not unkindly. "I mean, it’s pretty obvious why I do what I do. I like the fame, the fun, sure, but I also like being able to help people," he goes on. "Sure, I go looking for the spotlight, but when the light’s on you, you get to choose where to stand, what gets lit up by your being there." He shrugs; a lot of people condemn his motives because they seem self-serving. He knows why he does what he does.

"But you," JigaWatt continues, leaning forward to fold his arms on the table. "I don’t get you. Why? Why do you bring your talents to the Work?" He’s not the best people person, but hopefully Fox might be in a talking mood since he doesn’t have an audience.

Spoiler: OOC:

Show

Pierce the Mask: 9

Frankly, I’m stunned. Fox, what are you really planning?

[Razade]

Fox
Conditions: Angry,
Potential: 2/5

It was a rare thing, him wishing Errant would show up, but it dominated the first few moments as Jigawatt tried to press his fingers into the cracks. With cocked head, birdlike and predatory, he regards the now (hopefully) off recording devices and beneath the mask his lips curled with disdain. It was no secret that he held Jigawatt's antics in low regard, the drive for other people's...strangers...approval frankly a revolting prospect to his mind. Doing what they did for the sake of it was good, noble one might even say, and it was at least on the list for Jigawatt but their methods were simply diametric.

For that reason Fox simply couldn't fathom explaining it all to his co-worker. Not just because...they weren't close...but because he didn't suspect he'd understand. Part of it was cultural. The Black Knights had always removed threats to their infiltrated cultures, ingratiating and building rapport with the locals, and a strong sense of justice ran through the culture. They were Knights after all. His mother and father had done the same, it was expected he'd do the same with or without them when he hit adulthood. So in that part the question simply didn't make sense. There wasn't anything to get. There was no ultiror motivation, no desire for anything for the sake of it. His talents were because of their work, not in spite of it. They weren't brought along to the job any more or less than a mason brought a hammer to a job.

Another part was, perhaps mistakenly though he had no real way of knowing, Fox simply didn't fathom Jigawatt would understand the loss he'd suffered. How would he share that anyway without spilling the beans on everything else and would the z-lister be able to keep his mouth shut about it? How could he explain that he wanted to bring a torch to Albion and dance on the embers? How could he do it without sounding like a raving madman or without Jigawatt turning around and telling Errant? How did it not look, in no better word, vilainous. It wasn't a risk he was willing to take. Lastly, he just didn't feel like it was a topic that needed discussing. The social aspect of the question didn't elude him, Jigawatt was trying in his own way to bridge the gap but it was neither a gap he felt needed bridging nor an appropriate question given their work. His reasons were personal, he'd rather like to keep them as such.

Fox's head finally snaps back to consider Jigawatt. "We want revenge." It was simple, keeping to Fox's laconic manner, but the venom that dripped off each word would be hard to miss. There was a moment of silence after, the LED lights flickering and dancing in those black sockets with erratic motion, before he spoke again. "We do our work, we saved you. That should be enough."

[Kirjath]

Liminal
Conditions: Angry, Afraid
Potential: 3/5

Spoiler: Labels

Show

• Freak: +3
• Danger: -1
• Savior: +1
• Superior: +1
• Mundane: -1

Spoiler: Moves

Show

• The Mask: You wear a mask and hide your real identity. You embody Freak while wearing your mask.
  Once per session, you can affirm either your heroic or secret identity to switch your Mundane with your mask’s Label. When you reveal your secret identity to someone who didn’t know it already, mark potential.
  
  
• Mild-mannered: When you try to use your civilian identity to deceive, trick, or slip past someone, roll + Mundane. On a hit they buy your facade. On a 7-9, choose one:
  - you’re still under observation
  - you leave something incriminating behind
  - you’re forced to make a fool of yourself to sell it
  On a miss, one of your civilian obligations rears its ugly head.
  
  
• Game face: When you commit yourself to save someone or defeat a terrible enemy, mark a condition and take +1 ongoing to all rolls in direct pursuit of that goal. At the end of any scene in which you don’t make progress towards that goal, mark a condition. When you fulfill your goal, mark potential.

Liminal stood in front of the door to their "usual" hangout spot, unsure if she wanted to enter. In truth, they'd only started using it as a convenient (and somewhat cheaper) spot to eat since they began functioning as a team, but it wasn't a place she would have frequented without them. She had spent quite a lot of time on the walk over questioning whether or not she should join them at all that evening. Her brother would've been alone at home for some time now, and if she didn't get back before her parents did, a simple grounding would be the least of her worries. More than that, Liminal worried about the trouble the toddler could get into when he got especially bored.

But if she was completely honest, Liminal didn't want to let the team know how badly the mission had shaken her. The usual silly mask she wore had slipped badly during that fight, and she wasn't sure she could maintain her usual casual appearance at the moment.

Still, Corax's words flashed in her mind again. "And keep your friends close. You never know what you have until it's gone". It sounded half like Saturday cartoon wisdom, and half like an actual warning. The message had given her pause, and Liminal felt a chill down her spine as she read it. It pushed her to head towards the Crossroads. Maybe the team would forget the specifics of her attempts to help them out, or how she'd apparently spooked yet another group of hostages. Maybe all they wanted to do was "savor the victory", as Corax suggested. Liminal shook her head; it was tough savoring something that didn't feel like she'd had any part in accomplishing.

With a sigh, she pulled the door open and stepped inside the restaurant. The brief trace of static electricity left on the handle meant that at least JigaWatt had already gotten there. Sure enough, Liminal could already see the electrical hero and the mysterious Fox in their usual spot near the back. She stepped over to the counter to order a small soda before joining her team, seating herself quietly near the aisle. She hadn't caught most of the conversation between the two teammates, but whatever it was about, it had Fox seemingly acting even more dour than usual.

"Hey," Liminal waved as she seated herself next to them. If she could project a front, the usual blase attitude, maybe she could even muster up the courage to properly apologize to JigaWatt. "Glad to see you guys made it out."

Glancing specifically towards Fox, she couldn't help but add: "Though inviting me to a creepy lab right before ditching wasn't cool."

She didn't actually care that Fox had left her, she'd gotten out just fine. Well, she cared a little bit, sure, but the reason she brought it up was to see if JigaWatt would voice his own complaints about her yelling at him. It would be the perfect segue into an apology, as nonchalant as she could manage. If he didn't bring it up, maybe the whole thing could just be dropped right then and there.

[DreadPirateH]

Errant White
Conditions: Guilty
Potential: 4/5

Spoiler: Labels

Show

• Freak: -1
• Danger: +0
• Savior: +3
• Superior: +1
• Mundane: -2

Spoiler: Moves

Show

• [X] Fight the good fight: When you pull your punches while directly engaging a threat, you can roll + Savior instead of + Danger. If you do, you cannot choose to impress, surprise, or frighten your foe.
• [X]The legacy matters: When you take Influence over someone from your legacy (or give them Influence over you), mark potential and take +1 forward. When someone from your legacy causes your Labels to shift, mark potential and take +1 forward.

Crossroads. Heralded in legend and lore as dangerous places, sometimes even mystical. The crossroads could take you on the road to Rome, it could offer you a meeting place for a deal with the devil, it could even offer you passage beyond the thin veil between worlds. Or, in Halcyon City, it could be a wayward tavern to fill your belly with a burger and fries. That last part of his encounter with Delphi had shaken Aiden, but a strawberry milkshake would go a long way toward fixing that.

When he arrives, the others are already seated at their usual spot. "Good job tonight," he says, approaching the table. Aiden might feel out of place in his shining armor at any other diner, but Crossroads was no ordinary eatery, and his costume barely registers notice compared with all the other colorful characters filling the place this evening. "Fox, Delphi says hello. How do you two know each other?"

[Razade]

Fox
Conditions: Angry,
Potential: 2/5

He felt like he had a sign saying "Take a number" on his chest. Three teammates, three...well two seemingly out of bounds questions. Liminal had a legitimate scolding on her side, as minor as he felt it might be, but the rest? He'd been under the assumption that their personal lives were out of bounds. They wore masks for a reason, went by aliases for the same reason. They had reasons that this life and the other life shouldn't mix. "You were safe." he grumbles, increasingly agitated by the focus. "You would have found fault if we'd gone on our own and got attacked as well. If we are to lose with every action, we will opt for the lesser defeat. We trusted you to have our back. We were not aware that we also had to take feelings into consideration. It seems we were mistaken." He tilted his head back towards Jigawatt with the last bit.

On the matter of Delphi...well. The Children of Albion put much stock in Fate. Here they were, sitting in a diner they'd both frequented. She'd apparently been at the scene of the job as well, there was little wonder why the shadows had been eager to leave. She'd have come with her new mentor, do gooder that he was, and with him came Light. But why was Errant asking in the first place? The already gnawing annoyance was morphing into something else, deep in the pit of his stomach. He'd done a lot to put walls between them, Delphi and himself, and the gravity of Fate that drew them close drew the team along with it. He had little love for Fate, a singular notion of his culture that he found outdated and hostile to the lingering fingers on the precipice of destruction they hung from.

He didn't bother looking at Errant, mask turning to look out onto the streets beyond. Yearning to be out there, between the faint glow of street lamps, masked in shadow and free from prying teammates. He'd spoken so much, a simple screw off would be more than Errant and the others deserved at this stage. But...being cryptic and edgey seemed the more fun route and he needed some fun before they got to business. "We wore shackles." He did the eye wobble thing again, little red pinpricks of light erratic and wild in the dark recesses of his mask. "Perhaps the spotlight should be on the one who craves it." He raised a finger to point at Jigawatt. "You, speak."

[Captain Jak]

JigaWatt
Conditions:
Potential: 3/5

Spoiler: Labels

Show

• Freak: +2
• Danger: -1
• Savior: +2
• Superior: +2
• Mundane: -2

Spoiler: Moves

Show

• Stage-fighting: When you directly engage a threat with an audience watching, mark a condition to roll + Superior instead of Danger.
  
  
• Time for the show: When you put on a flamboyant display of your powers, roll + Superior.
  On a 7-9, name one NPC present.
  On a 10+, name two NPCs present.
  The named NPCs must either volunteer help or information, express admiration, or ask for your help, GM’s choice.
  On a miss, your display catches someone watching in the wrong way.
  
  
• Suck it, Domitian: When you stand strong while dramatically under fire, roll + Savior instead of + Danger to directly engage a threat.

JigaWatt nods at Fox's reply to his prying question; while unsurprisingly vague, it certainly does give a start to understanding where Fox is coming from, and for the moment it is indeed enough.

"Naw, s'cool," he agrees, making a placating gesture. Sure, the question had been a little out of line to begin with, but he's never been one all that much for sticking entirely on the straight and narrow.

Liminal and Errant arrive then, one right after the other, and poor Fox continues to come under fire from his teammates. The revelation that he had disappeared on Liminal shortly after the two of them had gone off to investigate comes...as not much of a surprise, truth be told, but the discovery that Fox and the hero's Sidekick have some kind of history together?

Interesting.

Fox's responses make it clear just how uncomfortable he is at being the focus of all this attention, made even further clear by the not at all subtle shift of focus to JigaWatt himself.

"...woof," he replies after a startled moment of silence, having been caught off-guard by the sudden redirect. "Just so you know, that's not really what we mean by 'dawg'," he adds with a quirky grin.

Enough is enough, however. "C'mon, guys, no more third degree. Fox did good out there; we all did!" he exclaims, waving a hand for emphasis. "We caught the bad guy, disrupted their operation, freed the victims, and impressed one of the big leaguers. Solid win!" Sure, there had been some bumps and bobbles along the way, but in the end things had worked out fine, so it was a total win in his books.

"And you found another lab? Awesome," he goes on, nodding at Fox. "Hopefully there'll be stuff there to help the League's investigation," he adds, "since I went and trashed everything in the main room," he admits wryly.

"Good work," he tells Fox approvingly; perhaps some positive support will do wonders for their enigmatic teammate's outlook.

Spoiler: OOC:

Show

Comfort & Support (Fox): 9

Warm fuzzies! Mark potential, clear a condition, or shift Labels if Fox opens up in return!

[DreadPirateH]

Errant White
Conditions: Guilty
Potential: 4/5

Spoiler: Labels

Show

• Freak: -1
• Danger: +0
• Savior: +3
• Superior: +1
• Mundane: -2

Spoiler: Moves

Show

• [X] Fight the good fight: When you pull your punches while directly engaging a threat, you can roll + Savior instead of + Danger. If you do, you cannot choose to impress, surprise, or frighten your foe.
• [X]The legacy matters: When you take Influence over someone from your legacy (or give them Influence over you), mark potential and take +1 forward. When someone from your legacy causes your Labels to shift, mark potential and take +1 forward.

Errant focuses his attention on JigaWatt. "Not quite as solid as that. We almost disrupted a much bigger win for the 'big leaguers', and put the innocents in greater peril. Not to ment-" Aiden's train of thought is interrupted as a waitress arrives to take the newcomers' orders. "One strawberry milkshake, m'lady."

"Anyway. Delphi says this is a lot bigger. This New Dawn group is a big deal. We shouldn't be messing with them on our own. Delphi will put in a good word for us, maybe Sunchot will bring us in on this."

[Captain Jak]

JigaWatt
Conditions:
Potential: 3/5

Spoiler: Labels

Show

• Freak: +2
• Danger: -1
• Savior: +2
• Superior: +2
• Mundane: -2

Spoiler: Moves

Show

• Stage-fighting: When you directly engage a threat with an audience watching, mark a condition to roll + Superior instead of Danger.
  
  
• Time for the show: When you put on a flamboyant display of your powers, roll + Superior.
  On a 7-9, name one NPC present.
  On a 10+, name two NPCs present.
  The named NPCs must either volunteer help or information, express admiration, or ask for your help, GM’s choice.
  On a miss, your display catches someone watching in the wrong way.
  
  
• Suck it, Domitian: When you stand strong while dramatically under fire, roll + Savior instead of + Danger to directly engage a threat.

JigaWatt waves a hand in dismissal of Errant's concerns.

"Hey, we did nothing wrong," he says earnestly, focusing on Errant. "Hindsight is great and all, but we had zero way of knowing that anyone else was doing anything about this; for all we knew, if it wasn't us, it was nobody and those kids were gonna keep getting shafted." He sounds quite certain about this.

"And since I'm not going to sit around and do nothing just in case someone else might also be looking into it, I'm not gonna be sorry, 'cause I'll do it again. And so would you," he adds, flashing a grin at Errant.

"We didn't end up screwing up that operation, and those kids and scientists know that we were there for them, and we got them out from under. So don't be down on yourself, man! Hell, you found out stuff, too, you keep mentioning this whole 'New Dawn' group; what's up with that?" he asks. He hadn't been about to reveal his ignorance in front of Sunshot, but now having the whole Team filled in on it seems like a good idea.

Spoiler: OOC:

Show

Comfort & Support (Errant): 9

Warm fuzzies redux! Mark potential, clear a condition, or shift Labels if Errant opens up in return!

[DreadPirateH]

Errant White
Conditions:
Potential: 4/5

Spoiler: Labels

Show

• Freak: -1
• Danger: +0
• Savior: +3
• Superior: +1
• Mundane: -2

Spoiler: Moves

Show

• [X] Fight the good fight: When you pull your punches while directly engaging a threat, you can roll + Savior instead of + Danger. If you do, you cannot choose to impress, surprise, or frighten your foe.
• [X]The legacy matters: When you take Influence over someone from your legacy (or give them Influence over you), mark potential and take +1 forward. When someone from your legacy causes your Labels to shift, mark potential and take +1 forward.

"It was good that we were there. I think it was Fate. Delphi said we were meant to be there tonight. And you're right, we couldn't have known. But we know now, and we need to make sure we don't go screwing this up. New Dawn sounds like a major threat. According to that scientist, this lab was only one of many. They are well-funded and well-supplied." Errant retrieves the suppression collar that he'd snagged after Sunshot set it aside. "They have AEGIS tech, and who knows what else. Fox, did you and Liminal find anything in that other lab?"

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Clearing Guilty, per JigaWatt's comfort.

[Kirjath]

Liminal
Conditions: Angry, Afraid
Potential: 3/5

Spoiler: Labels

Show

• Freak: +3
• Danger: -1
• Savior: +1
• Superior: +1
• Mundane: -1

Spoiler: Moves

Show

• The Mask: You wear a mask and hide your real identity. You embody Freak while wearing your mask.
  Once per session, you can affirm either your heroic or secret identity to switch your Mundane with your mask’s Label. When you reveal your secret identity to someone who didn’t know it already, mark potential.
  
  
• Mild-mannered: When you try to use your civilian identity to deceive, trick, or slip past someone, roll + Mundane. On a hit they buy your facade. On a 7-9, choose one:
  - you’re still under observation
  - you leave something incriminating behind
  - you’re forced to make a fool of yourself to sell it
  On a miss, one of your civilian obligations rears its ugly head.
  
  
• Game face: When you commit yourself to save someone or defeat a terrible enemy, mark a condition and take +1 ongoing to all rolls in direct pursuit of that goal. At the end of any scene in which you don’t make progress towards that goal, mark a condition. When you fulfill your goal, mark potential.

Liminal sipped on her soda quietly as the boys talked. JigaWatt hadn't brought up her angry rant towards him, which made her feel silly that she'd been worrying over it at all. In fact, none of them brought up the subject of her poor performance. Had she been overthinking it, or were they dodging the subject? Maybe all of her worries had been unnecessary. As their talk turned towards the League's involvement, Liminal had recovered enough to slip her social mask back on entirely.

"Perhaps we should get our missions from Delphi, then." Liminal rolled her eyes at Errant White. "Maybe she knows where we're meant to be next."

The sarcasm was unwarranted, but the facade was securely in place. Liminal pressed on quickly in case the knight took offense at her statement. "I found some notes in the Doctor's chicken scratch and more of that drug they were injecting into the kids. It may or may not have been the same dreck we saw back at the Embassy, I think they were testing it again."

Her voice wavered a bit, as she really hadn't seen all that much in the lab she could make sense of. She'd been a bit preoccupied during the search, and Fox hadn't been in the lab for that long. "I think this serum they're working on isn't just a mad science project. The doctor was working with magic."

[Malexia]

As you talk and eat and drink, a message arrives for each of you through Veil. It's another from Corax.

You surpassed my expectations. Victory on all fronts, and I'm already hard at work pursuing new leads. More to come, soon. Well, soon-ish. Thanks for the assist. I have every confidence you will be the ones to take down this criminal organization.

[Captain Jak]

JigaWatt
Conditions:
Potential: 4/5

Spoiler: Labels

Show

• Freak: +2
• Danger: -1
• Savior: +2
• Superior: +2
• Mundane: -2

Spoiler: Moves

Show

• Stage-fighting: When you directly engage a threat with an audience watching, mark a condition to roll + Superior instead of Danger.
  
  
• Time for the show: When you put on a flamboyant display of your powers, roll + Superior.
  On a 7-9, name one NPC present.
  On a 10+, name two NPCs present.
  The named NPCs must either volunteer help or information, express admiration, or ask for your help, GM’s choice.
  On a miss, your display catches someone watching in the wrong way.
  
  
• Suck it, Domitian: When you stand strong while dramatically under fire, roll + Savior instead of + Danger to directly engage a threat.

JigaWatt grins in reply to Liminal's report. "Oh hey, awesome," he tells her enthusiastically, still running high on how well everyone is responding to his leadership. "Good work on uncovering all that; glad to see you don’t waste all your time thinking up witty banter," he jokes – he feels like this is a good time to inject some humour.

The asynchronous buzz of everyone receiving a message interrupts him, and he quickly scans the message.

"All right, we done good, see? But – does anyone know anything about these Dawn dudes? What are we up against?" he asks again.

Spoiler: OOC:

Show

Comfort & Support (Liminal): 3

Somewhat cooler fuzzies! Marking potential!

[Kirjath]

Liminal
Conditions: Angry, Afraid
Potential: 3/5

Spoiler: Labels

Show

• Freak: +3
• Danger: -1
• Savior: +1
• Superior: +1
• Mundane: -1

Spoiler: Moves

Show

• The Mask: You wear a mask and hide your real identity. You embody Freak while wearing your mask.
  Once per session, you can affirm either your heroic or secret identity to switch your Mundane with your mask’s Label. When you reveal your secret identity to someone who didn’t know it already, mark potential.
  
  
• Mild-mannered: When you try to use your civilian identity to deceive, trick, or slip past someone, roll + Mundane. On a hit they buy your facade. On a 7-9, choose one:
  - you’re still under observation
  - you leave something incriminating behind
  - you’re forced to make a fool of yourself to sell it
  On a miss, one of your civilian obligations rears its ugly head.
  
  
• Game face: When you commit yourself to save someone or defeat a terrible enemy, mark a condition and take +1 ongoing to all rolls in direct pursuit of that goal. At the end of any scene in which you don’t make progress towards that goal, mark a condition. When you fulfill your goal, mark potential.

And just like that, her mask had fallen off again. Liminal just about choked on her soda as JigaWatt added in that last jab. He definitely hadn't forgotten about what she'd said, which made the whole "jovial leader" thing he was doing right now all the more irritating. Why didn't he just come out and say something earlier? Was he trying to keep this hanging over her head? She felt the tingling of anger prickle her skin again as her jaw clenched shut. The message from Corax didn't help either, as it seemed even the other heroes expected them to pull off another stunt like they had that evening.

All thoughts about apologizing for her earlier behavior had already vanished from her mind. Liminal shot JigaWatt a dark look as she took a napkin and wiped her mouth. Her usual social self was just as flippant as he was, but they'd all started talking about New Dawn like it was just a group of common thugs, and it was starting to bug her.

"Hm, what do we know about New Dawn?" She asked, her voice growing more heated as she stared at the electrical hero. "How about Dr. Moreau? The guy who threw me into a wall so hard, I could've died. The guy who manhandled Errant White like he was a child. He didn't seem like he was that high up the totem pole to me. And you know what? That terrifies me. What do we know about New Dawn? They might not be a match for your powers, JigaWatt, but I'm not invincible. Why don't you take things a bit more seriously next time? Because it seems like we're expected to do this again, and I don't know if tonight wasn't a fluke."

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Rolled a 6 on attempting to Pierce JigaWatt's mask.

[Razade]

Fox
Conditions:
Potential: 2/5

Perhaps giving Jigawatt the stage was a miscalculation. He and Liminal, at it again. Not without merit, he felt, from the latter. Jigawatt's particular lack of care had risked the mission at the outset and while he apparently had finished the mess he'd made, it would probably have been better if he hadn't made it in the first place. He couldn't shake the feeling that Liminal was justified then, or now even if Jigawatt had deigned to give a clap for a job well done.

"Why would Liminal need to waste their time on that, when we have you." Fox grumbles, tapping a nail against the table. "We concur, least we take a job well done too well. You recklessly endangered the team, you risked injuring Liminal and you forget you risked injuring yourself. What would you have done if we were not there to preoccupy the guard? What if they had simply began executing their prisoners? We did well, but we got lucky. This is no matter to simply brush aside off one victory. Our enemy is nebulous, well funded and intent on seeing their goals complete. We have no funds or goals, against us they have the upper hand. Now they know we are here. How long do you think it will take for them to rectify that? We must be cautious."

Way more than he'd thought to say, way more than he probably should have. So he simply stood, motioning to the door. "We are done here."

[DreadPirateH]

Errant White
Conditions:
Potential: 5/5

Spoiler: Labels

Show

• Freak: -1
• Danger: +0
• Savior: +3
• Superior: +1
• Mundane: -2

Spoiler: Moves

Show

• [X] Fight the good fight: When you pull your punches while directly engaging a threat, you can roll + Savior instead of + Danger. If you do, you cannot choose to impress, surprise, or frighten your foe.
• [X]The legacy matters: When you take Influence over someone from your legacy (or give them Influence over you), mark potential and take +1 forward. When someone from your legacy causes your Labels to shift, mark potential and take +1 forward.

Errant watches Fox leave, dumbfounded. "I don't think I've ever heard him say that much," he says after Fox has made his exit.

His frothy pink milkshake arrives along with JigaWatt's potato skins, and Aiden lifts up the bascinet on his helm just enough to get the straw to his mouth, slurping in the aftermath.

Venturing to continue the discussion, he pipes in. "Liminal's right, Dr. Moreau put us through the wringer. Whoever New Dawn is, they could be too much for us on our own. The League seems to know about them, maybe more than Corax. And if Corax knows more than she's letting on, she isn't sharing. Neither are good for us. If we're going to keep working on this, we should try to work with the League."

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Rolled a 5 to support Liminal in the Discord. Marking Potential.

[Malexia]

"...we should try to work with the League."

We see the exterior of Crossroads as Fox slips into the night. Then the city, with the Warrens in the distance like a colorless scar amidst the brilliantly-lit metropolis nightscape. And beyond... the Ward: an island off the coast of Halcyon City where criminals with powers are held by AEGIS.

The Ward is getting more guests tonight.

---

Halcyon City, the Ward. Saturday 1:13 AM, 14th of September, 2019.

A disheveled man paces in his cell, divested of villainous uniform and toxic vials. He is a revenant of fury and disgust.

"Children, blasted children! Impossible, just impossible, and the audacity!" He rattles the bars of his cell and screeches to an uncaring audience, "You won't hear the last of me, you understand that? I'll get my revenge!"

He's hardly the only one spitting such oaths, but of the three supervillains brought into the Ward tonight by the League, he's the only one who got his rear handed to him by people who aren't old enough to buy liquor. For a man who has enough ego to unironically name himself Dr. Moreau... that's going to sting.

He keeps muttering and raving and pacing until a polite cough tears through his rant.

Moreau whirls around and sees exactly who he was afraid to see: a man and a woman in expensive suits and matching sunglasses, with jet-black hair and facial features similar enough to be siblings or twins. The man is holding a strange mechanical device in one hand that whirrs and beeps, while the woman has her arms crossed. They both smile at the villain.

The woman says, "Good evening, Doctor. Enjoying the accomodations?" Her voice is smug and acidic, and her smile is mocking.

The man clicks his tongue. "No need to antagonize the man, Lethe. He's already suffered one indignity tonight." His voice is melodious and smooth, and his smile seems sincere.

Moreau backs away from the bars and casts them both a wary glance, for once setting aside his ego for the sake of caution. "Lethe. Styx. What are you doing here? Did... did he send you?"

Styx's smile loses its warmth. "We always act in the interests of our employer. It's simply professional."

Lethe smirks. "You wouldn't understand, Doctor. But that's okay; even the simple brute has a purpose he can be proud to serve."

"The issue, you see, is when one's purpose runs out. When the value you possess dries up. When you become... obselete."

Dr. Moreau snarls and rises to his full height, fists clenched. "You... you hellspawn. We had a deal. You and your boss, you types are supposed to honor your bargains, aren't you?" Fear and anger seem to be building in equal measure, and his voice cracks on the last word.

"Doctor, a contract binds all parties involved. If you wanted us to keep our part of the deal, you really shouldn't have gone and gotten yourself captured. The contract was very clear about revealing secrets to the enemy." Lethe's contempt for the hack geneticist drips from every word.

The fear starts to overtake Moreau's anger. "I... I wouldn't tell them, you know that, right? I would never. I have no love for the League, and I understand very well what happens to those who cross your boss. I'd never betray New Dawn."

Lethe giggles, a girlish sound that utterly belies her cold exterior. "Oh, Doc, that's just cute. You think you'd have a choice. Everyone likes to think they have free will, Doctor, but it's the world's cutest lie. The League has telepaths. Diviners. Psychics. Empaths. They don't need your truths, they don't need your betrayal, they don't even need your consent. They can just take whatever information they want from your small, pathetic mind. The best part? It would be completely legal, at least according to their lawyers and AEGIS. Can you imagine that, Doctor? A League telepath poking around your brain and sifting through your memories. A dark, vicious little worm crawling into your thoughts and devouring your so-called free will." She shivers at the thought, and the faintest trace of a genuine smile touches her lips. "Magnificent."

Moreau takes a step back, then another. "I... You're monsters, the both of you. And I won't let you take me. I won't. Not you, not the League, not anyone. I am Dr. Moreau, the world's greatest genetic scientist. I will-"

Styx interrupts him with, "I'm getting bored of this. Sister dearest, we do have two more stops after this."

Lethe curtsies. "Of course, brother."

It's over in five seconds.

Lethe steps through the bars of the cell, gliding between them like river-water around a stone. She grabs Moreau by the wrist and pulls him close, and she breathes in. Wisps of cold blue light pour into her from Moreau's eyes, ears, and mouth. She drinks deep from the cup of his memories, and then she pushes him away and licks her lips before stepping back to stand next to her brother.

Moreau staggers, vision blurry and a ringing noise in his ears. He clutches his head and looks around, disoriented. "What am I... where am I... what's going on? What happened? How did I get here?" Panic starts to creep into his voice as he finds himself in an unknown place. His gaze sweeps the cell and beyond for any explanation, but he is alone.

Lethe and Styx watch Moreau from the shadows, cloaked by the device in Styx's hand. Lethe murmurs, "A tasty snack, but not very filling. I hope the others are more of a meal."

Styx pats his sister on the shoulder. "I'm sure we'll find a nice mind for you to devour. It's a very big city. I know someone out there will be just perfect for you."

Lethe grins, and then they both slip away in search of their next victim.

End of Issue One

[Malexia]

Issue Two

It's been a fairly uneventful two weeks, at least by your standards. After your big fight with Moreau and the New Dawn, everything else seems peanuts by comparison. You foiled a plot by the Ketchup Catastrophe, helped rescue kittens from a burning buildings, and had an encounter with a talking pineapple, but that's pretty mundane to a resident of Halcyon City.

You haven't learned anything new about New Dawn, the secret cabal that masterminded the attack on Human Interest by artificially-created metahumans. The attacks haven't stopped either, three more have happened since the raid on the lab, and you weren't there to stop them this time, though other heroes eventually got to the scene and prevented any real casualties.

The League has been awfully quiet, too; you expected them to tell the city something after the raid, but not a word has escaped them. They're keeping the existence of New Dawn a secret, and that's starting to cause problems. Without a specific group to target, Human Interest and their sympathizers are targeting all their blame at the metahuman community as a whole.

The city is on edge... and this is just the beginning.

---

Halcyon City, SBC Tower. Thursday 3:00 PM, 26th of September, 2019.

A man who is the living definition of milquetoast smiles for the camera as he plays his role. Adam Gerard, anchor at Serenity Broadcasting Corporation, Halcyon's own locals news-corp. He shuffles some papers that have no actual writing on them and says, "To everyone just tuning in, we're about to start tonight's episode of Dueling Philosophies, a segment where we pit two public figures of radically different ideologies against each other for fun and learning, because who doesn't love a good bit of edutainment? Will they learn from each other and change their position based on new information, or will they hunker down and reinforce their existing beliefs as part of an antideluvian animal instinct? Keep watching to find out!"

He flashes his winning wink and shuffles his papers again. He looks down at them and pretends to read the writing that isn't there before returning his full attention to the camera. "Wow, do we have some special guests for you tonight or what?"

A graphic appears beside him showing a glamorous headshot of June Lang. "On one side of the aisle we have June Lang, CEO of Junebug Technologies and major donor to baseline advocacy group Human Interest, a grassroots movement born of concern over the increasing metahuman population and their effect on the world. June Lang has given hundreds of millions to charitable organizations, with a promise to donate her entire fortune to charity on death, but has also been accused of shady business practices, bribing politicians, and intentionally manufacturing Human Interest in order to gain political power."

The photo of Lang is replaced by a clean, functional photo of Sentinel. "In contrast to such a controversial figure we have Sentinel, beloved superhero and leader of the Halcyon League, Halcyon City's own dedicated superhero team. Sentinel has been with the city for two decades, and has turned down multiple invitations to join the Watchtower, citing a sense of loyalty to Halcyon as the city where he truly came into his own as a superhero. Under his leadership the Halcyon League has worked to expand its influence over the city through secondary teams and community outreach programs, most notably their Hero-in-Training program, a prestigious apprenticeship offered to many superpowered teens."

"Sentinel has often refused to comment on any of Ms. Lang's criticisms of the League, such as her accusation that the Hero-in-Training program is akin to recruiting child soldiers, but today we're talking about a wholly different topic to the usual points of disagreement between these two, and so Sentinel has finally agreed to sit down and talk. Without further ado, let's duel!"

The camera feed switches from Adam Gerard at his desk to the classic "talking heads" structure, with a framed video of Adam placed between video of Sentinel on the left and Lang on the right.

Lang is sophisticated as always, with thousand-dollar earrings and the finest makeup money can buy. Her hair is pulled back into a bun, and elegant glasses frame her face perfectly. Sentinel is, of course, wearing his classic outfit: a flowing white cape, a wrought-iron helmet that covers everything but his mouth, and his signature blue-and-white tower shield. His cape is fluttering slightly in the wind, even though you're pretty sure he's inside a building right now.

Adam opens the debate. "Now, recently there's been a lot of buzz surrounding Human Interest and the metahuman attacks on it. Some in Halcyon City have raised concerns that the League doesn't seem to be doing much about this rising crisis. Your thoughts, Sentinel?"

Sentinel's voice is about as deep and masculine as you'd expect, but there's a smoothness to it that might surprise you. "The League is taking this matter very seriously. Our greatest responsibility is protecting Halcyon City and all its citizens, and I assure you we are doing everything we can to try and limit the damage of these attacks. The last two attacks were both ended by members of the League's secondary teams, who acted with a level of swiftness and surety that ensured minimal injuries and no fatalities whatsoever. The League will continue to commit its members to stopping these attacks as they happen, and our primary team is hard at work investigating the source of these attacks. We will bring the perpetrators of these attacks to justice."

June Lang raises an eyebrow. "That's pretty convenient for you, isn't it? Crazed metahumans attacking your political opponents must be nice, especially when you get to play the hero after the damage has already been done. Maybe you should start policing your own people, Sentinel, instead of letting them run rampant over mine. The longer you allow this crisis to continue, the more you endorse this awful politically-motivated violence."

Adam raises his hand to interject something but is immediately cut off with a scowl from Sentinel.

"Don't fling that inflammatary rhetoric at me, Lang. You know the League's never operated like that. We defend everyone in Halcyon City no matter their affiliation, and we've never been motivated by politics. We've even protected a few of your holdings, and you make a sport out of mocking us on social media."

"You claim lofty ideals, but where's the evidence? Where's the oversight? AEGIS is complicit in your sins and lets you operate like a sovereign nation. What about the Alinor debacle? What about the 39th Street scandal? What about Breadgate, Sentinel? How can we know you're truly working to stop this if you shroud everything you do in cloak and dagger?"

Sentinel's scowl deepens. "Solving this crisis is a delicate matter that requires trust. There are more victims involved than I think you're seeing, and being reckless is going to get them hurt. We've made great strides in uncovering the source of these attacks, and we can absolutely confirm that there is a singular source, but if we share too much information we risk alerting the real enemy here and giving them a chance to go to ground. Would you sacrifice weeks of legwork and a chance at ending this tragedy for the sake of a little transparency? Operations like this have to remain covert until all objectives have been accomplished."

Lang scoffs. "How jingoistic of you. Who gave you the right to hide information like that from the people? To conceal the nature of the very foe that threatens them? Who gave you the right to be the Halcyon City secret police, Sentinel?" Her sneering look of superiority turns into a smug smile and she adds, "Was it your predecessor?"

Adam winces, and Sentinel goes absolutely still and quiet. He holds like that for a long moment, and then, low and guttural, says, "That was a low blow, Lang, even for you. We're done here. Go back to your war profiteering."

Sentinel's video feed vanishes, and Lang's smile only widens.

To Adam, she remarks, "I think that went well. You?"

Adam coughs into his hand and adjusts his tie. "Yes, uh, definitely. Some good talking, some right great talking we had. Uh, thank you so much to Ms. Lang for donating her time, and thank you to Sentinel as well. Your opinions are always appreciated."

With a final, knowing look, Lang smirks at Adam. "Same time next week, Gerard." And then she's gone too.

---

Halcyon City, Everywhere. Thursday 5:00 PM, 26th of September, 2019.

Social media is buzzing with talk of the debate, but in a few days they'll find something new to latch on to.

What I want to know is... what are you doing? How do each of you spend an average Thursday night?

[Razade]

Fox
Conditions:
Potential: 3/5

Kye keeps himself busy. Partly because it keeps him from doing stupid things, like getting arrested again, partly because as he's grown older he's had to assume more responsibility with the remaining Black Knights and what little they have left and lastly...the hero stuff. He's not done too much in that regard since the last job, eager to spend time with the books Corax gave him and penning enough notes and questions for their next meeting to fill a small book himself. The drive to find the other named books on Corax's list consumes what free time he does have.

Panels show his busy two weeks first however. There's work at Camp Joy with Hastings, talking to villain teens and helping with lectures and what have you. Meetings of his own with Hastings, weekly still at this stage though he reckoned it was more out of personal concern from the lady than mandate. She knew a lot...a lot more than she should...about Kye. About the Black Knights. She was involved in that now and while she had, as of yet, not pushed, the meetings grew a lot less by the books and a lot more...familial once he'd divulged the worst parts of what led him to be locked up in an AEGIS cell. His parents, his people, the pressure. Hastings had dropped, more than once over the two weeks, that Delphi was eager for a meeting. It'd be the first in months, he's countered, not wanting to go through with something awkward. Hastings had said he could reach out or she'd take responsibility into her own hands.

He'd ignored her.

The panels move to the Black Knights. "Family" gathers, no more than ten of them now. The bakery, the early mornings and the late nights. He may not have been old enough to buy beer in the city but his people were less worried about that. They had been warriors, and warriors were more liberal when it came to that sort of thing. If you could die at any moment what was the point in telling a young fresh warrior what he could and couldn't drink. He was a man to the Knights, a true Son of Albion and the yeasty, malty brew they made was available to any who were out on the streets working. Fox had earned a pint, in their estimation. It helped get him dancing, it helped get him singing. Most of all it helped keep his mind off the team, who very well could be off doing their own heroing. Though if they were, they knew to bring him along. He wasn't one to turn down work.

Baking bread was its own thing, working at the bakery another. Hard work, on your feet in a hot room. Dough was tough, kneading all day a work out. Gave him a good source of anger release though. Punching dough wasn't going to do much but knead it, it could always be reformed. He imagined the dough as faces most days, punching and pounding it into shape, slamming it against the table with hefty thuds. When his arms were too sore to do that, he'd finally throw it into the mixers but it wasn't the same. Bread made by hand always tasted better, that's what his uncles and aunts would say. You could taste the effort, the joy, the worry, all of it. Baked into the bread, a testament to all one's hard labor. Part of him wanted to keep a loaf or two, share it with the team...Errant might figure something out though. The Albians, and the Black Knights no different, were masters at bread making. It was a cultural staple, a dietary staple and a mark of cultural pride. He'd decided against it numerous times. The last loafs were no different. The steam took his hopes with it.

The panels finally move to his search. Drifting from dark, musty bookstore to dark, musty bookstore. From one corner of Halcyon to the other, what little money he had he'd offer. He made notes of places to rob when they were asking for too much. He even dared, very briefly, to sneak into the Albian section of the city to hunt them down. They were important or else they wouldn't have been on the list. They were stepping stones to more power and if there was anything that consumed him, it was that.

The final panels show his phone. A text from Delphi and a text from Sara Hastings. Both saying more or less the same thing. A meeting place, a time that afternoon and no room for negotation, no room to refuse. Which is where he was en route to this very moment. He'd done his best to keep his distance of course. Too many memories to bring up, too many bad feelings. She was too close, too eager to remain so. He cursed ever keeping her safe in the Camp. He cursed himself for thinking that. It wasn't going to be a very good day, at this rate.

[Malexia]

Fox

Corax's payment proves to be a treasure trove of magical knowledge, and for the first time since the loss of so many Knights you feel the world of magic opening up to you, filling with limitless potential.

Spoiler: Spells

Show

You greedily pore over every page and note down all you can, absorbing as much as possible. Magic is beautiful and powerful, but it can be difficult to learn for a mind not properly attuned. Magic isn't like science with its grand consistency and hard laws. Magic defies the very concept of a universal standard and instead is filled with small, esoteric rules that must be memorized. Each category of magic, each source of magic, each individual spell, they all have their own quirks that must be kept in mind.

The magic that Corax intends to teach you, sympathetic magic, is built on the concept of what Rowan calls "arcane entanglement," the idea that two objects can be connected through spiritual links. A lock of hair is connected to the head it was recently cut from. A pottery shard bound to a shattered urn. A trinket bound to someone who often held it for comfort. Two strands of a greater web. With possession of such a linked object and the necessary magical knowledge, one can manipulate the other strands in that arcane web.

Rowan's manual contains whole chapters on curses, hexes, and worse, but the book's introduction makes it clear that sympathetic magic is very risky to use for such purposes, as using it for harm can incur strong karmic backlash. Learning sympathetic magic in the order the book advises, the first chapter is on object location, broken into the two sub-categories of tracking and scrying. You're a quick learner, and by now you think you have a pretty strong grasp on sympathetic tracking, but the nuances of scrying evade you, and you suspect you'll need some help from Corax to master that field.

Spoiler: Books

Show

Aside from their magical knowledge, the books are an interesting view into the various philosophies of their writers. Bartimaeus is everything you expect, and his tome is a slog to get through that barely seems relevant to your current coursework. Pricefield's Runes Through the Ages is dense but useful, with a strong emphasis on using language and physical writing to focus complex spells. Discerning the Transversal Web is the most immediately relevant to sympathetic magic, and you can see that Rowan's functional concept of the arcane web is adapted from the more philosophical explanation of the web that Azaros gives.

For all the focus on functionality and practicality in A Practical Guide to Sympathetic Magic, it has A.S. Rowan's philosophy all over it. The author suggests all sorts of creative and unexpected way to use basic spells, and asserts that no spell is inherently good or evil, and leaves moralistic determinations for the spellcaster to decide. In the book's introductory chapter, the author writes, "The goal of a magic user should always be power, for with power one can accomplish any goal. Justice or injustice, hope or despair, growth or ruin, all must come from power. And the path to power is, of course, through knowledge."

As for that list of required reading, your research reveals pertinent information. The first two manuscripts are more of Zinthia Azaros's catalogue, obscure and rarely-copied. You find one in a back-alley rare book store for a price point several thousand dollars beyond your bank account. The other you track to a rich collector who maintains a handful of properties in Halcyon City and has public ties to Junebug Technologies.

One is an Albion text, kept cloistered within their private libraries.

Three of the tomes are held as a group inside the Sunset Sparkle Cultural Museum, a Halcyon gallery named for one of the city's more philanthrophic superheroes. The trio of books is kept hidden from the public, as they are fragile and currently being transcribed for digitization. Only specially-selected scholars are allowed to see them.

The last book is another by A.S. Rowan, titled A Practical Guide to Demons and Dragons. As Rowan seems impossible to find, you suspect the only way to obtain this last tome will be from Corax herself.

Your visits to Camp Joy give you a uniquely ground-level perspective on the recent violence between New Dawn's experiments and Human Interest. Lots of teens are shipped in after being found in the possession of the meta-drug, showing off wild powers and acting terrified or power-drunk for the few days it takes for the powers to fully wear off. Some are relieved when these new abilities dissipate, and some will require extra counseling. Some of the new arrivals have no direct connection to the drug hitting the streets, but instead are victims of persecution by Human Interest and just want a place to hide. You do what you can for them.

Your time at the bakery is happier, and for a few brief moments you can lose yourself in the work and in the bonds of community. But the shadow of the world outside always creeps in. You know there won't be true happiness, there won't be peace. Not until all debts are settled.

Perhaps a debt to Hastings is why you agreed to this meeting. Perhaps a touch of soft-heartedness. Irrelevant.

Delphi - Penny - is waiting for you at the spot she's picked out, a quiet cafe attached to a bookstore. Her favorite bookstore, you note from a half-remembered conversation. It's not an exceptional bookstore by any means, beyond being a brick-and-mortar shop in this digital age, but it has the weight of memory for her. She's sitting at one of the outdoor tables, a glass-and-metal table with one of those umbrella poles that shelters from rain and sun. She's discarded her Delphi outfit for more normal clothing, and she looks perfectly normal, like any other bookish young girl. Never the type to stand out in a crowd, never the type to stand out at all.

When you met Penelope Nicolatzi, she was in a dark place. She had been an ordinary teen until the Oracle of Delphi, a prophetic spirit from ancient Greece, chose her as its next host. Penny struggled with a newfound connection to magic and a "gift" of random prophecies. She ended up in Camp Joy willingly, desperate for a solution. You helped her, then. Protected her from those who were drawn to her weakness and vulnerability. She was grateful for your help. She wanted to be close to you - not in a romantic way, but close all the same.

Then... Sunshot. The Leaguer found Delphi and for the first time was able to give her a solution, if not an ideal one: join Sunshot, join the League as his apprentice and sidekick, and he would teach her how to control the Oracle just like he controlled his own Apollonic powers, since the two were linked. Sunshot told her it was her destiny. Her Fate.

Penny sees you and jumps to her feet, waving excitedly and calling your name. "Sit down, sit down! I already ordered drinks."

[Kirjath]

Liminal
Conditions: Angry, Afraid
Potential: 3/5

Spoiler: Labels

Show

• Freak: +2
• Danger: -1
• Savior: +1
• Superior: +2
• Mundane: -1

Spoiler: Moves

Show

• The Mask: You wear a mask and hide your real identity. You embody Freak while wearing your mask.
  Once per session, you can affirm either your heroic or secret identity to switch your Mundane with your mask’s Label. When you reveal your secret identity to someone who didn’t know it already, mark potential.
  
  
• Mild-mannered: When you try to use your civilian identity to deceive, trick, or slip past someone, roll + Mundane. On a hit they buy your facade. On a 7-9, choose one:
  - you’re still under observation
  - you leave something incriminating behind
  - you’re forced to make a fool of yourself to sell it
  On a miss, one of your civilian obligations rears its ugly head.
  
  
• Game face: When you commit yourself to save someone or defeat a terrible enemy, mark a condition and take +1 ongoing to all rolls in direct pursuit of that goal. At the end of any scene in which you don’t make progress towards that goal, mark a condition. When you fulfill your goal, mark potential.
  
  
• Thick and thin skinned: Whenever you have Angry marked, take +1 ongoing to unleash your powers.

If she'd thought the raid on the New Dawn base was the worst possible way the evening could've gone down, Teagan was quickly proven wrong. The door to her apartment closed quietly behind her as the heroine stared about her apartment in disbelief. The whole place had been tossed. Not haphazardly or with malice, but as if the intruder had been looking for something. She called out for her brother, Ryan, and her heart skipped a beat as the boy waddled out of her room with an unhappy look on his face and incredibly dirty looking hands. Given the look on her brother's face, and the fact that the locks on their door still worked, Teagan was certain it'd been her parents. They didn't come home often, but they always left a mess when they did. She quickly picked up her brother, the little toddler immediately grabbing for her hair with his sticky fingers, and made her way towards the apartment's only bedroom.

The chaos in the room was worse than the living room had been. There was only one reason her parents ever made this sort of a mess: they'd been looking for money. Teagan stretched out a hand and brushed aside an overturned dresser in a panic as she looked for her secret hiding panel behind one of the baseboards. Her body froze as she stared at the empty nook near the floor. Ryan tugged gently on her shirt as he made some unintelligible noises, but she wasn't paying attention. After a moment, Teagan leaned back into the wall of her bedroom for support, burying her face in one hand.

They'd taken everything. Whatever money she'd been saving up for that months rent, plus maybe some new diapers and detergent for laundry, was gone. It was probably a joint effort by her parents, as her father wouldn't have had the patience to find the hidden panel, and her mother wouldn't have bothered moving something like a heavy dresser around. Teagan shook with rage as she imagined the scene that had played out earlier. They'd have been on drugs to even consider something this low, and she couldn't decide whether that made the betrayal better or worse. They hadn't even bothered with taking care of Ryan before they left, almost ignoring his presence entirely.

Sadly, this hadn't been the first time for Teagan, nor would it likely be the last. She let out a stream of curses, which caused Ryan to start crying. It took a solid half hour before she managed to calm down again. Soon, Ryan was fed and put to bed and she'd begun cleaning the place up. The anger she still felt quickly gave way to the anxiety of losing her entire paycheck. Teagan knew she'd have to get extra shifts from Mr. Kelly in order to make rent that month. That meant less time for hero work, but it had to be done. If she was lucky, she wouldn't even see her parents again until the end of the month. They'd likely be crashing at a friend's place or sobering up in jail, but they'd be out of her hair all the same. Teagan wasn't sure what she'd do to them if they pulled this sort of thing again.

Too agitated to sleep, Teagan spent the rest of the evening pouring over a calendar and trying to figure out how much time she could spend working compared to her other duties. Dance class was the first to go, that was more of a hobby anyways. Maybe she could return next month, but it was going to take a lot of work to catch up again. Hero work was going to have to wait for a little while as well. Hopefully the team would understand. The next thing she knew, Teagan woke up to the sound of her brother crying again, drool slowly pooling onto the calendar she'd been seated over.

"I'm up, I'm up, you evil little thing." Teagan mumbled groggily as she stumbled over to the toddler's crib. It would be another exhausting morning picking up after the tiny tyrant and playing with him before she was off to speak to Mr. Kelly. She regretted leaving Ryan alone as often as she did, but Teagan didn't have much of a choice. A bar was no place for someone his age, so that meant leaving him with a babysitter. Well, the only version of a babysitter she had available. He'd spent so much time glued in front of the small television in their apartment, it could've been mistaken for the boy's actual parents.

Convincing the boss to give her more shifts was another problem. She'd actually missed a call-in from him just last night, and he wasn't pleased. There'd been an accident in the larder, and he'd had to call in all of his employees to clean up the mess and wait on the customers. Teagan was the only one who hadn't shown up, since she kept her phone on silent while she was off heroing. Mr. Kelly wasn't a harsh boss, but he was stern. As punishment for her absence, he'd given a number of her shifts to the other waitresses, and only after some solid pleading did he finally relent. She definitely wasn't going to be able to miss work anytime soon, especially not for hero business.

And so, perhaps the only actual adventure she'd had with the team over those two weeks had been with the talking pineapple. The absolute highlight of her week. It wasn't particularly exciting, but it had been the one break she'd had over the past two weeks of double-shifts and her watching her increasingly sticky-fingered brother. She was just about to nod off at the bar during a rather slow Thursday shift when Mr. Kelly turned up the tv. It was some talk show or other, but as soon as Teagan recognized the Sentinel, she knew why she'd been daydreaming about the Hero-in-Training program again.

"Go home, Tea." Mr. Kelly rumbled as he crossed his arms. He never did care for "cape-talk", as he called it, but he didn't change the channel. "Not a lot of customers tonight, I'm closin' early."

Teagan frowned, as that would certainly cut into her paycheck. "I'll help you clean the stockroom, Mr. Kelly." She yawned.

"You did that earlier." He shook his head and finally reached up to turn the tv off. "And you look like the walking dead, girl; get some sleep."

She nodded wearily, a little too tired to put up a proper fight at this point. Teagan had made some progress getting her rent money back over the last two weeks, but it had cost her quite a bit of sleep. She made her way to the locker room in the back, changing out of her work uniform and clocking out for the evening. She likely wasn't going to have the energy to do much else that night, but going home to see Ryan again and then crashing on her couch didn't sound like the worst idea.

[Captain Jak]

JigaWatt
Conditions:
Potential: 0/5

Spoiler: Labels

Show

• Freak: +3
• Danger: -2
• Savior: +2
• Superior: +2
• Mundane: -2

Spoiler: Moves

Show

• Stage-fighting: When you directly engage a threat with an audience watching, mark a condition to roll + Superior instead of Danger.
  
  
• Time for the show: When you put on a flamboyant display of your powers, roll + Superior.
  On a 7-9, name one NPC present.
  On a 10+, name two NPCs present.
  The named NPCs must either volunteer help or information, express admiration, or ask for your help, GM’s choice.
  On a miss, your display catches someone watching in the wrong way.
  
  
• The gossip mags: When you tap into the gossip and rumor of the celebrity industry for information on an important city figure, roll + Superior. On a hit, you can ask the GM questions. On a 10+, ask three. On a 7-9, ask one:
  - What are they up to?
  - What or who do they most care about?
  - What allies do they have? Enemies?
  - Where and when can I find them?
  - How could I make them vulnerable to me?
  On a miss, ask one anyway, but they hear about your interest in them.
  
• Suck it, Domitian: When you stand strong while dramatically under fire, roll + Savior instead of + Danger to directly engage a threat.

Our opening panel depicts Lucan pacing in what the Amp'd would recognize as his bedroom, cell phone to his ear and a stressed look on his face. Tiny little notes depict hold music; one of the worst tortures known to man.

"Aw, c'mon, man, this is bull!," he gripes, turning to pace back again across the small room. "Ain't nobody got time for this; this is why people text, you know!" It's fairly clear he's a little upset once he starts talking to himself.

And he has reason to be. He had hurriedly thrown together a teaser video about The Mission, with just enough to get his fans interested without giving anything away. It had generated a lot of buzz, and he had been poised with a couple of different edits to hit the 'Tube once he saw what the official story was detailing.

And he waited. And waited.

Days had passed. Pressure from the Amp increased, wanting to see the promised content. He released another teaser, skirting the edges of what he'd promised to withhold, but that had only held them for so long. Grumbles were arising now, with claims that he was just posing for attention in the senselessly brutal syntax that seems reserved for YouTube comments.

So it has come to this; using his phone as a phone, on hold with the League PR department. Or at least, trying to get through to the PR department. It's proving distressingly difficult, even after he drops both his name and that of Sunshot.

"Lucan? You taken out that garbage yet?" The voice of Mama J carried with it a dread weight; chores.

"Ma! I told you, I gotta do this phone call! It's important!" he calls back, moving his phone away so as to not deafen someone on the other end should they choose that very moment to finally answer. He needs to get through, to find out when the information is going public so he can go public. He's been trying to fill the promised gap with some content of his usual stripe; stunts, power displays, and so on – but had been meeting with limited success.

Once you promise something juicy and new, the masses are less inclined to accept the same-old.

"You know what else is important? Your mother is important! Your chores are important! The fact that you use one to get the other to pay for that phone is – wait for it – important!" Despite being down the hall and in the living room, Mama J has no difficulty making herself heard. She never does; the woman has the lungs of a drill sergeant, whether pleased or pissed.

"Aw, c'mon, Ma!" Lucan protests, emerging from his room and heading down the hall toward the living room. "I've already been on hold here for, like, forever! If I miss this, they might never let me through. You know what this means to me!" It's got to have been at least fifteen minutes – how ridiculous is that!

"Lucan Horace Herald," his mother replies, shaking her head. She's a short woman, comfortably padded, with skin and eyes as dark as his own. She's still in scrubs from her shift at the hospital, and he feels a pang of guilt for having this argument when she's still unwinding from work with an episode of whichever crime procedural show she was currently binging. But only a momentary one as he thinks of his audience.

"There are times I don't know what to do with you, my boy," she says ruefully, and he feels a current of relief as he realises a stay of execution is on the line. Despite seeming a real hard-ass at time, Mama J always has his back.

"You're being too soft on the boy again, Jocelyn." The voice isn't unkind, but it is cool and precise compared to the bubbling energy of Mama J.

"Mama B, you're home. I...was not aware," Lucan says with chagrin, feeling his brief moment of succor slipping away. Despite the stereotype of the loud, firm-disciplining black mother, it's Mama B who is often has the final say. A stark contrast to Mama J, she is tall and elegant, her fair skin, platinum hair and startlingly blue eyes belying an ancestry a great deal further north than that of her wife. Also still dressed in work clothes, she must have just recently arrived home; a professor's professional attire is far less comfortable than scrubs to spend the evening in, and Mama B usually changes shortly after arriving home.

"He's just enthusiastic about his show, Bridgette dear," Mama J says, a smile lighting up her face as always as she speaks to her wife. As much as Lucan misses his dad, he can't fault his moms' happiness in finding each other after he was killed in action overseas.

"There is nothing wrong with enthusiasm," Mama B replies with a faint smile. "Few things of any worth are ever accomplished without it. However," she continues, turning those blue eyes upon Lucan, "I believe Lucan recalls very well the agreement we have regarding his extracurricular activities."

Lucan wants to grind his teeth...because she's right. "I can make content for my channel as long as it doesn't interfere with my schooling or my chores," he sighs. Looking at his phone, he can see that he's been on hold for nearly twenty minutes now – he's pretty sure they pushed the 'ignore' button rather than the hold one.

"I'm sorry, moms," he apologizes, hanging up the phone and sliding it into the front pocket of his jeans. "I'm just frustrated. I got this big thing to release that 'm supposed to wait on the official stuff first, but they're not coming out with it! Kittens aren't gonna keep my fans happy for long," he laments. An understatement, as many of the Amp'd had blasted the fire video from the outset, defended primarily by his small 14-21 female demographic.

"I'm certain you will figure it out, Lucan. You are a very bright young man," Mama B says warmly, passing him in the hallway and heading for the master bedroom. "And don't take too long; Door Dash should be here with dinner in a few minutes."

Door Dash usually meant Tooloulou's and Lucan's stomach rumbles at the thought of the creole dishes that were incoming.

"I'm going, I'm going!" he says with a laugh, and grabs the garbage bags set by the door to take down to the curb for morning collection. He is a very bright young man; he's got this.

-= * * * =-

A couple hours after dinner Lucan is seated before his camera, the laptop in his room hooked up to it and showing the feed. He can't put pressure on the League, certainly not if he can't get through to them. He certainly doesn't want to mess anything up, but he's not going to sit on his story forever; his fans want to know!

The debate between Lang and Sentinal that had been on the TV during dinner had catalysed things for him, however. Sunshot's words two weeks ago had pointed the finger at Lang for the League's ongoing issues. If the information wasn't being released, surely she has something to do with it. And if he's going to figure out why the League is sitting on important stuff the public should know, he's going to need information.

Hitting the controls for a live feed, he watches the timer countdown while he prepares himself, the background framed behind him displaying his usual room backing his fans have come to expect.

The timer hit zero, and the red light came on.

"Hey there, my Amp'd, and welcome once more to Watt's Up!" he says cheerfully, smiling his trademark smile. "We've got a very special edition going today ---- we're going to try something a little different. Instead of our usual AMA, I am going to as you all something," he says in a conspiratorial tone. "Just make sure you keep it on the DL, hear?" A large portion of his fanbase identified as rebels and malcontents; an appeal to keep things from The Man might just work.

"June Lang, CEO of Junebug Technologies," he says, getting serious. "What's the real deal with her and Human Interest?" He pitches his tone to fall somewhere between questioning and accusing. "Where does she get off putting pressure on the League? What's her end game on this?"

He leans forward slightly, looking earnest.

"If you've got ideas, comment below. If you've got something sensitive, slide it into my DMs. All my Amp's are fly, I stan you all. You gonna come through for me, I know it. And very soon, whether the Man approves or not, you are getting the video I promised you! Peace, out." He flashes the camera a hand sign, then shuts off the feed.

Sitting back, he lets his breath out in a rush. Well, he may have just poked the bear, there. Let's hope it's worth it.

Spoiler: OOC:

Show

Ask The Gossip Mags: What's the deal with Lang? 7
Looking for anyone with an answer to 'What is she really up to?'

[Razade]

Fox
Conditions:
Potential: 3/5

Kye took his seat slowly, already glowering at the effusive and frankly uncomfortable greeting to side step any further public displays of familiarity. He was, unsurprisingly, not a hugger. Seeing her brought back all the memories, good and bad, and not even a nice seat on a nice day at a nice cafe could quell the bitter feelings from welling up. He'd wanted her to get help for her powers, sure, but Sunshot wasn't someone he particular trusted. The League either and now Delphi was a part of them and any arguments they'd had...and there were several, only seemed to drive her further to them.

Some part of him knew he was just worried that she wouldn't need him, worries that they couldn't protect her as well either. For as much gloom and stoic terror he wanted to summon as Fox, Kye wasn't some statue made of ice. Penny wanted to be close and Kye wanted that too, unable to express it though as he was. Her excitement didn't put any water on that particular burning problem either. "You didn't have to, I wasn't planning on staying long. Hastings said you wanted to see me so I'm here." he said with a little more gruffness than he honestly meant. Errant's rather pointed question from their last job still bounced around his head. Hastings wasn't the only one passing on messages.

"How do you two know each other?"

A more private setting might see him bring that up but so exposed? He'd hold her accountable later. Instead he merely folded his hands on the table, gold eyes sweeping over Penny in a motion before darting out at the road to watch cars zip by. Anything better than looking her in the eye. "I..." he started, fingers tapping out quick little notes of worry. "Got nothin'. What do you want?"

[Malexia]

Liminal, AKA Teagan

The night is unwelcoming as you leave Kelly's establishment behind. Cold, callous, and loud.

The city is always loud. Loud on weekdays, loud on weekends, loud in sunlight, loud in darkness. The noise is inescapable, especially for someone who can't afford noise-dampening walls. Cars honking and revving, the chitter-chatter of normal citizens talking inane nonsense to each other, the cawing of raucous scavenger birds, and miscellaneous auditory detritus. It's a wall of noise that slams you at every turned corner.

The perfect backdrop for another miserable night. You're overworked, exhausted, and what do you have to show for it? Not enough. Never enough. The world must hate a hard worker. The world must hate a smart girl. Or maybe the world just hates you.

That would explain why the two people in life who are supposed to love and cherish you the most have decided to treat you like an infinitely-replenishing piggy bank. That would explain why heroes like JigWatt and Errant White get all the spotlight while you languish in the shadows they cast.

But are you really even a hero? Are you anything? Or are you just... there?

A discordant note breaks the song of the city: a scream, frail and frantic.

Instinct kicks in before your weary body can tell you what a bad idea it is to move quickly right now. You're peeling the corner before you realize you're even moving, and then you see it: a mugger in an alley, pointing a dinky little knife at some rich white lady. She's clutching her thousand-dollar purse like it's a safety blanket, and the mugger sneers at her obvious weakness. Not that you can see much of his sneer through that truly-atrocious black ski mask he's wearing. You're poor, like really poor, and even you can afford a better costume.

As you take a step to intercept, the weight of the day hits you like a truck. You are tired, and you've spent the whole day giving 110%. You don't have much left to give.

This situation... is it yours to intervene in? Does it matter? The 'victim' looks like she could get mugged ten times a day and still come out on top. Let the cops deal with this one. Let it be someone else's problem. Why pretend to be something you aren't?

---

JigaWatt, AKA Lucan

You're used to your audience. You know them like a craftsman knows his tools. You may not get every prediction right, but each prediction is, on average, more accurate than the last. A thousand data points have honed your instincts to a fine point. You can accurately assess which demographics will leave what kind of comments before you're even done editing a video.

But this... this is a flood like you've never seen before.

Your engagement metrics are 40, 45, 50% higher than the next best performing video on your channel. Your followers swarm the comments section, sweeping away some comments and blossoming others into lengthy chains of discussion. Even the usual trolls and say-nothings are getting obliterated by the sheer volume of data being thrown at you.

Spoiler: Public Comments

Show

"She hates metas so much she won't even let them in her buildings. It's totally a rights violation but she's rich so she gets away with it."

"Lang just wants power. She'll throw money at metas and anti-metas alike, just so whichever ends up on top is loyal to her."

"I totally saw her kiss a superhero once, so, like, double standard? She's totally dating a meta."

"You see the latest Duelling Philosophies? That line about war profiteering wasn't nothing; Junebug Technologies sells to a lot of people they really, really shouldn't."

"I hear her bodyguard is a meta. Hypocrite much?"

"Lang thinks Sentinel is a rival, which is dumb. She probably has more money than the League, so what's she care about what they think? Why does she care what anyone thinks? If I had that much money I'd be spending all my days inside a mansion."

"That thing people say about her building Human Interest from the ground up? Totally true. I used to be one of them, and Lang was there from day one."

"I have a friend who works at Junebug and he says Lang employs a handful of metas in the higher-ups."

"If Lang is funding Human Interest, and Human Interest cares so much about being a 'pure' human, why has Lang never taken one of her own purity tests?"

"Lang just hates the League because they're not the Watchtower."

"Date me? Please? You're really cute. Also I saw Lang kick a puppy once so supes totes evil."

Sifting through the mountain of data is a momentous task, but as you dig through and sort out the most legitimate-sounding or community-supported assertions, you receive two private messages. One from an anonymous sender with no subject line, and one from... Faith Rivers? That Faith Rivers?

Spoiler: Anonymous: No Subject

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You should be careful about broadcasting such an interest. June Lang is a dangerous woman, and she has dangerous allies.

I like your videos, so I'd rather you didn't die. But if you really want to go after her, you need to understand that Human Interest is just one piece of a much larger puzzle. I have... connections inside Junebug Technologies. And the word inside is this: tech, serious tech, has started flowing not to overseas wars or the usual government and corporate contracts, but to a handful of quiet drop-off points inside Halcyon City.

Everyone likes to pin Human Interest on Lang, and I'm sure she had a hand to play in its rise, but there's always a hidden angle to this game. I don't think Human Interest is her endgame. I think the whole organization is a pawn. A sacrifice to draw out her true goal.

I've attached a file with everything my contact has on the drop-offs. I'd rather it go to the authorities - who don't make cute kitten videos and are thus utterly expendable - but their hands are tied when it comes to Lang. So... just try not to die, okay?

Spoiler: Faith Rivers: Hey

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I shouldn't be typing this. I really, really shouldn't be typing this.

Argh. Okay. So. Here's the deal: you saved my life like, a few weeks ago, and that was cool. I appreciate that. Really do.

I'm the, uh, Human Interest lady. Y'know, the one saying metahumans are dangerous and scary and probably not safe for your children and stuff like that? Sorry. Probably got carried away there, I'm not used to having people... listen to me, like the crowds do when I go all evangelical. Saying scary stuff makes people listen to me, and makes me feel powerful, and that's kind of a rush, and it makes me say things I maybe shouldn't. Sorry, again.

This isn't really an apology. Not because I think you don't deserve one, cause, you probably do. But I suck at apologies. Especially over text. Argh, I'm just stream-of-consciousness-ing. Here's the deal:

I'm a part of Human Interest because I get scared over the thought of designer babies engineered for a meta-gene, and the glorification of a caste of the ubermensch, and the removal of the vulnerability and weakness that makes us human. But I don't want to hurt anyone.

There's a sickness inside Human Interest. Something bad, growing. Calling for blood.

It scares me more than any of that metahuman stuff.

There's a rally on Saturday. The faction pushing for this violent reform, they call themselves Humanity Now, and they're the ones running it. If another attack happens at that rally... bad stuff is going to follow.

So... stop it, if you can? Flyer attached.

---

Fox, AKA Kye

Penny's expression falls a little at your coldness, but she quickly puts on her serious face and returns to her seat. "Yes, right. I know you aren't much for social calls. I did want to see you again, just 'cause, but I also have something important for you." Her bright tone turns dark. "A prophecy."

The afternoon atmosphere turns cold at the words. Prophecy. In all your time knowing Penny - and knowing Pythia, the Oracle of Delphi - prophecies have never meant anything good.

For once, Penny is the one that can't meet your gaze. "Two weeks ago, I met your teammate, Errant White. And something clicked. I've been having trouble getting visions about New Dawn, and I couldn't figure out why until I saw him. See, the Oracle has a way that it wants the world to go. And it thinks that... that your team should be the ones to investigate New Dawn, not the League. But I don't."

"I've spent the past two weeks meditating to summon visions, sifting through my dreams, sketching and note-taking and doing everything I can to draw out flashes of foresight and make sense of it all. I haven't had a prophecy like this since..." Penny hesitates, and you know what she's trying to say: since the first prophecy she ever gave, the one that started her fall into Camp Joy. She's never told you the contents of the prophecy, but it scarred her.

"I'm still figuring this prophecy out, but while I was doing all this, I got another vision. I-" She breaks off, shutting her eyes tight and clenching her fists. "Darn it, I hate this. I hate this, but I need you to know. I need you to understand why I don't want you to get involved."

Penelope looks up, and this time she catches your gaze and you can't look away. Her eyes, normally brown and pretty, turn withered and green-grey. "I see a knight in shining armor and a dragon clad in wicked scales. I see fire and poison and steel. I see you, Kye, glassy-eyed and limp, someone else's tears dripping onto your unresponsive face. I see your death, child of Albion.

Her eyes return to normal and she falls forward a little, catching herself before she can hit the table. She shakes her head and winces. "So, yeah. I saw you die. You were older in the vision, so it's not going to happen tomorrow, but you weren't much older. And the Oracle was clear: that whole scene only happens if you continue on your current path."

[Razade]

Fox
Conditions:
Potential: 3/5

"I care nothing for prophecy." Kye snorts, not an unsurprising response between the two of them. As documented, the Albians and their Black Knight offshoot gave a good deal of tuck to prophecy. Kye was not among that number. What did he care what was determined for him? If the gods so wished it they could snuff him out but he was a more righteous man for standing against them and if they were to balk then prophecy could be defeated. He cared this his people cared and he cared greatly that Penny cared however.

Which made it difficult, as he finally turned to look at his...friend? Whatever she was to him, she was in distress. He'd been wrong to take such a harsh stance, he knew it immediately. "Penny..." he offered before she dropped her bomb. Panic coursed through him in lightning quickness. Not because he'd just been told he was going to die. Even if he hadn't stared that looming specter in the face before it was every Son of Albion's dream to die in battle. One out in the open, for all to see, all the better for those who generally dwelt in the shadow of a far greater monolith. He wasn't eager to die, least of all before he drove a dagger into the heart of the man who had ordered his people's wholesale slaughter, but it was something he'd come to terms with. Death was all around the Black Knights even in the modern era. The fear, the legitimate and all consuming terror was at the last bit. Sure he had the golden eyes and sterling hair that some high bred Albians sported but most of his life he did all he could to deny it. Some dalliance that ought not be, the product of a tryst or other such tale. But not an Albian, not ever. It wasn't hard with any skintone that wasn't white as milk. Most didn't pry at all and he took extreme care to bundle up when near any known Albian neighborhood. If they knew...if they suspected...he'd be killed and that did scare him. To die at the hands of Albion, his people, unworthy to see his ancestors. That was a death he couldn't face.

All of that was a distraction from how much of a heel he felt though. He even moved past the moralizing, for a moment, to offer an apologetic look and even offer a hand. "Penny, I'm....sorry." he finally manages after several long and silent moments. "You've nothing to fear, I'm not going anywhere. I'll remain here with you even if just to make you worry. My path has intersected with yours for ages and will stretch for ages after. You won't be rid of me so easily. A Fox is cunning, more cunning even than Death."