R. Bluefish

Outside and above them, the now properly-garbed Starlight crouched on the roof of the Black Box, her phone casting pale light across her masked face as she stared down at it. Frustration was growing in her chest. Gretchen was in there with an entire five-man-band of hipster-punk-poet vampires - she felt pretty confident calling them vampires now - and here she was, cooling her heels and texting with her boss. Maybe if I had impressed them more, they would have invited me back too, and I could watch her back. She snorted. Fat chance of that. There were many things that weren't her strong suit, and making good first impressions was near the top. She wanted to blast something. She contented herself instead with texting a reply to Lynn.

GM Post A look of faint annoyance seemed to flicker across the girl's face, so quickly that it might have been Gretchen's imagination. Her smile was back in an instant, as though it had never left. "You got it," she said, and left the room. Two of the other band members sat down on the couch, on either side of Gretchen, while the final one perched on a stool. Between the three of them and Card, they effectively had Gretchen subtly hemmed in, and they all seemed to be leaning towards her ever so slightly. Card's sunglasses made his eyes look like featureless dark circles. His trendy chin-goatee stood out sharply black against his ghost-pale skin. "So...Gretch, is it?" he said. "Let's get down to it, shall we? What is it you're hoping to get out of this deal?" His lips were peeling back, bit by bit, as he spoke, baring too-white teeth. "Money? Fame? Adulation? Boys? Girls? More liquor than you could drink in a thousand lifetimes?" He spread his arms wide, in a "right here" sort of way. "You can have it." He grinned, wide and fierce. "You can have all of it."

Starlight's face had gone slightly white, and she spent several moments awkwardly patting herself as if to try to make sure that all of her was there. "Well, that answers my question, I suppose," she muttered, reaching up to reassure herself that her ponytail had made the voyage. I'd look awful with short hair. She snapped her fingers experimentally, and a bright white spark flashed obediently off her fingertips. "At least that still works." Having completed her self-status check, she looked up, and her eyes landed immediately upon Gretchen. "Holy $%#&, Gretch?" With more speed than would perhaps be expected from someone as typically antisocial as her, she was beside Gretchen, one hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"

Starlight narrowed her still-glowing eyes at the vampire. Her instincts told her to just stake the lot of them, but - well, superheroes had to practice discretion, didn't they? And if she attacked them just for being vampires, that would probably make her some kind of racist. "So you're a bunch of...what, vegetarian vampires? And you want us - well, her - to protect you from a street gang of xenophobic Van Helsing-wannabes?" she asked, not bothering to try to conceal her suspicion. "Can only speak for me, but - why should I believe that you don't hurt anyone? You are vampires, yeah? How do I know you're not just trying to get us to take out a band of righteous monster-hunters for you? And even assuming you're telling the truth," she jerked a thumb at Revenant, "why come to her for help?"

If you folks need more to go on before you can post, then let me know.

The two heroes' words certainly had the desired effect on the unfortunate Cole, who turned as pale as a sheet. "Understand! I understand!" he said. "I'll go straight from now on, I swear! I've had it with trying to get away with anything in this city!" With a whumph, Echo was standing behind him, enclosing him in a triangle of superheroes. "Good thinkin', Cole," she said cheerfully. "Making an enemy of a dead guy's a pretty bad idea. Ever see Night of the Living Dead? No? How about Diary of the Dead? Well, don't see that one, it's crap. You'd actually be better off with 28 Weeks Later. Not 28 Days Later, that's also crap. Point is," she raised a proclamatory finger, "don't try and do any more crimes, or you'll have to watch Diary of the Dead. Or something like that." She stepped back and peered over Phantasmo's shoulder at the address in his hand. "Huh. That must be the factory where ol' Cole's employers are waiting for him." Her mask shifted slightly, as though she were grinning underneath it. "Who wants to go ruin their day?"

Starlight tensed up at the sight of the pointed teeth and smoking skin. Vampires again. Perfect, like once wasn't enough. She was just about to cut the chatter and start frying when the woman spoke. Hesitating, Starlight, wavered for a moment, then relaxed her raised hand and floated down to the ground to stand beside Revenant. "Okay," she said. "This isn't going the way I was expecting it to." As a courtesy, she reigned in the light she was emanating, reducing it to a faint glow. Getting your skin crisped couldn't be fun - if she wasn't getting her Van Helsing on just yet, she figured she might as well play nice for the time being. "I'm Starlight. I thought this was just some kind of mugging. Now," she sighed, "I can see it's going to be one of those things. So, explain to us why we - that is to say, she - should help a bunch of vampires."

"All right, that's it," muttered Starlight from her vantage point atop a nearby water tower. Two people was nothing. Four could be coincidence. But six goth-looking creeps, following like damn wolves? Yeah, that meant it was tights time. She rose from her sitting position in one purposeful movement, snapping her mask into place as she did so, and concentrated briefly. There was a flash that for a fraction of a second lit up the entire street like the noonday sun, and then Starlight was floating in the air directly above the woman who was being followed. Motes of residual light danced around her, and her eyes were two glowing white orbs as she curled one hand into a fist threateningly. "Okay, people," she snapped to the pale figures, most of her face hidden by her black mask. "I'm cutting this thing short right here. Don't play try to innocent, and don't try to fight. Right now, everybody still has the option of just turning around and going home."

GM Post One of the tellers - the same one that had spoken to the Stranger before - slowly emerged from behind the counter, eyeing the now-genuinely-dead corpses warily. "What?" he asked distractedly. "A...necromancer? I don't think so. I mean, I don't know. What do they look like?" He looked up at the spiderweb of cracks that had formed across the surface of the glass under the zombie's assault and swallowed hard. "Also...thank you." Meanwhile, a handful of police officers entered the building with weapons drawn, apparently deeming that now that the two heroes had taken care of everything, it was safe to come protect and serve. Seeing the dead bodies, they holstered their guns with visible relief, just in time to start violently when Mr. Blue's spell repaired the room. The cracks in the glass faded away in an instant, and the walls now looked better than they had before the fight.

Dummy me, you're right. Losing track of my own combat here. Okay, whatever, let's just wrap this up. We're out of combat now.

GM Post The creature engaging the Stranger paused, looked at the ragged stump where its arm used to be, and let out a sound almost like a sigh. Having apparently reached its limit, it sagged, dropped to its knees, then face-planted. Spastic, twitching movements shuddered through its body, then it was still, the breath rattling from its now-inert lungs. The other zombie did not pass as peacefully - Mr. Blue's spell blasted a hole in its chest nearly the size of a soccer ball. It stared at him for a moment, angry disbelief appearing to register faintly on its rotting face, reached out towards him, and promptly fell in half. Its separate, ghastly halves were inert at once, the magic that animated them now severed. Seeing that the danger had apparently passed, the tellers began to poke their heads out from behind the counter, and from outside, police officers with readied weapons began to cautiously approach the building.

I always enjoy trying to find unorthodox or unexpected uses for existing powers, and I try to encourage the same! They do make a really fun team - we should remember do more stuff with them in future.

GM Post Alec Card and the band half-led, half-steered Gretchen into the band's area, which proved to be a fairly spacious rectangular room in the back of the building. Furnished with battered and obviously secondhand furniture, it was exactly what you might expect from a local indie band. A large, squashy leather sofa dominated one wall, with mismatching stools and chairs dotted around haphazardly. There were no visible coffins, but Gretchen noticed that the only window in the room had been blocked by heavy black curtains. Card pushed Gretchen towards the sofa, with a casual gentleness that implied unspoken strength. "Have a seat, baby." He threw himself into a worn armchair across from the sofa, sitting with languid obnoxiousness, one leg thrown over the armrest. "We'll talk business in a second." One of the band members - a heavily pierced and tattooed girl with pink-and-black dyed hair, who was no less gorgeous than Card himself - leaned over to whisper in Gretchen's ear. "Anything to drink?"

Sam was startled by the sudden vibration of her phone - hardly anyone ever contacted her, let alone when she was right in the middle of trying to deal with a gaggle of Twilight-overdosed hipsters. That seemed to have hypnotized her friend. Even as she dug her phone out of her jacket pocket, she was concocting a plan in her head. Follow them back under a cloak, wait for them to settle in, hit the fire alarm to get the civvies out, 'port Gretch somewhere safe where I can beat the mind control out of her...She glanced at her phone - an incoming text from Lynn. She read it, then felt slightly stupid. Oh. Well, that's a relief. She took a moment to consider her response, then hastily typed back... Turning on her heel, she made for the exit, pushing her way roughly through the crowd. Outside, in the alley behind the club, she began stripping off her civilian clothes, revealing the uniform black bodysuit beneath.

That's a pretty cool idea, actually! A clever use of all the resources at Gretch's disposal - I'm game.

Echo Late Night Out [ToV] Terror Lunch Starlight The Box of Delights Gang War - Even Vampires Get the Blues A Performance to Die For GM All Arise A Performance to Die For All GM posts to Starlight, please.

"Right," muttered Starlight, ducking her head to try to hide the heat in her cheeks. For Christ's sake, get a hold on yourself, you $#%&ing whiner. We're here to get Gretch. She followed Lynn up to the platform, hard-soled boots clicking on the steps, and lowered herself into a sitting position with one arm draped over her leg. "So how's this going to work?" she asked uneasily, wondering now if magic would ever stop unnerving her. "We need to do anything, or just sit here while you all go kumbaya, and we wake up in Wonderland?"

"C-Cole," stammered the thug in response to Phantasmo's question. "Cole Harkness. I'm not a bad guy, I swear! This was just a job!" "Oh, just a job!" mimicked Echo, vanishing again and reappearing standing upside-down on the ceiling of the warehouse for no apparent reason, where she continued to deliver her harangue unabated. "I swear we must caught the whiniest crook in the city. You're little just a job, Cole, nearly got me and my noble compatriots shot! With bullets! Bullets!" She cocked her head to the side suddenly, as if considering. "Well, not really. I mean, obviously none of you could so much as hit the broad side of a zip code. But I mean, it's the thought that counts." "Look," said Cole, fishing frantically in his pocket. "I've got the address!" He yanked out a slip of paper with an address scrawled on it and held it out to Phantasmo with a shaking hand. "I'm being helpful, see? I'm being cooperative!"

Right, right, sorry about that Heri! I let that one slide a bit. IC post up!

Card's eyes seemed to widen just slightly behind his douche-shades, his expression of surprise surpassed by the look of incredulity Sam was giving her. "Well now," he breathed. "I'm sure we can...discuss it." He reached out and laid one possessive, languorous hand on Gretchen's shoulder. "Come around back with us? We can work out the details, talk about a signing bonus, get you all...sorted out." He was already half-turning, steering her with his body, the rest of the band moving with him. "Oh," he said, stopping suddenly as if he'd almost forgotten. "Your...friend will have to wait out here." He glanced at Sam over his shoulder, not bothering to look her in the eye, only sliding his gaze over her with undisguised distaste. "You're going to be a rock star, little bird," he crooned to Gretchen. "You'll have to be careful of the company you keep from now on. People like that," he jerked a thumb at Sam, "they're no good. No sense of...adventure. They just drag you down." Breaking her silence, Sam snapped her fingers, the sound as sharp as a gunshot. "Hey. I'm standing right here, &%#@stain. I can hear you." She looked at Gretch, concern showing visibly through her usually indifferent features. "Gretch? You...okay? What do you want me to do?" What every cell of her body was telling her to do was power up and turn Card into a pile of trendy ashes, but Gretch seemed to be working some kind of angle here. Subtlety wasn't Sam's specialty, and experience had taught her when it was time to follow someone else's lead.

Echo eyed the fly-man warily, still unconvinced that they shouldn't keep punching him. "Okay," she said, not shifting entirely out of her combat stance. "Talking. Let's try that." She followed his gaze to the trash can, and blinked. Well, what was I expecting a giant fly man to be after? "You want the garbage? You can have the garbage." She looked at the tall, handsome man inquiringly. "That your garbage? He can have it, right? I don't want it. I just wanted tacos." One of the blonde girl's fireballs came uncomfortably close to singing the ends of Echo's false white hair, and she started. "Hey, watch where you're - oh, hey there!" With a muffled thud of displaced air, she was standing in front of Sparkler, pumping her hand vigorously. "Remember me? We fought that clown guy at the gym that one time and I bled all over your broomstick. Everything's healing up nicely, the doctor says I should regain the full use of my spine within a year."

...Er, all right. Both of you post IC and we'll wrap this fight up.

Most of the parts could serve a variety of purposes, but you notice a select few that seem very specific in design: there are some that appear to be heavy-duty hydraulics, like you might find in heavy construction equipment, and others that seem to be designed to contain and channel extremely high amounts of electricity.

That is a hit, actually - Revenant 2's Toughness save: 1d20+8 18. Bruised and Dazed. (Also, messed up the labels on the Orokos roll - just ignore what they say and take the die result). Revenant 1's Toughness save: 1d20+8-2 10 He's Stunned. These guys are getting used to never getting a chance to act. Revenant 1's second Toughness save: 1d20+8-2 15 Bruised. Okay, let's have some IC posts. Hopefully these guys are on their last legs.

Sure, go ahead and roll.