R. Bluefish

The clock ticked several times as Echo stood there, silent and still, her mind racing rapidly. Now that the moment of impulsiveness had passed, reason was returning and her memory was starting to work. Red. Shapeshifting. Some kind of energy projection. She racked her brains, mentally poring down a mental list. The only one she could think of who fit all those criteria was... Uh-oh. Well, that's weird. She wrestled her face into a broad smile behind her mask. "Hello...Jack!" Don't piss him off, don't piss him off. "I've always wanted to meet you, Jack. Because you are Jack." Could I take him? "I, uh, wasn't expecting to run into you here, Jack." I could totally take him. "What brings you here? You're after Bench too?" Was that Yiddish? Why the hell is he speaking Yiddish? She eyed him, wary of any sudden movement on his part that might end in her becoming a light shower of reddish moisture. "You...uh...don't look so good. You...doing okay there? You..." she gestured vaguely, "got something on your face. Also," she added, unable to resist, "you're upside down."

Gather Information check: 1d20+10 19

"Must be some pretty serious work, looking after all those powered kids," Starlight said. "Most people can hardly deal with normal ones. How do the staff cope if there's an...incident? Do the staff have powers too?" She was starting to realize that there was a lot more to the hero community than she had first suspected. "Also," she added after a moment's thought, "where do they get the resources to keep an operation like that going? Are they government-funded, do they run off donations from rich heroes, what? And are they based solely in Freedom City, or do they have branches in other states?"

Echo felt momentarily elated at the appearance of the swashbuckling figure - Jack of all Blades would almost certainly have ideas on how to proceed, and she'd always wanted to meet him anyway - until she caught sight of his finger. And his skin. She considered herself fairly well-informed when it came to the hero community, and she'd never heard of him being...red. Her excitement evaporating in an instant, she withdrew further into the shadows, apprehensive. Heroes underwent cosmetic changes now and then, it was true, but this was a doozy. Her mind raced as she considered the possibilities. Either this really was Jack of all Blades, which meant his appearance had been seriously altered without anyone hearing about it, or it was some kind of imposter. And apparently not a very good imposter, since he was bright red. Why would somebody make themselves look like a superhero (albeit one fresh from an accident at the paint factory) just to break into a crooked politician's headquarters? It didn't make sense. Were they trying to frame Jack for something? Was this even about him, or was it really about Bench? Did he work for Bench, or against him? Her instincts told her to get out of there. Her curiosity told her to stay and observe. The two of them vied for dominance, allowing impulse to sidle in and assume control while neither of them were looking. Whumph. She appeared directly in front of the strange figure, still on the ceiling. "I think they're closed," she said. Her tone was cheerful, but she could feel her muscles were tense and ready. "We should probably come back in the morning, huh? Although they're going to be pretty pissed about what you did to their door."

Starlight eyed the pair warily as she approached. Zombie magician and a knight? Colorful bunch. "Just for f---'s sake, don't put it on," she said. "Not until we know more about it, at least. Maybe this guy was crazy to begin with, but if that thing did affect his mind somehow, I really don't feel like having to fight you now." She hated magic. She walked over to the napping skinhead and peered down at him. "Maybe Baldy here can shed a little light on the subject. Should we wake him up and ask a few questions, or should we just split? Personally, I wouldn't mind knowing what that thing is and where he got it. Anybody know if he stole that from the museum, or did he already have it when he went in?"

Notice check: 1d20+12 29 Stealth check: 1d20+15 34

Psychic parasite? That couldn't be good. This sounded like a job for the Claremont seniors, one of the more experienced telepaths, or...anybody but him, really. He'd arrived at Claremont with a lot of big ideas about being a hero, and he'd met more or less an entire super-team at the gates, but once he'd settled in he really hadn't done anything but study and keep to himself while they went off on their assorted escapades. It had been so refreshing to just live a semi-normal life for once, he'd nearly forgotten about the school's "extracurriculars." He hadn't even used his powers in months, not for real. Now he was trapped in someone else's brain, and he had to fight some kind of mind-tapeworm? Well, he wasn't going to get anything done by standing here and moaning about it. He cracked his knuckles with what he hoped was an air of masculine purpose. "All right, then. Parasite. Let's kill it, or exorcise it or whatever." He sneaked a sideways glance at Errant, standing there implacably. At least he seems to know what he's doing. Probably happens to him all the time. "You wanna do this?"

Crap! Echo hurriedly thrust the day planner back where she had found it and shot her gaze around the room, trying to make a decision. Obviously whoever was on the other side of that door wanted in - very badly - and she was guessing that whatever it was they were using to enter, it wasn't normal. So another meta was sniffing around. The question was, who and why? Could it be a goon Bench hired to watch over the place? Or had another hero picked up on what he was doing and wanted the same thing as her? The smart thing to do was abort. She had a lead - tenuous though it may be - and it was best to avoid the possibility of a confrontation. This was a case that demanded a low profile, something that would be hard to maintain if she got into a fight with some guy who had...acetylene cutters for hands or something. But on the other hand, if whoever it was worked for Bench, why would they be breaking in? And if it was another mask, then she just might have found herself an ally. Making up her mind, she looked up at the ceiling, then jumped. The world swung dizzyingly as her personal gravity field shifted. She spun in midair, inverting herself, and her feet hit the ceiling with a soft thud. She took a moment to reorient herself in he now-upside-down office, then quietly moved to position herself so that she would be behind and above whoever entered the room. If it was a hero, there was at least a decent chance she would recognize them, and all would be well. If it was someone she didn't like the look of, no matter - she'd be out of there and across the city before they could say "sesquipedalian."

Sam's expression flickered slightly. It hadn't even occurred to her that what she was about to do was illegal, and she couldn't help feeling slightly moved that the other two cared enough to give her the chance to avoid participating. For a moment, she was tempted - the path to the "Life" was a slippery slope, and it had a way of sneaking up on you in the most benign of disguises. But, it was for a good cause. Or rather, it was to get a bad guy behind bars (or at least in front of fists), which was pretty much a superhero's entire job description. And...she couldn't very well just opt out and let the others go off and face some crazy crossbow-wielding Belgian guy alone. They were certainly capable enough without her, granted, but what if something happened to them that she could have helped prevent? Like she needed any more crap on her conscience. She made up her mind. "You don't need to worry about me," she said. "I'm with you. It's like you said, we're doing this to get the Duke. And it's not like we're razing an orphanage. We're just stealing a mirror, right? Nothing really bad." Her tone turned wry. "If this sets off a chain reaction that ends with me knocking over gas stations and breaking into pharmacies, you have my permission to kick my ass and haul me to Blackstone." She paused for a moment, then took an intent interest in her hands as she muttered, "Also...thanks. For thinking about me."

Sam twitched her shoulders. "Works for me. I'm not much good at scamming people, but..." In an eyeblink, she vanished, her voice continuing to come from the spot where she was sitting. "I can keep out of sight when I need to." She reappeared. "So unless...they," she waved a hand at the assorted Merges, "have any objections, that plan's fine by me." Because careful planning is absolutely my strong suit. She cleared her throat. "So, any idea what we might be up against, if it comes to that? Just a bunch of identical Eurotrash dudes, or does he have some extra goons on his payroll? Also, where's the deal going down? We going to Belgium?"

"You sure did," said Starlight, looking around. "Look at you now. Nice house, kids, barbeques, your own TV show, upstanding members of the hero community." Not bad for a couple who used to be junkie crooks, she thought to herself, but she decided it might sound a little tasteless out loud. Most of what she said seemed to end up sounding a little tasteless out loud, so she was pleased with herself that she caught it ahead of time for once. "And," she said, in answer to Paige's question, "I usually need to know where I'm going if I want to beam myself there. Although the upshot is, I haven't yet found an upper limit on how far I can jump. I think I actually go at the speed of light for a fraction of a second, or something like that. So, yeah," her lips curved slightly, "that would probably be pretty useful in softball. Maybe I'll stop by." She took another bite and chewed meditatively for a long moment, before swallowing and speaking again. "So...Nicholson is also for metahuman kids, then? What kind of methods do they have of finding new students? Do they have some kind of power-detecting gizmo that they can just use to tell if a kid has powers, or do they just keep an eye on the news?" And can they tell whether or not a kid has powers if they haven't shown up yet?

Thanh nodded slowly. "You could say that, yeah." He addressed her, but behind his mirrored sunglasses, his gaze roved uneasily around their surroundings, watching for any signs of danger. This would be the perfect way to distract them while something sneaked up behind them and took them by surprise. Or to get them to lower their guard so she could devour their souls. It was the way he and his friends had always worked before - one would approach the mark and get their attention while another - usually him - would stealthily obtain their wallet. "Let's start with the obvious, I guess," he said. "Who are you, and where are we? More importantly, how do we get home?" And are you trapped here with us, or are you the one trapping us here?

Echo frowned. Even though she had no idea how to actually crack a computer, she had been hoping Bench's computer would be here - it seemed like the most obvious place to find incriminating data or correspondence. Well, whether there was anything usable on it or not, he obviously wasn't dumb enough to leave it here, so she was going to have to look elsewhere for what she needed. She glanced around at the room. It would take a while to thoroughly search it, and that was assuming there even was anything here, which there likely wasn't. Bench didn't seem like the type to leave evidence lying around his own office. But, maybe his flunkies weren't so careful. Most of them probably wouldn't be privy to his fraud, but all it took was one who had a moment of carelessness. Just one mistake would give her something to work with, something to build on. That meant searching the entire building. Which would take even longer. Or, rather, it would if she let it. But she didn't have time for time right now. She had things to do. The clock on the wall stopped in mid-second, the tick drawn out into a constant, low sound that filled the silence. It was so easy, really. Anybody could do it if they really tried. It was the same as when you were in the waiting room at the dentist, and the wait seemed to take hours, no matter how long you were actually there. Or how a rollercoaster ride seemed to be over the moment you got on. Most people thought that was just because your perception of time changed, which was of course ridiculous. Your perception of the thing didn't change the thing. So, once you knew the trick of it, you could do it whenever you wanted. For example, when you needed to toss an entire building but didn't have several hours to spare, it was a real lifesaver. She rubbed her hands together, cracked her knuckles, and, without further ado, set to work. She started by flipping through every book on his bookshelf. Cliched, perhaps, but some people really did favor the old "rock-hammer-in-the-hollowed-out-Bible" approach. Once she was finished with that, she scanned every inch of the room, even checking above the ceiling tiles. She left any locked drawers she found alone, at least for the time being. While she was certainly strong enough to force them open, she decided it wasn't a good idea to leave any mark of her presence unless she had to. If they returned and found signs of intrusion, they would check the security cameras, and then they would know a mask was sniffing around. Bench would be sure to do an instant duck-and-cover and would be extra careful to cover his tracks, which would be sure to make her job a lot harder. Then it was time for the rest of the building. She searched high and low for anything that seemed in any way suspicious, out of place, or, best of all, anything that seemed like someone had taken steps to conceal it. A carelessly forgotten flash drive, a discarded memo, a nervous phone message. Hell, a number scratched on the inside of a men's room stall. She went through any unlocked file cabinets she found, as well as drawers, wastepaper baskets, and, for reasons she didn't quite understand, potted plants.

I'd be interested in getting Vox involved in this. His emotion-affecting powers could be useful for calming civvies or animals, and he also has some low-level TK for physical dangers.

All right, I'm going to thoroughly search as much of the building as I can. I'll take 20 on the check, for a total of 22. With Echo's Quickness, it shouldn't take long at all.

The first idea certainly sounds fun to me, but you may be right that it's a little soon in her career. I suppose it wouldn't be crazy, sort of an early run-in to cement Lisa as her archnemesis (although there's also the question that if Lisa knows where she is, why she doesn't just come kill her herself). Maybe simplicity would be best, in which case just stopping a shipment of something unpleasant would work as well. And yeah, some kind of intramural competition sounds like a lot of fun! It would showcase their different approaches, and I suspect Vox might have a little bit of a competitive streak deep down. It also sounds like something that might help him start to break out of his shell a bit.

Echo Freedom's Finest #3: Corrupt To No Good Starlight American Vikings Family Food Two Duplicators and Grim Too! Vox Graduation Proclamation: Woman in Red

Echo sat on the rooftop overlooking Bench's campaign headquarters, legs draped over the edge of the building, chin propped up on one fist, wondering what the hell she was doing. Punching things was fine. She could do that. Quite well, she liked to think. When she punched things, they had a tendency to damn well stay punched. But she wasn't sure that just hauling off to jack Bench in the face was going to solve this problem, no matter how therapeutic it might be. A subtler touch was required here. Proving voter fraud? How was she even going to do that? That sort of thing was usually the bailiwick of a large team of very, very patient people who knew exactly what they were doing. She was a journalism student. Oh, she was patient enough, and she got good grades and all, but writing a paper was one thing. Exposing a corrupt candidate for city councilman was quite another kettle of chips, or however that saying went. Maybe he was the sportsmanlike type, and he had a folder on his desk labeled "Voter Fraud Details, Bwa Ha Ha." Well, at any rate, she doubted she was going to get anywhere by marching in there and demanding to see proof of their foul deeds. She waited there, idly tapping away at a smartphone game and occasionally glancing down at the building, until she at last saw the lights go out and the last person leave, locking up behind them. Right! Justified felony time! She sprang up from her sitting position, stowing her phone in one of the pouches on her belt, coiled her legs beneath her, and sprang straight up. Gravity tugged sullenly at her. She firmly ignored it. Her leap took her sailing in an arc thirty feet in the air, clear across the street, until she reached the apex of her jump. For the briefest moment, she hung motionless, before grudgingly allowing gravity to take hold of her once more and suck her down to earth. She landed in a crouch on the roof of Bench's headquarters, the impact barely taking the wind out of her instead of breaking her legs. With a cursory glance around to make sure no inconvenient witnesses were about, she jumped again, backflipping off the rooftop and landing gracefully on the sidewalk below. It hadn't all been entirely necessary, of course, but she never passed up a chance to fly through the air with the greatest of ease. She cupped her hands around her eyes and peered into the shadowed interior of the building. Looks like no one's home. Perfect. The door certainly wouldn't prove much of an impediment to her, but she would prefer not to leave too many traces of her presence behind. Politely and without speaking, she made it known to the universe in general that she would very much appreciate being about five feet thataway. Whumph. There was no real sensation, other than a slight chill and whoosh of wind as her sudden relocation caused the air around her to rush away. One moment she was outside, the next she was inside, among the cubicles, potted desk plants, and mild undercurrent of scumbaggery. Echo pushed her fake white hair out of her eyes with her hand, took in her new surroundings, then made a beeline for the back offices. You never knew. Some guys like this, they actually thought they were untouchable. Which made them careless. Maybe there really would be a helpful little folder in there somewhere, left lying around. It certainly couldn't hurt to check.

Sam snorted at the other woman's worried expression. "Don't worry. Yeah, I like making my eyes glow, but that's not all I do." She sat forward in her chair and held out a hand, fingers half curled. With a small effort of will, a bright flare of light ignited a few inches above her upturned palm, casting wild shadows around the room as the energy flickered and undulated. "I'm Starlight. Light does what I want it to. I can handle myself just fine in a fight, so you don't need to worry about that. I can also teleport quite a ways, and I could probably take one of you along at a time, if we need to get somewhere fast. And," she added as an afterthought, "if it matters, I don't need to eat, sleep, breathe, or any of that stuff. Seriously, I've been to the moon." Should set up a lawn chair there, actually. She sat back and closed her fist, snuffing out the light. "So that's what I do. I would have told you before, but there wasn't a space for that on the application."

"Ouch - hey, watch it - coming through - make a hole there," It took a few moments for Thanh to remember that talking to these people probably wouldn't help much, seeing as how they weren't really people. Probably not, at least. One habit he found impossible to shake was keeping one hand on his pocket as he shouldered his way through the throng. Crowds like these were where pickpockets thrived. Or, to put it another way, crowds like these were where he used to thrive, and he had no intention of letting himself walk off with his wallet, whether it was imaginary or not. "So, whaddaya think?" he grunted. "This must mean something, right? Isn't that usually how it works? Does the crowd, like, represent all of the obstacles we have to overcome to...become true heroes? Or pass algebra, or something?" He thought for a moment. "And what's the woman in red supposed to represent?"

A couple of ideas that occur to me... Foreshadow and Echo sound like they might make for a fun teamup; both are agile, wisecracking crimefighters who spend a lot of time in Southside (she attends classes there). There's the potential for a little friendly rivalry there, especially when it comes to their respective acrobatic prowess. Glamazon and Vox could also be interesting. Both are Claremont students, and Glam's boisterousness could be played off in direct contrast to Vox's shy and withdrawn nature, as well as Glam's fondness for good ol' fisticuffs versus Vox's preference for the subtler, more careful approach. On top of that, their vastly different backgrounds (Atlantean princess and street kid) could also be a source of drama (or humor).

When Ellie Stein decides to write an article for her journalism class about a local up-and-coming politician, her initially casual investigations uncover evidence that he is in fact deeply corrupt, and has ties to organized crime. Incensed, she enters her alternate persona of Echo, determined to find a way to expose him to the public for what he is. This leads her to cross paths with Jack of all Blades, who is attempting the exact same thing! They decide to work together, hoping that by cooperating, they can make his crimes known and force him to face justice.

Starlight Broken Needles (I Can’t Go Home Again) He was finally asleep. His small chest rose and fell peacefully beneath his Freedom League Adventures pajamas, and his little hands still clutched his stuffed puppy close against the side of his pale, smooth face. Slowly, determined not to wake him, Becky extricated herself from the covers and got carefully to her feet. He had had another nightmare. She hadn’t needed to ask what it was about. For a while she was afraid he would never get back to sleep, but a glass of milk and a few stories had finally sent him off. She brushed back a lock of hair from her nephew’s face, patted him gently on the shoulder, and padded from the room in her bare feet, closing the door softly behind her. Now, of course, she was wide awake. Perfect. She had a test tomorrow, and she needed to be rested for it. She could hear Omid snoring contentedly all the way from their bedroom. Lucky bastard. She went to the kitchen and switched on the light. Milk had worked for Arthur, maybe it would work for her. If she failed this test because she hadn’t gotten enough sleep, someone was going to pay. And it’ll probably be me. Memories came to her unbidden. When she had been small, she had had nightmares too. Quite a lot of them. And every time, no matter how exhausted she herself had been, Sam had held her and comforted her until she drifted off again. Yeah, well. That had all changed, hadn’t it? She hadn’t seen her in years, and she was still cleaning up after her. She knew full well what Arthur’s nightmares were about. Across town, Sam lay in darkness. The quilt was bunched up around her. It didn’t make any sense, but every time she lay on the couch, she hoped that maybe this time she would be able to sleep. And every time, she wound up doing this – nothing, just laying there and waiting for the sun to rise. She had gotten good at waiting. A sudden restlessness took her. She kicked free of the blankets and got to her feet. What was the point, really? It was a waste of time. Funny – in her old life, if she hadn’t been able to score, she would sleep practically all day and night. At the time, anything was better than facing reality. Maybe this was her punishment. No more drugs, and no more sleep too. She took a step and tripped over one of her boots. She caught herself against the wall and winced, glancing towards the room where Asli was sleeping. She would hate to wake her at this time of night. Asli’s rest seemed to continue undisturbed, so Sam sat herself on the edge of the couch and pulled on her boots. If she couldn’t sleep, she would go out. Maybe she would find something to occupy her out in the city. She shrugged into her jacket, pulled her hair back into her usual ponytail, and vanished in a flash of light. She stood on the roof, looking out at the city. She felt almost like she was sneaking out to go to a party, like she used to do in high school. Whenever she managed to do it without waking Becky, at least. Which wasn’t often. Becky had always been a light sleeper. A dull ache shot through her gut. She wondered what Becky was doing right now. Sound asleep in bed, no doubt, just as she should be. Then a strange thing happened. Music began to play, seeming to come from the thin air. A gentle, rhythmic, song. She had barely enough time to think Oh, s—t, before she opened her mouth. "Old burned photographs and broken needles A sister left behind" Becky pulled open the refrigerator and took out a jug of milk, barely noticing that she had begun to sing. "Far from the homes of the sun-kissed families Is where my sister lies" Sam shot straight up into the air, a glowing contrail of energy streaming behind her. The wind rushed past her ears as the rose into the starry sky. "Look for me among the skies and the stars See the light that set me free" Becky slammed shut the fridge with rather more force than was necessary as she snapped her response. "No, you live in the trash with the thieves and the drunkards And maybe that’s just where you should be" There was a flash, and Sam stood now on the roof of her old apartment building. Where she had overdosed, where everything had changed. "And when the stars’ light Shines down on all of my mistakes I cannot make this right And I can’t go home again I can’t go home again I can’t go home again I can’t go home again Again" Becky poured some milk into a glass as she sang. "When we were but girls how the walls of the life we shared They seemed to draw in near" The corners of Sam’s mouth quirked, although there was nothing funny about it. "Held to each other when our mother was angry And together, we had no fear" Flash. Sam stood on the moon. Her feet kicked up drifting clouds of grey dust as she spread her arms wide, as if to embrace the spectacle of the Earth hanging in the void before her. "But oh, have you seen all the gods and the heroes All the kings and the knights of the sky" Becky threw herself into a chair, her knuckles white as she gripped her glass. "No, I remained here, still trapped on the ground Where you left me to raise your child" Flash. The roof of the Rath & Stromberg building. The glowing city sprawled and twisted about in all directions around her. Sam hopped up to the very edge of the roof. "And when the stars’ light Shines down on all of my mistakes I cannot make this right And I can’t go home again I can’t go home again I can’t go home again I can’t go home again" Flash. For a moment, she wasn’t sure where she had gone. Then she knew. She recognized the modest apartment before her, with the grey walls and the crayon-drawn greeting taped to the door. She could see a shadow moving in the kitchen, and her heart seemed to contract as she nearly shouted her words. "Lies and drugs and old fights too They keep me from you Pain and shame for the words I threw All keep me from you" Becky paused. She thought she had seen a flash of light from the street, and she thought she heard a voice. She rose and went to the window, and as she approached it there was another flash. She drew aside the curtain and peered out into the night, but the street was deserted. Sam watched the house from far above, standing in the air with her hands tightly gripping her elbows, singing quietly now. "But oh, my sister, though our lives may have parted Though you may never forgive my sin Look for me in the night and the shadow If someday you want to see me again" A flash, and she was gone. As the music faded, Becky looked around, then shook her head groggily. What the hell just…right, the song-wave thing. I guess that’s what it’s like. She tried to figure out the significance of what she had been singing. It was about Sam, she knew that much, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had only been singing half the song. Whatever. She was too tired to decipher it right now. She drained her glass, placed it in the sink, and switched off the light. She returned to her and Omid’s bedroom, finding her way there easily despite the pitch blackness. He had seized the opportunity her absence offered to roll over spread-eagled onto his stomach and take up the entire bed, and it took a minute of pulling, prodding, and halfhearted threats to get him to roll back onto his side and let her in. She lay down beside him and pulled the blankets over her, still thinking about the strange song. I’m “trapped on the ground?” So where the hell is she, piloting a 747? She shuddered at the thought. It didn’t take long for sleep to chase all thoughts of Sam from her mind. The last thing she thought before sinking into unconsciousness was that the voice she’d heard outside had sure sounded like a woman singing. (Music Source: Yankee Bayonet [I Will Be Home Then], by The Decemberists, from the album The Crane Wife, 2006)

Somewhere at the back of her mind, Sam wondered at what point in her life a room full of identical Katy Perry-looking superheroines stopped surprising her. "Hey, Ms. Epstein," she said, taking a seat. "Gretchen brought be up to speed. Sort of. We're going to go kick the s--t out of some rich megalomaniacal self-cloning Belgian jerkoff with a crossbow, right?" She looked at the various eccentrically-dressed women, tried to figure out which one to address, and arbitrarily settled on the sitting one. "And I'm guessing you're Merge Trois." Behold my deductive skills. "I'm Starlight. Sam. It sounds like you all might need a little extra firepower?"

"Used to play a little softball in school. Was never very good at it, though," Starlight said. She snorted. "The sun was always getting in my eyes, which I suppose isn't a problem any more. Also," she waved a finger at Holly, "Princess Powerful is a kicka - er - kickbutt name, and never let anyone tell you different. Although you might want to make sure it isn't taken by some other superpowered little girl." "And come on," she said to Richard, "I think we both know I don't have much chance of outracing anyone related to you." She took another swig of concoction. "Unless I'm allowed to teleport, in which case I like my chances."