R. Bluefish
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Starlight shrugged. "Pretty much what it says on the can. Tin. Whatever." She considered her burger cautiously, then took a massive bite. It took her several seconds to regain her composure after that, at which point she began adding an adventurous amount of hot sauce. "I control light," she continued. "That's it. Not a whole lot else to it, really. I light up dark places, shoot lasers, and if I'm feeling clever, I shoot really big lasers." She wadded more burger into her mouth, chewed contemplatively, then added just a dab more sauce. "If I can do more than that, I haven't figured out how yet." She waved the sandwich. "And, uh, you may have noticed I've been reacting a little strongly to this stuff. That's because I haven't eaten anything in...quite a while now. I don't get hungry anymore, so for a long time I just didn't see the point." Another chunk of burger disappeared into her jaws. "Your parents have really opened my eyes."
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Sam looked up from her task, opened her mouth in puzzlement, then decided that, given their line of work, it probably didn't make much more sense in-context and closed it again. "Sure, what the hell," she said, shrugging and shutting off the water. "Just about finished here anyway." And besides, she was starting to go stir crazy from doing nothing. She was sure it was very good to be gainfully employed and have something to do with her day...but at the same time, who liked doing dishes? She hung up the rag, dried her hands, and followed Gretchen. As they walked, she decided she probably was going to need a few more details. "So..." she searched for the most pertinent question. "What, where, and how hard?"
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Sam nodded and gestured hastily, her mouth being full of muffin at the moment (Lance was quickly rising on her list of favorite people). She swallowed, then looked around at the smiling faces of her new coworkers, wondering how the hell she was going to remember all their names. She also quietly hoped that the nickname "Sam I Am" wouldn't stick. Although it was, admittedly, a lot better than any of her nicknames in junior high had been. She got the feeling that something was expected of her. "Look forward to working with you all and...thanks for having me." It wasn't exactly what you would call a stirring speech, but words had never been her strong suit.
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The moment the...concoction (she immediately decided there was no other word for it) touched her tongue, it was like the ginger ale all over again, only magnified about a hundred times. Taste buds she didn't even know she had suddenly kicked into high gear. She was, at least, prepared for the carbonation this time, and managed to keep her composure relatively well. She coughed, rubbed her eyes, took another large gulp, and found herself now wondering if her powers protected her from tooth decay. There was really only one way to find out, and she didn't particularly feel like waiting for a year to see if her teeth turned into sponges, so she resigned herself to brushing again. Not having to brush was the one nice thing about not eating, she thought ruefully. She put down the drink reluctantly to help in the setting of the table. "First come, first served," she said to Richard, glancing at the hot sauce with a gleam in her eye. She admitted inwardly that that was probably not the smartest thing to say to the fastest man alive.
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Sam nodded. "Assuming anyone can make out my chicken scratching, yeah, no problems." She paused. She couldn't quite shake the feeling of apprehension, like the other shoe was about to drop. Good pay (by her standards, at least), quiet atmosphere, and a boss she didn't need to hide her identity from? This job seemed a little too good to be true. But Richard had been the one to send her here, and he didn't seem like a bulls----er. And neither did the staff at this place, for that matter. She looked around at the store, at the shelves packed with books, and a peculiar sense of belonging came over her. She had never been much of a reader. The closest she had ever come to appreciating literature was skimming the Cliff's Notes of To Kill a Mockingbird to try (unsuccessfully) to avoid failing English. All the same, it wasn't as if she didn't have enough free time on her hands these days ever since she stopped sleeping. She made a mental note to ask about employee discounts...
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Thanh was mildly impressed by how unperturbed Errant seemed, despite their situation. "Vox," he said, determined that if the other boy wasn't scared, then neither was he. "You don't happen to have any idea where we are...? No, I don't suppose you would...are we still in Freedom City? I can't tell. If we are-" he waved to the crowds, "-there's something rotten in the state of Jersey. I don't know about you, but this all looks...wrong to me. I mean, even besides the lack of color, there's..." He glanced at Errant. Okay, he's obviously a cape. Maybe even another student. "I'm a telepath, but I'm not picking up anything here. At all. I should be getting something from all these people, but it's like they're all just completely empty in their heads." If they didn't have minds, did that mean he was basically powerless here, he wondered? Did his TK still work? Or was he just going to have to go get a good sturdy baseball bat to defend himself with? A thought struck him. "Hey, wait. Did you see that in the crowd a second ago? I thought I saw somebody wearing red. Like, actual red, not grey. Maybe we're not the only ones stuck here. Think if there's others, maybe somebody else will know what's going on?"
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Sam sat alone in the office for a long, silent moment. Her chair creaked as she leaned over to pull the paperwork towards her. Then the only sound was the scratching of pen on paper, and the occasional muffled chatter from outside. Her hands moved robotically, filling in each field with dull, efficient repetitiveness, while she tried her best to keep her mind empty. Sometimes it was best not to think about what you were doing, or what you had done. Then she was finished. She placed the papers down on Lynn's desk, and pushed through the door out into the store. A strange restlessness was coming over her. She wanted to fly, fight, anything to distract her. Focus, you idiot, she told herself irritably. Right now, she needed to finish up here. Running off the to the moon right now probably wouldn't help any first impressions.
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Thanh stood stock still. It took him several long seconds to process that something was very wrong. No colors, for one. There were usually colors. And there was usually sound too, from what he remembered. But the very first thing he noticed, the thing that made the hair rise on the back of his neck, was the other kind of silence. The mental silence. No stray feelings or glimpses of emotion. He hardly noticed them when they were there, but now that they were gone, it was like being deaf. He felt his breath becoming rapid. What. The. Hell. Is going on. He stared around at the murky, colorless city. Was this FC? It all looked so different in monochrome. He needed to get back to Claremont, he was going to get in trouble- He jumped nearly a foot in the air when he saw the other guy standing next to him. He was in color, at least compared to their surroundings. Thanh had been so busy listening for minds in the crowd he hadn't noticed the one right beside him. Thanh stared at him, taking an involuntary step backwards. "Who are you?"
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For a tiny, almost imperceptible moment, Starlight's face went curiously blank, then, just as quickly, her expression returned to normal. "Horrifying concoction, huh?" she said. "You had me at horrifying." She gestured commandingly. "Hey Richard, horrify me." Little trial-by-fire for my newly rediscovered taste buds, maybe. Should try some hot sauce later. She wondered vaguely if her powers would protect her from that. She looked down at the little girl and held out her hand. "And I don't think I've introduced myself properly, Holly. Your parents keep bugging you and making you do stuff. I'm Sam." The name just slipped out. She immediately clamped her mouth shut before remembering where she was and who she was talking to, and forcing herself to lighten the f--- up. Screw it, doesn't matter. I doubt that anybody here is going to put it on the Internet.
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Echo Starlight American Vikings Bookstore Now Hiring Family Food Two Duplicators and a Grim Too! Vignette: This Is Your Song Vox Graduation Proclamation: Woman in Red
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Sam watched the whole display, starting slightly when Lynn conjured the dress. Nice trick. That's gotta come in handy. She smiled wryly. "You sure you're not a psychic? 'Cause I'm pretty sure you just read my mind. Yeah, you got me, I really have no idea what the hell you're thinking, trusting me with this kind of money. I sure as hell wouldn't." Her smile vanished as quickly as it had come, and her voice became thin. "And no, they won't let me see him. Last I heard, at least. Might have a shot now, with gainful employment and a sponsor and Narc-Anon and all that, but..." her shoulders twitched upward. "They're right. It's not a good idea." If my mom showed up on my doorstep, I'd probably break her nose. She rubbed at the bridge of her nose. "I think that with some things, you shouldn't get a second chance. If you f--- it up, it stays f----d up. Nothing you can do will change that, or make up for it. All you can do is try like hell not to make it worse. And sometimes, the best way to do that is to disappear." She fell silent. Fatigue was making her eyes itch. She brushed a hand wearily across her face. God, she wanted a nap. Even more so than usual. "So thanks for asking, but I'm dealing with it the only real way I can."
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Sam took the check and stared at it slightly disbelievingly, as though expecting it to vanish at any moment. This was almost as much money as she'd ever had all in one place in her entire life. Which probably wouldn't have been the case if I hadn't kept putting my paychecks up my nose. She hadn't even started working yet, and Lynn just handed her nearly five hundred bucks? What was to keep her from walking off with the money and never being heard from again? She could see that working here was going to be a slightly different experience than the string of seedy grocery stores and greasy spoons she had spent several consecutive years getting systematically fired from. "Yeah. Okay," she said, tucking the check carefully into her pocket and passing the other woman her ID and Social Security card, which she normally didn't carry but had made a point of bringing today. "Here's my ID and stuff. And yeah, I think I'll keep the whole cape thing a secret for now." Or try, at least. "When do I start?"
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Sam nodded Lynn spoke, a grateful feeling growing in her chest even as the energy faded from her eyes. "It's clear. I'll try not to let you down." Unless I get eaten by a dinosaur or sucked through an interdimensional rift in the next ninety days, that part should be fine...staying clean is, heh, very much not a problem...my parole officer is...hopefully the understanding type... She couldn't think what could go wrong, which made her faintly nervous. It was her experience that not foreseeing a problem just meant it would catch you off guard. But, well, she couldn't foresee a problem. "And..." she hesitated for a long moment, "...thank you. For this chance. And also for keeping the details...you know...under your hat." She realized her fingernails were trying to dig into her inner arm, but were being foiled by her long sleeves. Hah. "I'm trying to start over here, you know, and I don't want everyone here to be looking at me like..." she trailed off weakly.
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The brief change in Lynn's demeanor was not lost on Sam. Those were not the eyes of an ordinary bookstore owner. Huh. Lot more ex-junkie superheroes in this city than I thought. And she didn't seem like she was about to throw her out, oddly. Doubt briefly nagged at the back of her mind. It was still possible that she was...no, she was obviously a meta. That wasn't something you could fake. And if she was a bad guy, she was damned good at hiding it. Sam had just been more honest with her than she had been with anyone in a long time, she might as well go all the way. In for a dime, in for a dollar. She looked around quickly, furtively, making sure no one else could see, then leaned back in her seat. Her eyes flickered white for a moment, then ignited into two featureless, glowing orbs of radiance that cast faint shadows across her face. "We met 'on the job,'" she said flatly. "Somebody was putting a new drug on the streets. People were getting hurt. We wanted to stop it. We did."
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Sam felt her muscles go tense, and she forced herself to relax. It wasn't as if she hadn't been expecting this. If anything, what was surprising was that she hadn't been rejected out of hand. Most employers weren't quite so open-minded when it came to ex-cons, she knew. Usually, you tick that particular box and you're out on your ass. She looked Lynn square in the eye and said, "Drugs. I was addicted to cocaine. Then heroin. I'm clean now." Very clean. "Attending Narc-Anon. It won't be a problem." It was tempting, so tempting, to just leave it at that. Drug conviction, nothing else. Open and shut, nice and simple, nothing terrible. But that wasn't the way to do things, was it? Not if she really wanted to make a fresh start. Starlight could keep her mistakes secret. Samantha was going to have to learn to live with them. She dropped her gaze, just for the briefest of moments, before snapping her eyes back up. "And child abuse, too." There it was. The words seemed to her to hang in the air. It was almost a relief to say aloud. She knew she might as well start heading for the door now and save herself some time, but her limbs felt leaden, as though speaking those four words had drained the energy from her. So she tucked her chin into her hands and waited.
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Sam was still glancing over her shoulder perplexedly as she entered the office. That was weird. Was that a fake dagger? When the woman behind the desk spoke, she wrenched her attention back and shook her hand. "Hey." She sank into one of the chairs, glanced around, and said, "Nice office. Nice store, too. Lot of..." she searched for an appropriate compliment, "...books." Being brought back to talk to the boss after mentioning Richard Cline made her more and more sure of her gut feeling, but she decided to keep playing it safe. "So, your assistant was looking at my application a moment ago. Nothing wrong, I hope?" You're not chomping at the bit to hire a drug-addled ex-con?
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Starlight saw the T-Rex seem to be shaken for a moment when the skinhead was hurt. Okay, so he's animating or controlling it somehow? Does that mean that if we just take him out...She changed targets, abandoning her attack on the dinosaur, instead swinging around in midair, clapping her fists together, and releasing a blazing bolt of energy straight at the bald guy. He already looked like he was stunned from the magician's attack, so she hoped this would be enough to put him down and out. It was. The blast sent him flying, and seemed to take care of the skeletal monster as well. She waited a moment, making sure they were really down, then descended to earth. Her boots tapped against the ground as she landed, and she brushed her hair back from her face. "Well...that was a first," she said.
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Huh. Is she...in the business, I wonder? She didn't want to make any rash assumptions, so Starlight waved a hand enigmatically. "We have some common interests," she said, keeping her meaning also carefully unclear. "He was willing to put in a good word for me here." She twitched her shoulders in a frank sort of way. "And I doubt any of my previous employers would be. So." She dumped a potentially dangerous amount of cream and sugar into her coffee and stirred it in, then took a sip. She closed her eyes briefly, allowing the flavor to flood her senses. She was starting to get used to tasting things again. She didn't so much as cough this time.
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Standard: Attack Bovver Boy with a Blast 12. Attack Roll: 1d20+8 26 That's a Toughness save DC of 27.
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"Coffee's good," said Sam shortly, seating herself across from her. While these days caffeine didn't seem to affect her any more than...anything else did, the taste alone was almost enough to fool her into thinking it did. Besides, ever since recently abandoning her extended fast, she made a point of tasting things at every possible opportunity. She had quite a bit of lost time to make up for. She placed the sheet of paper on the table and slid it across to the other woman. "So, here's my application." There didn't seem to be much else to say about that that wasn't already reflected on the form, so she nodded to Gretch's tattoos. "Nice ink, by the way."
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"She's doing her music stuff. Deejaying, that kind of thing. She's actually pretty damn good, you know. She could probably hit it big someday. But hell, right now, it pays the rent and keeps food in the fridge." Although unless I can restrain myself, the poor fridge might be feeding two heroes now. "I'm...not exactly doing a lot to help out, though. Just taking up space." Starlight's lips quirked in a smile. "Suppose I could take the pocket money off the muggers and dealers I thrash and put it towards the rent, but that just doesn't seem right somehow." She shrugged. "I do like to think the neighborhood is safer for us being there, though. Dealers and muggers don't know what the hell hit them. Gives us something to do at night, right?"
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Sam accepted the application, as well as a pen. She was about to ask for a cup of coffee as well when she felt eyes on her, and glanced around at a young brunette who seemed to be eyeballing her. She took a moment to repress her reflexive paranoia - there was no way this girl could know who she was - and, grabbing the form, quickly retreated to one of the tables to fill it out. She placed the tip of the pen to the paper, and stopped. Name. No turning back after this. She hadn't officially used her birth name in...a while. For a variety of reasons. Samantha Madison Lawrence, she wrote, and looked quickly around, as if expecting a SWAT team to come crashing through the windows. No such thing occurred. She let out a quiet breath, reproached herself for being an idiot, and returned her attention to the application. She put down Asli's apartment as her place of residence, carefully omitted mentioning her real "special skills," and decided she had no preference for hours. Commuting is not a problem. Neither is fatigue. Richard Cline was her reference, and she thought it was probably a pretty good one at that. And...she sighed. Yes, I have been incarcerated. After a while, she was done. She surveyed it critically, winced at her crappy handwriting, and stood. She approached the bar again, tapping it to get his attention. "Finished. Where do I take this?" she asked, holding up the application. Geeze, it really is like high school. Hope I don't flunk everything again.
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Sam paused on the bottom step, partly to compose herself before entering, and partly to once more roll back the sleeve of the too-big sweater she'd had to borrow from Asli. She knew that what she ordinarily wore wasn't a real costume, and wasn't likely to attract a second glance on the street, but she still hadn't felt comfortable showing up in her Starlight clothes. She wasn't exactly what you would call a top-tier hero, but no matter how unlikely it was, there was always the risk of someone recognizing her. A risk she didn't feel like taking today, if she could help it. Her hair was tied into a tight braid instead of her usual ponytail, and she had taken out her earrings. A paper-thin disguise to be sure, but the best she could do at the moment. She made a mental note to look into getting a mask. The door felt cool against her palm, which was sweating slightly despite the fact that she never got hot anymore. She glanced at the sign - yeah, this is the place - and pushed inside. She glanced around the interior of the store, trying to decide which of the employees looked least busy. After a moment, she settled on the guy with the bandana, and approached the bar. She leaned in slightly towards him, and kept her voice quiet. She had been shushed by enough librarian-types in high school for one lifetime. "Uh, 'scuse me," she said. "I'm here about the job?"
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Claremonters in Space! A Lighthouse Field Trip!
R. Bluefish replied to The Sailor's topic in Archives
Ah, what the hell - Vox will go, if you'll have him. -
Starlight blinked. "Super-academy? I though it was just a school. I just assumed that because you have money and live in..." she trailed off and looked around at their faces. "Uh...I won't tell anybody." She started to wonder what else she didn't know about the real workings of the city, and decided she was probably getting in over her head. "So..." she said, changing the subject clumsily, "...are you, uh...faster than your dad? Did you get any of your mom's powers?"