Blue Rose
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"High praise," Wayward declares as she takes off her helmet and shakes free her dark hair, donning her signature devious smirk. "Coming from a gal on fire." She gives Pitch a wink as she returns to hauling victims. It takes some willpower not to laugh at that, 'or there will be trouble,' line, but it seems to be getting the kid some mileage, so who's to judge? But then, something inside calls to her. A sense, like someone's there, but she's sure she got everyone. As she follows the call, she finds herself before the pile of ashes that were once a man. Pain. Fear. Fire. Screaming. She finds herself getting lost in the surge of sensation, but she stops herself. And then, the eyes appear. No time to back down. This... thing has information, and she's going to get it! Her green eyes lock with this... thing. The surge grows stronger, but she stands fast, willing the creature to reveal its secrets to her, pressing her powers harder than she ever has before. She calls it closer... closer... "What... are... you?" But the distraction is too much. As the vision, the creature touches her, it sucks her in, as if she tapped into someone else's senses, but this time, there's no escape. She feels the knife, and then... the burning. Consuming everything. Her scream cuts through the night.
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Wayward shall try to use her unrivaled force of will to bring order to this psychic chaos and glean useful information from it! Concentration: 1d20+2 8 Truly, a smashing success.
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Terrifica isn't even done speaking before Sam takes action. Though she's loathe to give them credit, these guys are professionals. Well-equipped and well-prepared. If they want an evac, they just might be able to manage a distraction big enough to do it. The last thing these guys want going around is information, and that's the first thing this crew will need to figure out what's going on here. With a ready-made sack of intel just lying on the ground, waiting for a bow, it won't do to let them just take it back. Sam slips a burn phone out of her pocket while Terrifica's back is turned, sliding it into a pocket of the older woman's coat before slinking back towards the unconscious man under the desk. Without a sound, the pair falls through the shadows, all the way back home, to the Vance estate in Chicago. An unfurnished, pure white room. As soon as she's back in reality, she makes a dash for one of Masque's equipment stashes for a length of rope, passing through the dining room on the way back, finding her guardian enjoying a rare quiet moment. Sipping wine and reading a book after dinner. The little redhead running buy with rope gathers a glare that stops Sam in her tracks. "And just what might this all be about, Samantha?" she asks calmly, adjusting her glasses as she appraises the girl. At that, Sam screws up her face, mind racing to put together a story. Has to be a good one to get by Ms. Vance, except... actually, this time, maybe the truth is best? She takes a deep breath, then explains without pause, "On the job. We got a high tech robbery in progress in Freedom City. The crooks have an evac team en route. I knocked one out, and I pulled him out so he can't get evac'd; we need the intel. Have him in a white room, and I need to tie him up. The others are handling his friends." At that, Ms. Vance cocks an eyebrow. "I trust you have the situation under control?" "Yes, ma'am!" "Very good. Hurry along before our guest wakes up." With that, Ms. Vance returns to her book, and Sam runs back to tie up her captive. And preparing for when he wakes up, as she draws on her powers to reach into his mind and make herself seem as the Cheshire skeletal figure she was using earlier. Maybe tied up, he won't be able to hurt himself.
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Sleight of Hand to plant a burn phone on Terrifica. Sleight of Hand: 1d20+12 28
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Knowledge: Tactics for a Master Plan roll: Master Plan: 1d20+20 37 That'll do.
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The Elite rises from tactical readouts of their attackers to walk over to comms on this woefully undermanned ship. Too many systems are simply being put on automated with a prayer that nothing goes wrong. They'll need to train up new personnel to man this ship properly sooner rather than later. But for now, it's a matter of going half-cocked improvising their way through ill-conceived operations based on guesswork and brute force. Unfortunate, but such is the necessity of the situation. A mechanical hand reaches out to press a switch, the sensation of cold plastic coming in sharper than it should. This arm needs some tuning. "Solid copy, Paradigm. I've been reviewing sensor readings from the enemy ships, and I have some ideas. We're currently working on an antimatter burst on our end to jam their sensors momentarily and convince the enemy we've escaped through hyperspace while we hide behind the Either Ore and run silent. If you exit the remote side from the enemy approach, I will join you to engage the enemy in space. Enemy weapons and main engines seem to be of relatively sturdy construction, but maneuvering thrusters appear to be more vulnerable. If we target there, the fighters will be rendered impotent as they drift past and the boarding ship won't be able to dock with the Either Ore, forcing them to deploy the boarding party through open space. The more of them we can engage en route, the fewer we need to worry about interfering with repair efforts." Beebeebeep! Beebeebeep! The Elite takes a look at the beeping engineering panel, then announces to both Paradigm and the pilot, "Antimatter burst in forty seconds. Once the battle begins, the Devotion will go live and dock with the Either Ore. As soon as FTL is available, we need to get back to the freighter so we can get out immediately. And if we take a few boarders with us, we may be able to get more up-to-date information on their technology."
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The young thief has to suppress a sudden, clingy instinct as her girlfriend steps away. Clingy is not going to improve things. So, she stands back and listens. She's not fluent in French, but between Fox and Tona, she's learned a little bit. Like... "the!" The word "the" was definitely in there! And... okay, there were a few forms of "to be" sprinkled in. And... well. That was definitely "love." Not surprising. And a good cue to stop trying to eavesdrop. Better to turn her attention to the party, and to Lance. "So, karaoke, is it? If I may?" Best to divert everyone else's attention from the French conversation, too. Not that they'll get much more out of it than she did. "When the devil is to busy, and death's a bit too much, they call on me by name you see, for my special touch..." she begins a rendition of When You're Evil. A fitting song for the time, not so much the voice. It's not that she has a bad singing voice. Just one that's several octaves too high for the song. But hey, karaoke's about how much fun you have, not the quality of performance you put on, right? Right?
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"Been a while, babe," the star almost shouts, the noise muffled by her helmet and drowned out by the roar of the fire. A bunch of pyromaniac bikers go bonkers, then Pitch shows up? Interesting. Wayward isn't suspicious, per se, but still. Similar descriptions. Maybe a couple questions are in order? Old friends, maybe? At the very least, Pitch probably knows more in the weird juju department. But this is no time to worry about that. "Good luck, but forgive me if I hedge these guys' bets." She looks above, scanning for any burning beams liable to fall down on someone and pulls those at risk clear before going to the worst-off looking sap and hoisting him into a fireman's carry and hauling him out, shouting to the cops and the other capes as she walks clear. "Three more out cold inside," she reports, already on her way as she drops off the first.
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Kit Wayward
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Damn, this thing's tough. Who thought a giant pile of metal would be this hard to bash to bits with a stick? But as the creature starts twisting, contorting, and compressing, Wayward sees her opening. Just in time to see a volley of razor-sharp feathers flying at her. Thinking quickly, Wayward takes two birds with one stone. A little quick footwork has her behind the statue, using it as a shield against the deadly rain as she throws all her weight and momentum into a thrust for the knee, aiming to blow it out from the behemoth's own weight.
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I Hit It With A Stick, -2 for fighting defensively: 1d20+10 20 DC23 Touchness if hit, +2 defense for the round.
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So. I'm thinking Sam snags Terrifica's cell via sleight of hand, then swaps it with her own, letting her 'port out the captive, and then when the dust settles on the whole helicopter thing, make contact with her own phone to get back in touch with the scene, captive in hand. I can roll if you'd like, EP, or we can just say it works 'cuz it's cool. Especially if the helicopter means things start going badly and too many folks start getting away.
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"Murderous biker babes with crazy fire powers just trashed Czanarchy. Some crappy dive bar. Eye witnesses rate them anywhere from eights to tens. I'm texting you the address; place is still on fire. Great intro for an episode. Take the motorcycle; it makes for a more dynamic entry and fits the biker theme." Click. Well. Good old Pam. Her point of contact with Super-Vision. Always keeping her informed on the most attention-grabbing crime tips. She tosses on a leather jacket and a helmet on her way down from her penthouse to the garage, jumping on the motorcycle she learned to ride for better intro shots. Plus, it gets through traffic a lot better in an emergency. As long as you're willing to call on the vigilante clause to avoid a few points on your license. Once she's out of the city proper, it's time to call out the hoverrig. Show time. While others she doesn't recognize offhand chat with the cops, Wayward jumps off her bike and rushes past. "Cape on scene!" she shouts by way of explanation as she charges in, staff at the ready as a pry bar as she enters the burning building to look for any lost wounded.
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The reluctant response is, in itself, worrisome, but it's probably normal to not be able to just pick up and go on like nothing happened. Maybe going through the motions will be progress in the right direction? This would be so much easier if Tona would just open up. But she doesn't let her troubled thoughts show. Instead, she dons her sunniest mask, smiling sweetly to her girlfriend's coworkers. "Hello, Lynn! It's great to be here. Thank you so much for having me." She gives her thanks an extra emphasis, that those not privy to her and Tona's relationship issues probably won't catch. After all, she'd been trying to find an opportunity like this for weeks. At Lance's approach, though trying to play it cool, she chokes, mixing up the manners normal people use with the old world etiquette her mentor was so fond of, turning what was probably meant to be a handshake into an older gesture, as she demurely offers him a grasp on her fingertips. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lance. I love your costume!" she beams, a veritable beacon of sunshine. Hopefully, politely ignoring the suspicion will be hint enough to not nag the weirdness.
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Reflex: 1d20+7 18, pass. Evasion! No need for a toughness save.
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"Whatever you're comfortable with, Sam accepts, offering Tona a peck on the cheek and slipping back into more familiar patterns. They can get through this. After all, other capes and cowls can manage to salvage some sort of relationship out of the train wreck that is their job. Why not Sam and Tona? It'll take some work to be sure, but so be it. She dons her hat once more, takes her broom in hand, then slips her arm inside Tona's ready to be escorted to the rest of the party like a proper date. At the suggestion that she might pick a fight with Lynn (again), she laughs it off in good humor. "Oh, if I were to pick a fight, I would have the dignity to challenge her to a proper wizarding duel. I suppose I could borrow a glove for the challenge, but where ever would I find a dragon at this hour?" Of course, a real worry warrants at least SOME real response. "Lynn invited me. Way I was raised, hospitality is kind of a big deal, whether you're host or guest. I'd sooner leave quietly than cause a ruckus."
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As the situation goes south outside, Valerie shuts her eyes to try and focus on the psychic link. Except she doesn't have eyes right now. Weird. That'll take some getting used to. Hopefully, there won't be time for that. "I really wish he'd stop it with the black magic. Feels creepy," she comments to those in the room. But, it's probably more useful to say things the people with physical bodies can understand, so she decides to actually explain. "Okay. We may have to go with... well, I suppose, 'Beat up the bad guy,' is plan A, though I get the feeling I'll regret it in the morning. Cape on the scene; didn't catch who, but she can lift cars. She's currently busy saving civilians from some weird magic insanity beams. Necro-thief's trying to slip away in the confusion; take me with, and I can track him for you."
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Sam lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding, and gives Tona a soft smile, setting hat and broom on a nearby table. "Thank you." She draws a little closer, lightly taking Tona's hand in her own. "If you'd be more comfortable, I could go with you the first time." She shifts uncomfortably in her dress, not sure where they stand anymore, or if she's being too forward. "I missed you, you know?" She tries to act natural. She wants things to go back to normal. Life doesn't work that way, but maybe they can work it out anyways?
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Actually, as she's statted out now, Kit is still PL7. This has never hindered her before, though that's mainly because she almost never uses the direct approach. And when she does, she's handy regardless of PL simply for Teamwork.
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Laptop's infected with... something involving Trovi. Jacking up the site and interface, making it barely navigable, and chat unusable. Dunno how long it will take to scrub. AWOL until then.
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Aha! That attack didn't come from YB, so clearly, that means Wayward poking it with a stick was such a clever and unexpected strategem that the creature got no roll against it at all! :P
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Eh, I wouldn't quite say she loses her charm. There is more to her than the media hubbub, and doing some semi-legit secret agent stuff could be fun. But she would, admittedly, be a very strange choice for AEGIS to ask, unless they're really desperate for a psychic. Elite isn't really available for this sort of thing until after the event. Kit is actually plausible, as she does have some significant brainomancy on hand, though magic vice psionic in nature, and she does have AEGIS connections. Sort of. If you count being a former supervillain on an AEGIS watchlist as "connections." >.>
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Sam slinks in, pointy hat quite literally in hand, wringing the brim nervously. As Tona steps aside and she enters, there is a glimmer of hope that maybe this will go smoothly. Then, Tona's words drive a poisoned knife in her gut. "I never asked for that! There are more ways to fight than just-" the defensive retort comes out unbidden before she bites it back. It's like Tona hadn't even thought about what she was even talking about. "But... I'm not here to argue about that." The words are as much to remind herself as to inform Tona. Stay calm. Stay calm. "After you... left, I talked with Stesha. She helped me realize I was overreacting, but... you've been fighting so hard, and so long, and they've hurt you. Mental wounds are as real as physical, and we both worry. Neither of us are going to keep you from fighting. Just, please, could you talk to Doctor Marquez?" One of Claremont's on-staff psychologists. "They sent me to him when I came to Claremont. He's an alright guy. You can trust him."
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Wayward attacks, with a +/-2 for fighting defensively. Using enhanced strength for pretty much the entire fight. I Hit It With A Stick, -2 for fighting defensively: 1d20+10 18 DC23 Toughness if I hit. DC24 to be hit for the round.
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Oh crap. As the statue shakes her off, it takes Wayward a moment to recover. It takes less than a moment for a friggin' tree to bash her in the head. She manages to roll with the blow, merely getting knocked to the ground and bounce back up in one go, but there are some definite pretty colors from the thump. Something falls past her field of vision, then lands on her lips. Hot. With a sharp, metallic taste. Blood. The star rips a length of cloth from her top, tying it around her head to keep the excessive blood pouring from her forehead from blocking her vision. Head wounds always bleed so overdramatically. Makes for a good shot, and her fans have never complained about her baring a little more belly. "Not bad. Ready for round two?" Human versus metal man. Never a good match-up, but this thing is slow. Clumsy. So long as she stays on her guard and doesn't let him get off another shot, she can win this. And if it's through attrition, well, they can just pick the choice shots in editing. She takes the end of her staff in both hand, brandishing it like a sword, then starts weaving in and out, playing for distance between jabs at the hero's knees. They've gotta be supporting a lot of weight, so keep aiming there and he's gonna go down eventually.