Blue Rose
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"That wasn't her, that was whoever had the remote!" Sam corrects between gunshots. "It wasn't her choice, and she backed off when I fried the radio!" Then, the last goon makes a very bad decision, and Sam lowers her voice. "Her?" she points in the crook through the wall. "She had a choice. I have a plan." In moments, she takes on the voice and appearance of the man she talked out of evildoing earlier and takes up his gun she hid earlier. A thump against the wall and a dropped gun later, she's explained her disappearance. "Freeze, girly," she grumbles in a man's voice. "I got 'em; we're coming out!" she calls to the goon as she points the gun at Tona's back. Safety on, of course.
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Alright, the receiver is down. She's backing off. Good, now, just gotta- Wham! Wham! Wham! No... no, no, no, no, no! "Don't hurt her!" she calls out as Tona brings down one final blow that reduces the poor animal to a battered mess, and leaves Sam's jaw hanging open. She never gets used to it when Tona gets like that. She's not even sure if the dinosaur's alive after that. "You didn't have to..." she trails off, as bullets stream through the door. No time to dwell on it right now. She flicks her fist open, releasing a wispy blue puff of flame that zips around the corner and through the door. Her fox fire isn't the most devastating thing, but the pain is extraordinary; as the next volley of bullets ends, she hear's a man's scream, then the flop of a body on the ground.
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Blasting a random mook, after Sam's done being dumbfounded. Attack: 1d20+12 27 DC17 Toughness to resist.
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Dammit! That radio woman wasn't the one controlling, maybe? "Something's resisting me..." she calls out, studying the tech on the animal's head. Would probably just need to unscrew that panel and... Screw it! She reaches out to the receiver and blue sparks arc out of her hand, unmaking a few important looking wires. "Need a couple more seconds..."
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To hit: Attack: 1d20+12 22 Disable Device: 1d20+10 14. Oof. Disable Device, HP reroll: 1d20+10 27
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Ah. I read that as a result of 20, not 30. Kinda skews the odds, there. Kit: Initiative: 1d20+5 23
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Emotion Control: 1d20+7 18 HP to reroll. Emotion Control, HP reroll: 1d20+7 20 How do ties work on a power check? 'Cuz I'm willing to use my last hero point to have a dinosaur friend.
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Power of love, baby! I use emotion control on the dinosaur. A dinosaur that probably doubles as cover against the guns at the moment.
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Maybe not. In a world where the first resort is usually punching things until they stop moving, Sam has gotten a lot of mileage out of a winning smile and the power of friendship. Black magic and friendship. With the main interference dealt with, Sam reaches out to the magnificent beast and starts petting its head, filling its mind with soothing thoughts. "It's okay, girl. Good girl; pretty girl. You don't want to hurt us." As she redirects her magic, the skeletal, cackling thing in the bullet storm fades away. Not long now before they turn their guns. She'd better even these odds real quick.
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"The signal is bullets," Sam says as the scene unfolds. In the room, the skeletal thing pretends to clean its twice nonexistent nails in disinterest. "Boredom, mostly," it answers, but when the blonde mentions shooting, it perks up. "Really?" Its body rolls into a cross-legged position, then its head moves, spinning twice atop the horror's neck as it rests its hands on its knees, a dull fire just starting to rise in the back of those hollow, lifeless eyes. "Interesting." It sits there, smiling, daring the goons to light it up.
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"How cute. The little humans think I care," the Cheshire thing says as it rolls over in the air. Or rather, its body does, while its head stays perfectly still. Back on the other side of the door, Sam wings a plan together. "I think that one with the radio is controlling the dinosaur. Think you can take her out, then we go in and take the rest? I can calm the dinosaur down if she goes wild." As she speaks, her illusion bursts into a mad cackle, fading in and out of existence in various physically improbable poses at the far side of the room, making a general attention grab.
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"I try not to," she assures the man. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" And with that, she moves on. Gotta keep going forward before... whatever craziness this guy is trying to pull. Sam sizes up the situation. Hostages. Crap. That makes this complicated. "I'm gonna make a distraction, then we move. Ready?" In the compartment, Sam wills an image into being. A creature, a vague mockery in human form, skeletally thin under purple pinstripes and lacy skirt, limbs moving at impossible angles for anything connected by sinew. The thing's head is large, broad, covered in a bone-white mask with gaping holes for eyes and an enormous, Cheshire grin. It floats in the air in utter defiance of gravity, chin resting on gloved hands. "Aw, look at the little humans," it mocks with a high, grating voice, like fingers on a chalk board. "Pretending they're powerful."
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Sam raises a finger, mouth hanging open, but she's speechless. Utterly speechless. It takes a moment for her to compose herself, then declares, "So. Next time you're talking to a prospective employer, I'd like you to find an excuse to spend a minute alone. Maybe a moment in the bathroom to freshen up. Then, I want you to reword whatever they're saying the goal is just like that, to see if it passes the crazy test." That settled, it's on to business. "I suggest you get somewhere safe until this blows over. Where is this doctor?" The boy might also be a good place to start, but if they can stop the doctor, then the boy should be safe, and they have a better lead on one than the other. As soon as they have the information, it's back to creeping forward.
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Okay. Mad scientist testing super drug on random civilians. That seems pretty straightforwa- "Wait, dinosaurs?" Sam blinks. "Um... what dinosaurs? Does he, like... have them in cages or something?" That was a lot of info so fast. Evil drug? Check. Captive for ransom to make more evil drug? Check. Dinosaurs? What in the? And with their luck, they aren't the adorable, playful little ones she had so much fun with when she went time traveling.
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Tona's suggestion earns her a glare filled with disbelief. This man obviously needs a shoulder to cry on more than he needs a fist to the jaw. But she quickly returns her attention to the now-unarmed man, rubbing his back and . "If you really care about her, isn't it more important that she's happy than if she's with you? To respect her, and her choice? I know it hurts, but crazy stuff like this? This isn't the way. This isn't going to help anybody. The first step to healing is to talk to her, to get it out there so you're not just bottling it up inside until it destroys you. I'm not gonna lie; it'll probably be a clean break, and it'll suck. But you'll wake up tomorrow, and it won't be as bad, and the next day it will be a little better, until eventually, you learn to live with it and move on, ya know?" She considers how to deal with the cape talk for a moment. "I wouldn't worry about jail. All I've seen from you so far is the illegal gun. Cooperate with the police and it will probably just be a couple months in minimum security. I know I don't look it, but I've been in places like that before; it's really just some time to think. To get your head in order. And there are people there who can help with that. What you need is some time to cool down, find your center, and learn to love yourself before..." she trails off, not sure how to finish that sentence, so she lets him do it for her. Too many touchy subjects she could hint at if she finished it herself.
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Diplomacy: 1d20+11 21
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Sam gestures for Tona to stay put as she advances, taking his machine gun, then his pistol. This guard is far too long gone to even notice, and she hides the weapons quickly, but as she goes back for one more check, and she's almost ready to call Tona over to hogtie him when she sees his phone, and stops. The spell fades. Feelings like that don't just instantly go away, but he's no longer forced to tears. A small hand finds its way onto the sobbing guard's shoulder. "Go," she says softly. "Forget about all this, and tell her how you really feel."
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Yes. Yes, I do.
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Well, I'm not gonna try and hogtie the guy while he's crying and trying to call his mommy. Instead, I'm gonna knick his gun. If he has an obvious sidearm, I'm going to take that, too. Skill mastery for a 22 on Sleight of Hand. To notice a sidearm... Notice: 1d20+6 24 Another take 10 for 22 on Sleight of Hand to take the sidearm.
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If Tona moves like a panther, Sam moves like a housecat, light and sly, if not so much a physical threat. It also helps that she reaches out with her magic an wills all who are not Tona to ignore her. Some might say it renders the skulking redundant, but she's run into things that can ignore her mental manipulations many times before. When they come by the train staff- probably some sort of mercenary, and probably armed. She places a hand on Tona's arm to stop her, so she can do her work. It's an odd thing, reaching into someone's head. Not a psychic, Sam can't really read anything in there, but she can tell what things are. Whatever this goon is doing, he has purpose, so she buries that deep, and starts pulling up every doubt she can find, running into little resistance on the way. Hopefully, he isn't a crier.
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Then despair. Yay, paralyzing existential crisis!
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Invisibility along the way, switching to emotion control to calm the guard down so that we can zip tie him. DC17 will.
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Despite the prompting, Sam stops for a moment. Just soup is a rather strange meal to offer. She was never even asked about food; if she had, she certainly wouldn't have ordered Tona she crab soup. Thinking about it, it isn't kosher, or halal, a lot of people are allergic to shellfish, and there's almost always a vegetarian option. And she and Tona hadn't eaten it. "They poisoned the soup," she says, and mutters a curse in that strange language she sometimes uses when frustrated that makes Tona's hair stand on end and sounds like it shouldn't come from a human throat. Then she turns away from the cabin and nods, letting Tona lead the way. As much as she doesn't like it, if there's a physical fight, Tona stands the better chance.
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Kit Sounds Like A Sequel Wayward Beautiful Poetry of the Earth
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Sam doesn't dodge out of the way so much as wobble. It's looking like she's going to have to pull herself together right quick if they're going to get through... whatever this is. Random civilians freaking out this violently doesn't seem like the work of drugs, so her first thought is magic, but she doesn't sense anything of the sort. But right now, there's the immediate concern. She nods at Tona's request, and goes to get a couple handfuls of zip ties. Something tells her they'll need to tie up more than just these two, then heads back to hand half of them to Tona and pocket the rest. "If that's what everyone's like, maybe we should keep the locks on the door. Whatever did this, I can't sense it; maybe something psychic?" While Tona takes care of the woman, Sam leads the temporarily docile man back to his seat to tie him up. He may be safe now, but as soon as she drops her focus, he'll probably go back to the berserker rage.