Blue Rose

Damn. Hadn't made the point clear enough before it all hit the fan. Now, this is going to be that much harder. She removes the holster while Tona grabs her gear, setting it carefully atop her jacket. It's caused enough disturbance for now. She approaches her girlfriend and shakes her head, placing her hand against the one with the bow. "I'm sorry." She sighs, and tries to explain, afraid there's about a snowball's chance in Hell of Tona listening. "I'm the heir. I have to take the mantle. I have to beat her as the Phantom Fox, not Kit. I was raised for this. I was raised in the Trade, in her circles. I have to stick to that in order to beat her, to prove I'm the true Fox. If I don't respect the old ways, if I'm the one who breaks the circle, then there is no heir. There is no Fox, and I've failed at everything she raised me to be. I have to do this right. To show her what she was supposed to be. Otherwise?" She looks back at the discarded weapon with disgust, "That's going to be the only way."

KIT We Need To Talk

On land very briefly. It seems the new upgrades are completely incompatible with the utterly antiquated version of IE the boat has. Further limits availability.

Sam curls up close, each touch reminding her of other ways she'd like this conversation to end. One last quiet night together, with significantly more skin touching skin... But this all has to be said, before... Then, Tona finds it. Too late. Best to explain quick. "She... she gave up the right to call herself that the day I left, but there's only one person who can take that name, but she hasn't been able to step forward and take it. Until now." She licks her lips, nervous, unsure whether to hold Tona close for support, or distance herself in shame. "I am the Phantom Fox. But, since Fo-" she cuts herself of, "Since... my teacher didn't give me the title, I have to steal it. Which means I have to beat her. On even terms. As the Fox. I don't know how she'll react. It... might not end well. I might... I might have to..." Her eyes begin to well up, and she can't finish. Instead, she undoes her jacket, letting it fall to the floor, revealing a shoulder holster, with a black, metal handle protruding. Attached to a 9mm handgun.

Kit: >Empty Mirror >We Need To Talk

Wow. Sam does make a point of being tight-lipped on her life as a thief, but she didn't think she'd been that tight-lipped. "Not... quite. Fox did train me, but she didn't leave me anything. Actually, I left her. Now I'm living with Miss Vance. She's a cape, too, in Chicago. Goes by Masque. She's the one with the money. She was... well, her relationship with Fox was weird. I guess nemesis and girlfriend kind of sums it up? I want you to meet her, but... when she's ready." As things get more complicated, Sam starts talking faster, but eventually catches herself and calms down, taking a seat in Tona's lap. "But my teacher wasn't the first Phantom Fox, and she won't be the last. The title is for a kind of... thief paragon, I guess you could say? The Fox is supposed to be a champion of the old ways. What used to be the thieves' code, before it fell out of fashion. A kind of honor among thieves. The values I was raised with. The Fox is there to show the world that we can be great, that we can be successful, that we can be rich, and still be honorable, merciful, compassionate." She sighs, reminiscing on what should have been. "I left Fox when she betrayed all that. One mission, she set some explosives as a distraction, for expedience's sake. A lot of them. She killed a lot of people, and that's... it's... It's not how we do business, so I left. I turned myself into AEGIS, and Miss Vance took me in and sent me to Claremont." She goes over what she said versus what she thought, having trouble separating the two, and pauses. "Does that make any sense?" she asks, hoping she was coherent.

While the others busy themselves with the dimension-hopping clone people, Sam decides it might be a good idea to get Maddy out of here, no matter what Lynn thinks. And if she can catch a whiff of anti-Lynn along the way, all the better. She comes up behind Lynn's employee and drops her cloak only to her. One of the perks of willing oneself unnoticed instead of actually being invisible; it's a lot less jarring to come into sight. "Maddy," she whispers from cover, offering her hand. "We should get you out of here. Safest place with weird juju flying around is away, I say." Maddy may be calm right now, but if more weird happens, the last thing they need is a civilian freaking out over it. And even if all their guests they've seen so far are friendly, who's to say there aren't more lurking out there somewhere, ready to do something stupid?

"I'd rather sunbathe on the shores of Cocytus," Sam groans at the weather in the hellhole she calls home. "Couldn't find anything I liked, but I have a little custom something on order. I'm sure it'll get here around the time the thaw starts," she says lightly. She rests her head on Tona's shoulder, arm slipping around her waist, and closes her eyes. For a while, she's just happy to be there; to hold and be held, to touch and be touched. For a time, she's tempted to put all unpleasant thoughts from her mind. To get swept away in the moment and let it go where it will. A last night together should be pleasant, after all. Unfortunately, reality forces itself upon her as Tona's fingers wander too close to something she'd rather not discuss just yet. So, instead, Sam takes Tona's fingertips in hand, planting soft kisses upon the lady's hand. A smooth, suave, natural gesture. Some corner of her mind tells her she should probably feel guilty for how often she calls on her training in misdirection and deceit against her loved ones. But she can grow a conscience about that later. "Have I ever talked to you about the old ways and the phantom fox? The title, not the person." A clumsy segue. But better to try and make this part comfortable small talk about her past than a prelude to the bad news.

While Sam waits, she goes through a stack of letters. To Mali, to Cerys, to Elias, to Lia... and so many scrapped drafts. Too many ties, but it's worth the price. One of the perks of letters; time. If she mails them as she leaves, they won't get them until she's well and truly gone. But there's one more letter to write, and this one will be much easier. "Miss Vance- They found her. In pursuit. I have the contingency. Will return alive. Please speak to the principal and look after Soot. -Samantha Vance, The Phantom Fox" Her first time using that name. That'll take some getting used to. Just like that brand new white trench coat lying across her bed- "I've got sunshine on a cloudy day./When it's cold outside, I got the month of may..." Her phone goes off with Tona's text. This... is the hard part. She pockets another contingency plan, then steps through her closet, into the shadows, through the cold black void, across the country, and out a familiar bathroom in New Jersey. Public transportation eat your heart out. As she steps out, the first to greet her is her cat, Mitsy. Or rather, the remains of someone else's cat. The animated remains of a much older pet. Sam takes the time for some cuddling with the little skeleton, "Did Mitsy miss Mommy? Mommy missed Mitsy. Gimme kissy, gimme kissy," she greets her with an excessively sappy display. This is going to be a heavy conversation, but it has to be played right. All gloom and no levity isn't going to help her get her point across. Tona, she greets with a smile, a hug, and a peck on the cheek. "Hey, babe. Hope I'm not interrupting anything too important?" she asks, shooting a knowing glance to the math homework.

In Chicago, Sam paces her bedroom, circling her bed with the nervous energy of a caged tiger. She'd had an ear to the ground for years, waiting for this day. And now... Three letters. Three independent sources. Three clues, all pointing the same way. Dammit, why now? Not that later would be any better. Gotta go, gotta get to... but there's so much going on right now. To drop everything... But... She stops, and sighs. She may not like it, but the decision is obvious. She looks out her window to the vast, snow-covered lawn and sighs. A thief must always be ready to pack up and move. She's gathered too many attachments. This is not a mistake, but it has a price. Time to pay up. She pulls out a phone and sends her girlfriend a text, actually using proper grammar. "Hey, Tona. Something came up. We need to talk. It's important. Mind making sure there's space in the broom closet? -Sam" This is going to suck.

Elite >Tales of the Praetorians: We Are Legion Kit >Disastrous Delinquency

Tatiana considers the situation, measuring the suggestions against the data. "The problem any proposal to engage the enemy comes across is, most seek to corner the pirates. What's more, corner them in their most defensible position, at their most prepared. At present, we only know of the main cave entrance, making any attempts at a flanking maneuver ineffective, as it would ultimately funnel through the same chokepoint to face the same desperate, prepared, and dangerous foe." She taps her chin, contemplating the scenario. "The individual pirate must be allowed to perceive some manner of escape, even if it is flight across the wasteland. Those who flee with minimal equipment can be dealt with or safely ignored at some later point. However, we need to know more about the lay of the compound. Depending on how much firepower we can bring to bear on the structure itself..." she considers the logistics against the abilities of her allies for a moment, before resuming. They can probably manage it somehow. "If a strike team were to touch down atop the base and start dealing extensive structural damage, to the point of collapsing the main entrance as our opening attack, we remove their most dangerous means of egress- space travel- while forcing them to employ other exits to mount a counter-offensive. An infiltration team can monitor the emergence of enemy forces, identifying alternate entrances, likely to be less well guarded once their forces mobilize to engage the strike team. This will allow the infiltration team to enter, neutralize the leadership, and cripple their infrastructure, removing their ability to threaten our trade routes."

THAELIA SMASH!

Sam slips between the boys while their backs are turned to the demon cat, and she places a steadying hand on their shoulders, escorting them out. "I didn't catch the details, but I think you started at too much, then the tequila happened. We should get you some air. Then see about getting you a ride." She throws Thaelia a glance, wondering if this is a good idea. But this thing seems to feed on fear. The girls beat its power, so if she can get the boys out, the creature should be rendered impotent and easily smashed the old fashioned way. If she just leaves them be, though? They might turn back into food. So, she gives her friend a nod, having faith she can handle what has to happen next while she gets the civilians safe.

Elite >Incursion: Blood in the Water Kit >Disastrous Delinquency >Empty Mirror Wayward >Full Throttle

Waves of fear wash over Sam as the fight continues. This unnatural... thing! It's so... it's so... So... what? It's a barely moving dead cat with a bit of and a couple frat boys. She survived worse when she was just a kid. This fear... it's artificial. Some sort of fear spirit? Or demon? Then... maybe that's how it's controlling the boys? "Please, stop," Sam says, discarding her fighting stance, trying to look and sound nonthreatening. "Why are you angry? No one's trying to hurt you." These people are obviously out of touch with reality. Her words may not even be getting through to them, but her tone should. And hopefully, there are limits to how far weird juju can distort her manner and tone into something threatening or terrifying. Of course, it's always best to stack the deck, and Sam reaches into their heads to start calming things, not directly fighting the foul magic but going for a bit of an edge.

I cast talk! Diplomacy, w/ Attractive: 1d20+15 24

Know what? I don't want to flee in terror. HP reroll. Will v Fear, take two: 1d20+5 23

Month-long underway starts in a few days. Very limited availability. Also, we are the surge carrier. If things go wonky on the geopolitical scene, this may roll straight into deployment, in which case there will be limited availability for up to a year.

The Elite places her faith in her comrade's ability to survive the warship's attentions. Right now, she's buying time. Time that will be put to good use. On the hull, she takes a knee before her chosen maneuvering thruster, examining the structure. This hull is thick, the damage she can do is limited, and time is tight. This thruster seems to be a fairly straightforward chemical combustion thruster. Simple, primitive, reliable. But not without a weakness. She drives her plasma cutter of a sword into the side of the small engine, boring a hole trough the nozzle. If they try this thruster now, the thrust will scatter and the fuel won't ignite properly. One down, she travels down the hull for the next thruster.

I stab the space ship really hard in the face. Attack; Sword of the Master, +/-2 Power Attack, Master Plan +2: 1d20+8 20 DC29 Toughness against Damage.

Will v Fear: 1d20+5 17

Emotion control: Calm on the one that punched Sam. DC17.

Good. Thaelia's going for the... Hm? WHAM! A fist greets Sam square on the chin, sending her flying, but she rolls with it, getting back on her feet. Well. That was... abnormal. But this guy isn't responsible for what he does while brainwashed by a psychic undead demon kitty, so cutting loose the hellfire isn't exactly kosher. Instead, she gets light on her feet while digging into the boy's mind, boring right past the haze to try and just turn his more aggressive instincts... off. Hard to be violent when you just had all motivation cut off. The important question is, how long before Thaelia forgets the mark and gets caught up in the scrap? Best to get rid of the temptation fast.

Elite Kit Wayward