Curious Key

Power Level: 10 (150/150PP)
Unspent Power Points: 0 
Trade-Offs: +3 Defense / -3 Toughness 

In Brief: A fate mage from the netherworlds, escaped from apprenticeship to a dark wizard, looking for a second chance.

Alternate Identity: Ash Edict (Public)
Birthplace: Skylands - Netherworld

Residence: Apartment, West End
Occupation: Finder. Minder. Magical mercenary for hire.
Affiliations: -
Family: Estranged 

Apparent Age: 25 (Converting to your calendars is more trouble than it's worth)
Gender: Agender
Ethnicity: Netherworlder
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 170
Eyes: Gray
Hair: Black

Ash is a narrow-shouldered individual of moderate height. Their eyes are a featureless gray surrounding dark pupils, their hair cut short above their neck, excepting a braid tied along their left ear that tumbles down to their shoulder, their skin a deep, natural tan. They conceal their body's shape under loose clothing and layers. Their wardrobe is full of jeans and plain, shoulder-length, dark shirts. Over these, Ash wears their cloak.

The first magical artifact they made with their own hands, Ash considers their cloak a precious thing, and rarely bares to part from it. a mix of brown, black and gold that fall to their hips, sewn with mystical runes into its insides that flare and spark when harm is done to its wearer. Edict also owns a bat. A typical wooden bat, bought from a sporting goods store that they can't quite remember the name of. It's painted black, and shimmering blue runes are carved along its heft. At first, the bat was a matter of convenience, but over time it has become somewhat an iconic part of Edict's image. Like it or not, it's part of their brand now.

History:

Edict was never a native of earth-prime. The protections and assurances offered to many born there, the protection of their guardian sorcerer, these were things that Edict had never known. The world that they were born was one build on levitating blocks of earth above a twisting maelstrom of power. These were the Skylands, a Netherworld, as the people of Earth Prime were known to call them, a nominally independent tributary of Empress Una's (may she reign for all eternity) grand, interdimensional sovereignty.

This was the place where Ash was born. It was where they thought they'd die.

Even then Ash was always, in a curious way, a lucky child. Born under the right stars, with a secret magic burning dormant in their body, Ash understood that they were special. That they were not understood. It coiled inside them, made them bitter. Her bitterness was used as a weapon, to dismiss her words, and made her withdrawn. They wanted, more than anything, an escape to something more meaningful. Something more. 

Perhaps their powers gave them what they thought they wanted. Perhaps that was simply when their luck ran out. Or perhaps what came next was still better than what waited for them in the Skylands. Regardless, that is when David came.

He did not understand all of it, but he understood a piece of it. 'You're special.' He said to them. 'You have a power that no one understands.' He told them. 'Do you understand what this means? You are a superior breed. You belong to another world.'

'I can show you. If you follow me.'

He appealed to the angry, bitter part of them that wanted to stand apart, that wanted to stand above. So they took his hand and followed him, of their own will, through a shimmering hole in the air.

__________

There is a secret world, hidden behind this one. Maintained with wards, willful ignorance and plain, non-magical bribes and mortal corruption. Castles hidden in folds of space, behind secret keys full of wizards and their servants. Full of mythical creatures penned into cages and dismantled for parts.

This was the world David drew Ash into, and once locked there he did not them leave. For they were one of his apprentices, and David allowed his apprentices no more freedom than his dogs, until such a time as he deigned them ready. 

One of the few courtesies that extended Ash was the choice of their own name. From that moment onward, they were known as Edict.

__________

There were three other apprentices in David's care. Leta. A scared young woman who feared being culled as the weakest. And Mal, the strongest of them all, with a born cruelty, who reveled in the monsters that David shaped them into, his inner aggression matched by fang, tooth and claw. And last, Murk, who they knew the least, who kept to his own and revealed nothing of himself.

Edict grew up with them. In some ways, they were a fragile, dysfunctional family, sharing in the training and horrors that David set upon them, haunted by the knowledge that one day they would be expected to kill each other to earn both David's mark of esteem and their own freedom.

Leta feared going against him, and so kept her head down and did her best to obey, to be the best apprentice she could be. Mal relished the thought of their death at his hands and reminded every opportunity he had. Even Edict didn't trust their odds fell into the habit of obedience. Magic or not, it seemed to them that there was no fate left to them where they did not belong to David.

In his name, they did horrible things. In this world, in others. To humans and non-humans. 

_________

They were almost seventeen. The day that the apprentices knew was the traditional day where they were meant to face each other came nearer. Edict couldn't take it anymore; they mustered their courage and left.

Mal hunted them in the form of vicious birds and beasts, while Edict fled with no weapon. The odds, it seemed, were against them. On the verge of death, Edict plucked at fate and attacked their own, twisting it, casting themselves adrift, away from the world that David's stronghold was. Frantically, they moved from Netherworld to Netherworld through gates that connected them together. Through their magic, Edict could always see their fellow apprentices, see David coming, but no matter what they did they were always three steps behind, and getting closer.

Years Edict spent on the run, before throwing themselves at the mercy of a world that had kept the forces of Una and the teeming masses of the Netherworld at bay. The world that called itself 'Earth-Prime.' They begged protection from David. Some reared back, either unwilling to involve themselves in what they imagined to be Edict's retribution or imagining the plea to be part of some devious trap. Some came to Edict's aid. Not, Edict thought, nearly enough. 

But David never came. His castle stood empty. His pets abandoned in their pens. All that was left of his books were ashes. And no matter how they tried to look, they could not discover where he had gone to.

_________

Taking the name 'Ash,' Edict started anew. At least as much as they could. The stigma of what they'd done, eased somewhat by the circumstances under which they had been forced to do it, remained, and became a barrier. No one would take them on as an apprentice or allow them closer to their books, and so Edict was forced to uncover things on their own. A mage for hire, Edict could find anything in a city on a whim and a guess, and their mere presence was a good luck charm with the money. They went from David's unwilling pawns to hired muscle. Guarding the back against creeping vampires and watching over kids in training try to call up demons in case something went wrong, Ash couldn't help but feel discontented.

At long last, from from David and everything else, Ash truly began to understand parts of themselves that had been dismissed. They could not help but to wonder how many kids were out there. Kids who got restless under the full moon. Who couldn't shut the voices out by clapping hands over their ears. Who felt things no one could explain . . .

And how many Davids were out there, holding out a hand, saying "I can show you. If you follow me?" They owed it to those kids to try to find a way to stop it. To be there for them before a David could find them. They laid out a spell over the map of probabilities casting wide, hoping for a direction. It didn't tell them 'how,' or 'when,' or even 'why,' but it told them 'where.'

Freedom.

With luck, they think, maybe they'll be able to remake themselves. Maybe they'll be able to reforge their fate. Maybe, in Freedom, they'll find their second chance.

Personality & Motivation:

Grim. Sober. Unfun. These are words that people often use to describe Ash, but they are not always fair. Despite understanding our language, there remains a great deal that Ash understands only vaguely about Prime society. Though in a better position now than they once were, much of what happen on Prime still makes little sense to them, and when they do not understand a thing they fall back into stoney, awkward silence.

At the heart of it, Edict is wounded. They see themselves as a selfish creature, trying to create a little bubble of stability where it's a little safer for people to go. In time, Edict hopes to be able to establish themselves in Freedom. Create a place where young minds touched by magic can come and seek shelter. Eventually, reaching out to the Netherworld to bring more kids who need help—like Edict did—out of Una's influence and away from predatory monsters like David. And they'll do what they can to take steps toward making that a reality.

Some would argue that alone is enough to name Edict a 'hero.' They would disagree.

Powers & Tactics:

While it's easy enough to dismiss Edict as a brute who runs up to anything in their way and smashes them with their bat, that isn't strictly true. As a fate mage, they have few avenues for direct attack. The methods Edict has available to them to engage with others physically are, quite simply, cheating by using magic outside their own specialty through ritual and artifact. As an ally, Edict is more valuable for their supportive abilities. With an incredibly potent scrying ability that, mixed with their magical ability to guess exactly where they need to look, Edict is an excellent person to have around if you want to know where to go. And when you get there, their unique ability to twist and subvert fate can help turn any conflict around.

But from the outside? Edict simply always seems to know where to go, and when they get there, they hit someone with a bat until the problem goes away.

Power Descriptions:
 

To one who cannot perceive magic, Ash's powers are more notable for how they influence the world than how they appear, because the work of fate magic is invisible and terribly subtle. Attacks, on their own, never quite seem to touch Ash. Bullets whiz around them, not as though they were thrown off course or blocked by a shield, but because against probability all of them just so happened to miss. A small spot remains untouched in a furious firestorm, not because anything kept it away, but because the flames just so happened to leave that spot of ground untouched.

Coincidences like this happen all the time around Ash, over and over. The fabric of the universe seems to refuse them harm. Their bat glows with strange runes when it hits someone and in the rare event ash is hit, their cloak seemed to absorb far more damage than it really ought, but that seems to be the only thing that seems explicitly supernatural.  

Someone who can perceive magic can feel what's really going on, though. Golden threads spin out from Mal's heart in countless multitudes, attaching themselves to everything. A constant flow of fate magic nudges, suggests, coerces reality to take a shape that will do no harm to Ash. 

Complications:

Defector - Edict's fellow apprentices are still out there, somewhere. While Edict escaped the cycle David started them on, the others have not. They're involved deeply, and willingly, in the magical underworld. It's only a matter of time before Edict meets them again.

Dark Apprentice - The time Edict spent serving as David's apprentice is not so easily cast aside. Their change of heart is often questioned, and some even suspect that their presence serves one of David's gambits. Perhaps they are, and simply unaware of it. Give a hero point whenever the doubt and cynicism of the magical community stand in the way of Edict's goals.

Netherworlder - As a netherworlder, Edict's legal existence in Earth Prime is somewhat tenuous. While recognized by the magical communities of earth, non-magical governments and authorities who are not 'in the know' get suspicious, forcing Edict to rely mainly on magical communities. When their status as a Netherworlder cuts Edict off from support or aid, the GM may award Edict a hero point.  

For Me It Was Tuesday - Edict and their fellow apprentices did many terrible things to many people. There are many who would do anything to get even. 

Secret? What Secret? - Ash's identity as Edict is on the public record. Any enemies they have can simply look up who they are and they'll find out, immediately.

Say what? -  Edict's cloak is the only reason that they can understand Earth-prime languages. Without it they speak no language known on earth. This makes being separated from their cloak or being in any kind of magic-suppressing field especially confusing for both Edict and their allies.

Abilities: 2 + 2 + 4 + 8 + 10 + 0 = 26PP
Strength: 12 (+1)
Dexterity: 12 (+1)
Constitution: 14 (+2)
Intelligence: 18 (+4)
Wisdom: 20 (+5)
Charisma: 10 (+0)

Combat: 8  + 10  = 18PP
Initiative: +1
Attack: +4 Base, +10 Bat
Defense: +13 (+5 Base, +2 Enhanced Defense, +6 Dodge Focus), +2/3 Flat-Footed

Grapple: +5
Knockback: -1/4

Saving Throws: 5  + 3  + 4 = 12PP
Toughness: +7 (+1 Con, +6  Protection)
Fortitude: +6 (+1 Con, +5)
Reflex: +8 (+1 Dex, +4 Enhanced Reflex, +3)
Will: +8 (+4 Wis, +4)

Skills: 8R = 3PP

Intimidation 8 (+8)

Knowledge (Arcane Lore) 2 (+6)

Concentration 2 (+7)

Stealth 0 [+12 Distorted Odds] (+13)

Gather Information 0 [+8 Distorted Odds] (+8)

Search 0 [+8 Distorted Odds] (+12)

Notice 0 [+8 Distorted Odds] (+13)

Feats: 4PP

Ritualist

Attack Specialization (Bat) 3

Equipment: 0PP = 0EP

Powers: 1 + 35 + 9 + 15 + 15 + 12 = 87PP

Features 1 (Temporal Inertia) [1PP] (Netherworld Native)

Super Senses 9 (Fate Awareness [Mental], Mental Sense [Accurate, Acute, Danger Sense, Extended, Radius, Ranged], Uncanny Dodge [Mental] ) 9PP (Fate Reading)

Drawbacks: (-0) + (-0) = -0PP

DC Block

ATTACK              RANGE      SAVE                           EFFECT
Unarmed             Touch      DC 16 Toughness                Damage

Runic Slam          Touch      DC 25 Toughness                Damage

Runic Smash         Touch      DC 19 Fortitude                Daze/Stun/Unconscious

Totals: Abilities (26) + Combat (18) + Saving Throws (12) + Skills (3) + Feats (4) + Powers (87) - Drawbacks (0) = 150/150 Power Points

"I'll take you up on that," Kat gave Mali a lazy thumbs up as she hefted a big, unhealthy greaseburger in her other hand. "But not today." She took another big, hungry chomp. "S' good." 

"It's weird, right?" She pecked at her waffle fries and curled her toes at the taste. "Like stepping into a different world. Hard to believe, sometimes, that this is even Prime." Sigh. "When did you decide to do the superhero thing? I mean, lot of metahumans did it after coming to Claremont, but I think most people there who don't have some kind of powers were . . . ?" She let the question hang in the air, unfinished.

Kat blinked, put a hand on her chin and stared at Grim-Warp. She put her hands on her hips and harrumphed. "That's just straight up bad." She admonished. "Being that cute ought to be a crime." Grinned.

Part of Warp wasn't sure how to take the extent of Grim's powers. Just . . . Making it out of nowhere? "That seems like it'd really come in handy," Warp said. She wondered how strong it was? Would it hold out against her bolts, or was it just normal ice . . . ? That's rude, Kat. Don't do that. "Never seen any creation stuff be that flexible. Normally it's all 'I'm a rock controller and I make rock towers!' But this feels different."

"I am not in the mood to school you all today," Warp announced, sauntering off toward Sakurako's tent. She peered inside, getting a good luck at the interior, before papping lightly on the 'door.' A flash of black-red and she was inside.

Kat stared, expressionless, for a long moment. She rested the palm of her hand on the side of her face, covering up one eye, and sighed. "Freedom." She'd been here for a quarter of her life, by now. She couldn't imagine leaving, not yet. But while the city had stopped surprisingly her long ago, the city continued to offer Kat no end of exasperation. 

A flash of red, a sharp pained sound and Warp was up on the battlements, peering around. Then, the other one. Inside the castle peering at the detail work. She took her time to admire it.

After about thirty seconds she warped back outside, appearing just a foot off the ground and falling very nearly into the same holes her boots had left in the snow before. "That's real cool, but how'd you know to stow away an ice castle? That's awfully specific."

Tyrant Heart

Quote

 

There's no reason to be so nervous, Katharine.”

 

While, on some level, Kat recognized she was in the best hands Claremont could provide—and therefore the best hands this world had to offer—the rest of her was too aware of the white walls, the stark, sterile smell and the hospital gown that clapped awkwardly short at her sides. Instead, she twined her ankles together, looked away from the doctor and said “'Kay.”

 

There was no way he didn't sense her discomfort, but he didn't say another thing about it.

 

“You've been very cooperative,” Dr. Stone said. Kat did not know his full name. His back was turned to her as he rustled through cabinets, looking for . . . something. Her shoulders were broad, his stance tall,and his hair curled into tight dreadlocks that full behind his back. “We're almost done. We just need to nail down all the specifics and make sure we don't miss anything. I'll need to take your t-levels, again, see if it's still within parameters. But that's the last of the tests we'll need to run before I can clear you.”

 

He turned around, his broad face curled up into a gently smile. “Now, I know you've been worried about this, so I want to make this clear, by my judgment, I think you're fine to operate without any power inhibitors or special monitoring equipment. Your powers are pretty potent, but they're no more difficult to control than most metahumans who come in here, as far as I'm concerned.

 

Kat wrapped her arms around herself and breathed out in relief. “I'm so glad,” she said.

 

“Now,” Dr. Stone said, and there was some reproach in his voice. “I want you to know that limiters and controllers are not marks of shame. Metahumans like yourself have very specific needs,” he laid his hands on the table in the center of the room and leaned forward, toward Kat. “You don't need one, and I don't think you ever will, but powers change. You may need one later. As a metahuman, you need to come to terms with this.”

 

Kat winced. In her mind, she imagined collars, she imagined chains, she imagined bonds. What she said instead was, “yes sir, I understand.”

 

“Now,” he said. “While we still need to do some lost tests as a formality, we know just about everything we can know about your natural abilities already. Before we move forward, I need to give you a full briefing.”

 

Kat blinked. Reached up and scratched the back of her head. “I mean . . . What's there to know? I can warp around and shoot things. Right?”

 

Dr. Stone was already moving, though. He tap-tapped on the corners of his table. Kat heard the sound of computerized clicking and then suddenly the table split in two. Kat started, uncomprehending, at the strange contraption in the table before it sputtered to life, flashing test colors in the air above it as Kat finally recognized it for what it was.

 

The hologram projector showed a diagram of—Kat tried to figure out what she found so familiar until she realized it was her—a in a green wireframe. Text scrolled more quickly than Kat could follow along the right. “There's actually quite a lot to know,” Dr. Stone said. “Some of this, you're already aware of, but I'll take it from the top to make sure you get the full picture now.”

 

“People without metahuman powers, we call 'baseline.'” Dr. Stone poked at the scrolling text. It stopped where he touched it, changed, expanded. The spread-eagle Kat switched to a standing position and turned so Kat could see it in profile. “Rather than having traits passed on through genetics, your metahuman abilities were given to you by altering your body through an external source. This is what makes you . . .”

 

“. . . A mutant,” Kat finished, hand clutching at her wrsit. “From the Terminus.”

 

Dr. Stone shrugged. “There are many different sources of power that can cause mutations.” He said. “And the Terminus did certainly cause yours yes.”

 

“I knew this already.” Kat said. She hadn't realized how impatient she was with this place. He just needed to do one last test. Why show her this? Why go into this? Why—

 

“Many mutations cause drastic changes to the physical body of a metahuman which contribute to metahuman abilities.” Stone said. “Others incorporate themselves subtly into the existing systems of the body, and are harder to nail down.

 

Kat rolled her eyes. She couldn't help it. Dr. Stone was probably required to read all this to her but that didn't make it any less—

 

“You, for instance, are in the first category.”

 

He fiddled more with the hologram, pressing buttons, sliding blocks. The image of Kat's body faded out of sight.

 

“Wait, hang on.” Kat waved her hands in front of her, then pressed them against her abdomen. “I'm not . . . Like, you can't tell.” She said, and all she could imagine were metahumans with crystal skin, or made perpetually out of rock, or with hair made of actual fire.

 

Dr. Stone waited, giving her a chance to articulate her confusion. Instead, she let her hands drop and stared, baffled.

 

“You're right,” he said. “Initially, we assumed you to be part of the second category as well. But our tests gave us conflicting answers, which is why we had to hold you here for so long. Your drastic mutations are internal, rather than external.” Tap. “In particular . . . Your heart.”

 

The image that flashed up in the empty space where Kat's body used to be looked like a heart. But certainly not a human heart. Its outside looked scaly, sharp, and with every beat there was a faint that pulsed bright. Kat held her hand over her heart. Felt the quickening rhythm of her pulse.

 

Her heart. Whiteness clawed at the edge of Kat's vision.

 

“Hello? Kat?” She shook her head and looked at Dr. Stone. “Did you hear what I said?”

 

“I . . .” Kat looked at what her heart was supposed to be. Shook her head roughly and turned to look at Dr. Stone. “I don't think so, actually.”

 

“Your metahuman powers actually require an incredible amount of raw entropic energy, physically speaking. Tearing space is not trivial work, so that energy needs to be produced somewhere. That place is here.” He gestured toward the hologram. Diagrams began to open. Kat recognized one noting her ongoing t-levels in a graph. Other factors she didn't understand were laid out in small, fast-moving script. “Your heart provides that. Really, as far as you're concerned, your heart serves as two purposes. In addition to maintaining bloodflow, your heart circulates entropic energy throughout your body for you to use whenever you use your abilities.”

 

 

“Your powers seem stable. Safe.” He held up a finger. “There's just one thing I should mention . . .”

 

“A lot of the raw energy for your power comes from your body. Your vitality. The food you eat. But there's more than we can account for after times when your power sees heavy use. When you warp, tear open a portal, or disintegrate something, your heart seems to convert some small part of what you destroy into its own entropic energy. Day to day, this doesn't mean much to you.

 

" . . .But be sure to find someone who can help if your powers begin to act erratically. If your numbers keep going up I don't know what will happen.

"I . . . Like black and red?" Kat plucked at her vest and grimaced. Of course you do, that's why you're wearing it. EARTH TO KAT.  

"Try not to feel too bad," she said, nominally to Kwame, but mostly to herself. "She's a supergenius. Endeavor could think circles around all of us on our best day. Just gotta take your pleasures where you can." Kat looked over her shoulder above Sakurako's head. The corner of her mouth twitched upward.

She shook her head, firmly to herself. No. Kat tried to find a different track of thought and found one.

"Yeah, that happens sometimes." Kat said to Kwame, giving good shrug. "A bunch of guys with harpoon guns attacked the aquarium once, when I was just getting started a couple years ago. That's just Freedom for you. Guns are the least bizarre thing a hero is going to get pointed at them."

Kat honestly had not considered that superpowers might have had something to do with this without malice, but it was possible.

I mean, if she was strict about all this, someone using powers to do what was happening in the street was probably illegal, somehow. For traffic obstruction, and whatever mental manipulation was called in court. But Kat supposed it was possible that maybe someone was just feeding on the happiness because they were . . . Hungry? Or some superhero was pumping up the holiday cheer because they liked the season? Kat crossed her arms and hrmphed. "I still don't think this part just . . . Happened. But you could be right," she admitted, reluctantly. "It could be harmless."

People had more ridiculous motives to use their powers than 'the spirit of Christmas,' anyway. This was Freedom. 

Sixteen? Was this another Claremont kid? Kat had barely known Sakurako a semester as Kat's underclassman before graduating. Any newer kids and, well, Kat would have never met them. He sounded like he would have squeaked, but Kat had honestly written that off as the way he sounded. He really had been trying to growl his voice? She couldn't help but smirk. "Twenty," she allowed, though part of her asked why anyone needed to know. Kwame seemed . . . Unimpressed by their ages.

Tough luck, guy.

It felt awkward to go after eggnog after literally disintegrating the last one she touched. Instead she wandered off, toward the new arrival. "I don't suppose you can tell if there's anything sinister behind this . . ." She made a circular gesture with her right hand. ". . . Thing." Kat was beginning to give up hope that she would ever know for sure.

Kat shook her head. "No, not a speedster. It's a little complicated, but it's simplest to say I'm a teleporter, and—"

WHUMP

Sakurako skidded over the snow toward them after her landing, kicking up some of the White Christmas back into the hair. A chunk of it landed on top of Warp's head. She stopped talking, closed her eyes and took a deep, long-suffering breath. "This is it." The snow slowly slid out off her head and fell in a lump on her shoulder.  "This is my life, now."

Eyes still closed, she pointed her finger back toward where she'd heard the familiar noise. "This is Endeavor. And I've never actually heard of eggnog not being alcoholic. And you," she said, turning her head toward her old Claremont underclassman. "Are definitely not old enough."

If Kat had a tail, would be lashing. Her eyes anxiously scanned over the crowd one last time, waiting for some greater, sinister force to reveal itself. But . . . Kwane's appeal to her ego disarmed her, whereas the big stone brute's overbearing insistence had felt like an insult.

Besides, Kwame hadn't tried to force a drink Kat hadn't seen prepared down her throat where she didn't know anyone.  

"Yeah." Kat grimace, putting on hand on her hip. "I see your point. This is odd, but I can't tell what caused it. But, if it reveals itself . . . there are lots of heroes here." She held out a hand toward Kwame. "Warp. It's a pleasure."

"Right?" Kat relaxed back into her seat. "It's so much easier when you can open an article on your phone, show it to teach and say 'that was me, can I get an extension?'" opened her little baggy and pulled a burger out. She took a huge bite and savored the tasted in her mouth. It reminded her . . . Mali had to worry about eating too much. The baseline body seemed like such a trouble to hold in real fighting shape. But, on the other hand . . . "I don't know how I would have survived without Claremont, honestly. When I first started really using my powers, I started getting so thin, you could see my ribs . . ." Kat pulled her jacket back to expose her midsection. ". . . I was just straight up underfed. Almost fainted in class once, and got chewed out. 'Where do you think all that power's coming from? You need to eat!'" Kat grinned at her own foolishness. "They're probably a huge reasons a lot of us made it through high school at all . . . Now we gotta deal without."

The mood on Kat's part was getting downright hostile, but before Gargoyle could react to it Kat's ears caught an exclamation and her head swung to the side.  Kwame  was standing right there, look of open admiration on his face. Warp preened, reached behind her and brushed hair to fall more dramatically over her shoulder. "Thank you," she said, and the smile came easy. "Have you noticed anything strange about all this?" Warp made a broad, inclusive gesture. "Like, everyone just decides to have a party? Out of nowhere? And the cops join in? Being a wet blanket is their job."

Mouth forming a hard, irritated line, Warp grabbed the cup of eggnog out of the world-be hero's hand. Instead of drink it, she held it up, clear for him to see, between her hands. She didn't need to marshal her irritation at all; it was already there. Dark lines of power, arced up and down her arm like light-eating electricity. The cup—eggnog and all—disintegrated in her hand as it closed into a fist.

"Learn to take a no." She deliberately enunciated each word. "You creep."

UNSHROUDED BY TIFF

I noticed, in retrospective, that one of the powers that Warp has just plain shouldn't work. Her 'Entropic Shroud' effect, the Drain Toughness aura, doesn't have any duration mods on it. So it really shouldn't work at all, and I don't think I can make it work without buffing her Terminus array, which I don't want to do yet. So I'd like to have the power just straight up removed from her array.

Kat put her hands on her hips and stared, narrow-eyed, into the crowd. "I don't trust it."

"And I don't know about you," she said, raising a brow. "But getting me drinking is just a terrible idea." Someone started up a cheery rendition of 'Jingle Bells' in the background. "Also, not old enough. So there."

Reflexively Kat was reminded of a villain she'd heard of through the grapevine in Claremont who could l switch places with someone by looking into their eyes, but before she could even think of articulating it off Spencer went, flouncing on to her GENIE ENGINE, or whatever. I mean, her machine seemed safe enough! But there was the principle of the thing! 

It would have taken someone truly daft to miss the little pool of empty space that gathered around Ms. Airships, but while Kat made wariness her habit, she was actually relatively confident she could handle anything that went south. She took a step in toward her unwilling partner and leaned in sideways toward the stranger. "I don't know about you," she said in her best stage whisper. "But I'm feeling kind of like I'm being picked on right now."

"Uh." Kat took one look at the literal, actual gargoyle that was asking her to dance. It took some doing, because she had to crane her neck to look that far up. He looked incredibly impressive. He sounded like a kid trying to imitate his Dad on the phone. "Seriously?"

She stepped back shut her eyes tight and flapped her hands a bit before forcing her breath to calm and letting her hands settle in front of her. "I cannot be the only person who thinks this is really super off." Behind her, a pain of children ran in circles, laughing and pelting each other with snowballs before running off in another direction. 

"There's probably some Psychic vampire trying to gather power to down the world in a hundred years of darkness or, or . . ." She made a frustrated sound and turned around, peering in every direction and seeing festive cheer and joy in every direction. "Or something!"

Beat.

"I'm not a grinch!" She said, in response to no one. "This is weird!"

"What."

Kat's boots crunched against white snow as she walked over the flat rooftops of one of the surrounding stores. She propped her foot on the roof's lip and peered over the edge. She made a broad, confused circle with both her hands that ended with both palms toward the sky.

Usually in freedom a police radio frequency yelling about blocked roads meant that someone had started throwing fireballs in the middle of the street or at least that somebody had crashed. Kat knew how to deal with those things. This . . . ? was just a block party. Kat said, rubbed her thumbs against her temple. This wasn't really normal, right? She'd spent half a decade in Freedom. She could tell what was normal here from what wasn't. Right? 

The soft sound of Christmas music wafted up to her as her face went from baffled to exasperated to resigned. "What . . . ? Oh come on. It's like an old Christmas movie!" She shook her head and hissed through her teeth. Maybe if she got closer she would understand. 

With a flash of sickly-red light Warp moved through her slip down from the rooftops to the street. 

HellQ

Quote

Who are you? Sum yourself up in one sentence.

 

“I'm Katharine Lilly Shade, metahuman, college student, aspiring hero, and I want to go back to bed.”

 

Do you have any nicknames, street names, titles, or nom de plume?

 

“Friends call me Kat. Everyone back home calls me Lilly. People who don't know me call me Katharine.”

 

What is your full birth name?

 

Katharine Lilly Shade.

 

Where do you live?

 

Freedom City.

 

How old are you? What year were you born (if applicable)?

 

Twenty. I was born in 1997.

 

Physical Traits

 

 

What is your gender? If not applicable, please explain.

 

I'm a girl.

 

How would you describe your heritage?

 

It's difficult to say in detail, I guess? A couple generations back, my family came over from Europe and didn't keep ties real well. Apparently there's a lot of Irish in there, but it's not really something I've thought about much?

 

How tall are you?

 

Five-four. So, pretty short.

 

What is your body type?

I have what people like to call a gymnast's build, I think? I'm small, without much development in any direction people like to call 'feminine.' If I wasn't as fit as I was, I think scrawny would be a good word. But I am, so I'm not sure what the word would be.

 

Do you have any particular weaknesses, such as allergies or physical disabilities?

 

“Nothing like that . . . Unless you count daka crystals, I guess. I'm not sure what's up with them, something to do with my being linked with the Terminus, I think. Holding them can give me a rash, sometimes. Worst was when someone had a knife made out of the stuff . . .”

 

How do you carry yourself? Are you graceful, or heavy on your feet? Can you be stealthy, do you walk with confidence?

 

“I'm pretty understated most of the time, nowadays. I'd like to say I can be pretty graceful, though. I haven't spent as much time as I have freerunning for nothing.”

 

Describe your skin, eye, and hair color.

 

My skin is fair and freckled. My hair is red. My eyes are . . . Also red, now. Actually. Which is of some concern.

 

How do you wear your hair, if applicable? Do you have facial hair?

 

I like it in a ponytail, it's more convenient like that. But it looks more cool when I wear it free, though . . . So really it's just a matter of timing, I suppose.

 

Do you consider yourself attractive? Do others?

 

“Nah . . . Though I suppose I did have a few stalkers, when I was trying with the acting troupe. That was . . . Actually rather unsettling. So I suppose there must be something about me that appeals?

 

“Eh. They were creeps. Who cares.”

 

Do you have any scars, tattoos, piercings, or birthmarks?

 

“Nope.”

 

Do you resemble anyone famous?

 

“Nah.”

 

Do you have a dominant hand?

 

“The right.”

 

What kind of clothing do you wear?

 

“Leggings are, let's be clear, a gift from on high. They are super comfortable, and I will wear them whenever the weather is cold enough. Don't care as much about the tops; I wear what I can find that fits. I have some FCU shirts they were giving away for free I put on sometimes, blouses and tees . . . I like to pair them with a vest or jacket or something.”

 

Do you wear makeup?

 

“Not much.”

 

What is your vocal range? Is your voice distinctive in some way?

 

“Pretty midrange for my gender, I'd say. Maybe slightly higher?”

 

Do you have any distinctive habits, nervous tics, or mannerisms? Where did they come from, and what causes them? Do other people notice and remark on these habits? Do they annoy you or other people?

 

“I chew on my lips and fingers sometimes, when I'm nervous. And talk to myself a bit. But I don't think those are too terrible.”

 

History

 

Where do you come from?

 

“Normal, Illinois.”

 

Have you made any major moves, or do you live in your hometown?

 

“I moved to Freedom when they discovered I was a metahuman. That's it.”

 

Do you feel loyal to your country of citizenship? Do you consider yourself patriotic? How do you feel about the government of your country?

 

“It's got its problems, is all I'll say.”

 

How do you feel about the place you come from?

 

“Feels way too small now.”

 

Where is your home town? What was/is it like?

 

“In the midwest. It's pretty nor . . . Well, I mean, the bunch of white people who set up their houses and lived there would probably call it normal.”

 

Growing up, were most of the people you knew similar to you, or were you somehow a minority? How did that affect you?

 

I mean, I was always a metahuman, but it hadn't really asserted itself? So I guess I was just another of the flock until I ended up in a dumpster one day.

 

Is there something you've always been really good at or really bad at? How has that affected your life?

 

“I mean, I was . . . am pretty good at acting? My performance got pretty bad when I fell into my spiral after my powers misfired, and I was worried people would start to notice my red eyes, so I backed out of that. Not . . . Not sure that was the right choice, but it feels like I've kind of locked into it now. I have some regrets.”

 

Were there any traumatic experiences in your early years (death of a family member, abandonment, orphaned at an early age)?

 

“I woke up in a dumpster once, after going to sleep in my cushy bed. That count?”

 

Briefly describe a defining moment in your childhood and how it influenced your life.

 

“Hm. Day of Wrath, maybe?

 

“Yeah.

 

“I was just getting into the hero thing for the first time, and it was turning out pretty okay. Thwarted some small-time villains, teamed up with some other kid heroes at Claremont. All good, right? Then the day of Wrath happened. I fought in it, a bit. Claremont got attacked real bad. People died, or seemed to die? It was . . . Bad. Just bad.

 

“Thought I could power through it though. That's what heroes do, right? Power through it, and then it gets better. Except . . . It didn't. What Claremont told me later is that, my powers, they . . . react to negative feelings? And I had a lot of them. Caged up real tight. And one day it got to the point where when I tried to use my powers I . . .

 

“It almost killed me, and it did crack the asphalt across the street, and damage a storefront. No one got hurt, but it was a pretty near thing and I . . . Retired. For forever, I thought.”

 

What stupid things did you do when you were younger?

 

“I flushed Lyle's goldfish down a drain once.”

 

Where did you go to school? How much school did you have, and did you enjoy it?

 

“I completed high school at Claremont. It was a blast at first, but after . . . Well, then it got depressing.

 

“I'm still at Uni now.”

 

Do you have any mementos of your childhood? What are they, and why did you keep them? If you have none, why not?

 

“Not . . . particularly? I left a lot of my stuff behind at home when I left for Claremont. Nothing dramatic, just not a lot of room to pack, and I didn't know how to use my Pocket yet.”

 

When did you decide to become a hero? Why? Did anyone influence you one way or another in the decision?

 

“It was coming to Freedom that did it. Living around all these heroes . . . It becomes hard not to want it, after a while.”

 

Is the reason you give people for becoming a hero different than your real reason? If so, why?

 

“I wanted people to like me.”

 

Do you have any deep, dark secrets in the past that may come back to haunt you?

 

“Oh everybody knows I almost blew up a street, that's already out there. No point hiding it.”

 

Do you represent yourself as being different from who you really are? Why?

 

“I mean . . . Like, listen. I know I'm a bit of a downer sometimes, but, there's a reason I'm still coming out here and doing the hero thing.

 

“I'm not sure if it's hope, or spite or what . . . But I want to believe there's still a way someone like me can be a hero. I want to believe anyone can, if they just try.”

 

If you do have these secrets, what do you fear would happen if the truth became known? How far would you go to protect those secrets?

 

“ . . . ?”

 

Do you have any sort of criminal record? If so, is it public knowledge?

 

“No. I mean I might have gotten destruction of property but Freedom is pretty lenient with heroes in this, and I was trying to catch a villain.”

 

Family

 

 

What are your biological parents' names?

 

“Rose Shade is my mom. Alexander Shade is my dad.”

 

Were you raised by them? If not, please explain and describe who raised you.

 

“Yes.”

 

What was their standing in the community? What did/do they do for a living?

 

“Pretty well-off, but not exceptionally important. Mom sells insurance, and Dad teaches martial arts.”

 

Where are your parents now?

 

“Normal, still.”

 

Did your family stay in one area or move around a lot?

 

“Oh they were born there and will probably die there.”

 

How did you get along with their parents? How do you get along with them now (if applicable).

 

“Well enough. They help pay for Uni, but we don't have much to talk about anymore.”

 

How do your parents view you now, or how would they?

 

“Sometimes, they'll take me aside, and start to say how worried they are, and how they think Freedom has 'changed' me. They were happy when I told them I wanted to retire from hero work, actually. It was Mom that said, 'oh thank God.' They were ready to support me, I think, but they hated what I did.

 

“They wouldn't like that I've been doing it again.”

 

Do you have any siblings? If so how many and what are their names? Describe your relationship with them.

 

“Lyle, my bratty little brother.”

 

What was your birth order in the family?

 

“First.”

 

Where are your siblings now (if applicable)? Do they have families of their own? What do they do?

 

“Lyle. High school.”

 

Do you stay in touch with them or have you become estranged?

 

“I mean, we talk at Christmas and Thanksgiving.”

 

Do you love or hate one member of the family in particular?

 

“Nah.”

 

Is any member of the family special to you in any way (perhaps, as a confidant, mentor, or arch-rival)?

 

“Nope.”

 

Are there any black (or white) sheep in the family (including you)? If so, please explain.

 

“I'm a metahuman, and I stayed out of town. So that would be me.”

 

Do you have a notorious or celebrated ancestor? If so, please explain, including how it has affected your life.

 

“Nah.”

 

Do you have a partner and children currently? If so, please describe them.

 

“No.”

 

If you do not have a partner or children, do you want them someday? How firm are you in your opinion on this, and what might change your mind?

 

“I can barely imagine a future a year from now. That's too far.”

 

What type of person would be your ideal mate?

 

“. . . Listen, I don't know. Someone who could put up with me and wants to watch movies while cuddling?

 

“I don't know.”

 

Relationships

 

Do you have any close friends? If so, please describe them, and how you came to be close to them.

 

“I . . . Hm.

 

“No. Actually. I don't think I have close friends. Wow, that's sad.

 

"It's not fair to say I have NO friends. Some people from Claremont, I've kept into contact with. Giang in particular, and I've come to know Mali a little better. But I don't know if I'd call what we have close."

 

Do you have a best friend? If so, how did they become your best friend? How close are you to your best friend?

 

“Sad-ass no-friend Kat here to say your question does not apply.”

 

If you were to go missing, who would worry about you?

 

“Family, probably.”

 

Have you lost any loves? If so, how did it happen, and what did you do?

 

“There was another student at Claremont I had a crush on? But he was already dating someone. So that was the end of it.”

 

Do you have any bitter enemies? If so, please describe them and their history with you.

 

“Nope.”

 

If you have enemies, how do you think they might attempt to work against you in the future?

 

“Nah.”

 

What is the worst thing someone has done to you?

 

“Tried to kill me, probably, but that wasn't personal.”

 

Where do your loyalties lie? In what order?

 

“Friends. Me. Freedom. Yes in that order.”

 

Who or what do you trust the most? Why?

 

“. . . God, I can't even say family, can I? They don't know I put on the cloak again.”

 

Who or what do you despise? Why?

 

“God I wish I had friends, again. I should have trusted them more. I should have let them in. Then maybe I could have stoped my spiral before it started.”

 

What qualities do you admire most in other people? Are these qualities you possess?

 

“Openness. Earnestness. Hope.

 

“I'd like to think I could possess them.”

 

What qualities do you hate most in other people? Do you have any of those qualities?

 

“Hate, that's a big one. Sadism. Complicated bit about that is . . . Well, if I want to use my powers, it's not like . . . 'I want to protect my friends' or 'I want to live.' I mean, those are all true, but my powers don't care about that. They won't respond. So, at Claremont.

 

It's just desires to hurt that it'll respond to. 'I want to destroy that.' 'I want to see her hurt.' Stuff that like. Which is . . . SO messed up. It bothers me so much that I need to do this.

 

Do you have a secret identity? If so, who knows it? Do you hide it from people who are close to you? Why?

 

“I do. My family knows about my super identity, but they don't pay attention to freedom, so they haven't got news that I'm out of retirement yet.

 

(Something to look forward too, I guess)

 

“At Uni, people don't really know I'm a hero either, and I'm fine with that. I'd rather just fly under the radar.”

 

Do you work well on teams and in groups? Are you a leader or a follower?

 

“I remember working pretty well with groups. I'd honestly prefer to fall behind, nowadays. I'd be worried about leading everyone into trouble by accident.”

 

Are you on a super team? If so, how do you get along with your comrades? Do you trust them, or do you have secrets from them?

 

“Not yet. That'd be . . . Well that'd be nice, though? I don't know that I'd keep much from them. Back in Claremont, everyone knew each other's normal identity. That would just feel, natural, I think?”

 

Are you a member of any church, fraternal organization, club, committee, political party, or other group? How much time do you spend on that?

 

“No.”

 

Personality & Beliefs

 

Who are your heroes?

 

“You should know, in Normal, they didn't actually cover superheroes much. So I'm not super attached to many. But. Um . . .

 

Harrier, I think. Not as, like, an idol, but . . . Harrier.”

 

Did you ever become disillusioned with former heroes or idols? If so, why and what were the circumstances?

 

“Not especially.”

 

Do you like being a hero? If so, what is the most rewarding part? If not, what makes you keep doing it?

 

“Yes. The adulation, honestly. That's still there, honestly, but a big part of it is just, proving that I can.”

 

Is there anything that would make you give up hero work, or even switch sides?

 

“If my powers betrayed me again, and I couldn't find some way to recover . . . that'd be it, wouldn't it?”

 

What are your short term goals (what would you like to be doing within a year)?

 

“I'd like to get my name out there. Establish myself as a hero again. Maybe make it so that the first thing people remember isn't an almost-tragedy four years ago.

 

What are your long term goals (what would you like to be doing twenty years from now)?

 

“I . . . I can't imagine it, actually. I can't really envision much of a future. I'm sorry.”

 

What is your greatest fear? Why? What do you do when something triggers this fear?

 

“I think it's . . . Overloading again, actually. I imagine I'd just stay home a while and call my therapist.”

 

Is there anything you would give you life for?

 

“I'm a hero, so I guess we'll find out eventually. Won't we?”

 

How do you feel about money and material wealth? Do you desire it or disdain it? Are you miserly with what you have, or do you like to share? Is it a mark of success, or a means to an end?

 

“'Money can't buy happiness' is the mantra of someone who's never had to worry about rent, which sums up my feelings on its well enough.”

 

How do you generally treat others?

 

“I try to give people the benefit of the doubt and treat them kindly enough. I'm a bit withdrawn with most people, but that doesn't really have to do with it.”

 

Are you a trusting person? Has your trust ever been abused?

 

“I'm not particularly trusting, no. Not because I've been burned or anything, I think? It's just. Kind of easy to open up.”

 

Are you introverted (shy and withdrawn) or extroverted (outgoing)? Do you have a lot of self-confidence?

 

“I am more withdrawn, I guess. Shy isn't really the term I'd use to describe it, though. Have you ever lived in fear of something so long, you just got so sick of hiding that you just sauntered out because what else can you even do?

 

“I'm confident in what I know I can do. Whether that'll be ENOUGH, is another question. But, you gotta try.”

 

How do you act around attractive, available members of your preferred sex?

 

“. . . ? I mean, last time I had a crush on someone was high school, but it's been forever since I really liked anyone. I don't know the answer. I suppose I'd probably be awkward?”

 

What are your most annoying habits?

 

“I'm a downer a lot of the time. I figure that's probably pretty irritating to people.”

 

Do you feel contempt for any general category of people? Who are they, and why?

 

“Hate groups. Just. Hate groups. Any of them. All of them.”

 

What is your favorite food? Do you prefer any particular type of food? Do you take the time to enjoy your food, or do you eat as fast as you can?

 

“Pizza, and, generally . . . Food is fuel, right? I don't usually savor it much. Wolf it down.”

 

What is your favorite drink (alcoholic or otherwise)?

 

“Grape soda.”

 

What is your favorite treat (dessert)?

 

“Chocolate ice cream, with crunched up bits of chocolate cookies mixed in.”

 

Are there any specific foodstuffs that you find disgusting or refuse to eat?

 

“Pickles.”

 

What is your favorite color? Are there any colors you dislike?

 

“I like red.”

 

What sort of music do you like? Is there any that you hate?

 

“I like lots of instrumental stuff. I don't know that I really dislike much music . . .”

 

If you have a favorite scent, what is it?

 

“Good food.”

 

Do you have a favorite animal?

 

“Cat.”

 

What is your most treasured possession? Why?

 

“. . . ?”

 

Do you enjoy "roughing it", or do you prefer your creature comforts?

 

“Hey, when you are literally a thought from your bed, you'll find the appeal of 'roughing it' fades real fast. I'm all for exercise, but when that's finished, and a nice bed is a thought away, why wouldn't you?”

 

Is there a job or a task you would absolutely refuse to do?

 

“I mean, probably. There's a certain kind of sketchy you just . . . back off from, when you see it. And I kinda need to keep my nose clean.”

 

Do you consider yourself a spiritual person? If so, how do your beliefs affect your life? How important is it to you?

 

“No.”

 

Was your faith influenced or molded by anyone special?

 

“No.”

 

If you belong to a religious organization, how often do you attend? Do you have a specific place of worship, or friends within the organization? How much do you agree with the beliefs of your organization?

 

“No.”

 

Could you kill? Have you killed?

 

“. . . Probably. I don't know. It's not something to take lightly, right? I don't want to try to psyche myself up for killer, even if it turns out . . . You know what I mean? But I'd really, really rather not.

 

“No, I haven't killed anyone.”

 

What circumstances led to you forming that conviction, or taking that action?

 

“I don't want to see anyone get hurt. The Day of Wrath got me thinking about stakes, and . . .

 

Are there circumstances under which you believe it is permissible to kill? What are they?

 

“I don't know . . . I think there might be. But I don't think . . . I don't think I'd trust myself to know them. I'd rather not think about it too much, honestly.”

 

How would you react to watching someone kill another person? Would your reaction be different if the killer was a friend or an enemy of yours?

 

“I'd probably be sick, either way. And . . . Yes. I'd react different. I'm sorry, but that doesn't shame me.”

 

How would you react if something important was stolen from you?

 

“Get it back.”

 

How would you react to public humiliation?

 

“What do you mean 'would?'

 

“Good half-and-half chance I'd deserve it. But if I don't, I think I'd try to clear my name.”

 

How would you react if a good friend or relative were purposely or accidentally killed? Has it happened to you?

 

“. . . Badly.

 

It hasn't happened.”

 

What do you consider to be the worst crime someone could commit and why?

 

“. . . Hard to pick between slavery and murder, I guess. They're all about stealing people's lives from them, in either case. Maybe murder, because anywhere else, you can still get the life back, technically?”

 

If your life were to end in 24 hours, what five things would you do in those remaining hours?

 

“Go somewhere warm with a cup of hot chocolate, I think. Binge something on Netflix.”

 

Career & Training

 

 

Do you have any special training in your hero skills? If so, where and how did you get it?

 

“Yes, Claremont. They picked me up after I teleported into a dumpster in my sleep.”

 

Who taught you the most about your heroing abilities? What was your relationship with that person?

 

“I had a bunch of teachers, I wouldn't pin it down to one particular person.”

 

Do you have any particularly unusual skills? How did you acquire them?

 

“I can act pretty well, and I'm a pretty good freerunner. It used to be a hobby in normal, and now it's how I stay in shape.

 

Do you do something besides hero work for a living? Have you ever done anything else, or do you plan to?

 

“I'm a college student.”

 

What is your preferred combat style?

 

“Up close and personal . . . Or shooting people with bolts. I'm pretty direct, as far as teleporters go.

 

Have you ever received any awards or honours?

 

“Not really.”

 

What skill areas would you like most to improve in? Is there anything you can't do that you wish desperately you could?

 

“Uh, actually, I think I'm fine.”

 

How do you act around people who are more skilled than you in areas you'd like to improve? Are you jealous, or do you try and learn?

 

“I'm not really the jealous type anymore, I think.”

 

Lifestyle & Hobbies

 

What is a normal day for you? How do you feel when something interrupts this routine?

 

“Go to class, study, listen to police reports and patrol. Maybe punch a few baddies or help someone trapped in a car. You know, typical stuff.

 

“I like routine. Kind of sets me on edge when something throws me off-kilter without my knowing it'll be coming.”

 

Do you have any hobbies, or interests outside hero work? What are they, and where did you pick them up?

 

“I exercise by free-running across campus. I climbed into a classroom up a wall, once. Hehe.”

 

What do you do for fun?

 

“Rest?”

 

Do you have a costume? What does it look like?

 

“As Warp . . . Well, figuring out the outfit has been a little more difficult, now? They make pretty much the whole thing for you when you go to Claremont. It's kind of crazy. I'm kind of lucky they kept resizing the thing as I got older, or I wouldn't have the bodysuit. And I'd be a sitting duck, then.

 

“But yeah, the bodysuit is the base of the costume. It's all black and covers me from neck to the toe. It fits to the skin but can keep blows off . . . somehow. But that by itself is pretty boring, so I still go with my old red 'Warp' vest, some big red boots and some gloves.”

 

How do you normally dress when not in costume?

 

“Like I said, leggings and whatever shirt is comfortable.”

 

What do you wear to bed most nights?

 

“Pajamas.

 

“They have rockets on them.”

 

Do you wear any special jewelry? What is it, and what does it look like?

 

“No.”

 

Do you have a special place where you keep your valuables?

 

“My Pocket. Like, nowhere is safer than my own dimensional space.”

 

What's your preferred means of local travel? How about long distance?

 

“I can teleport around the planet in 10 minutes. How do you think?”

 

Miscellaneous

 

Have you ever made a will, or tried to make arrangements for your death? What provisions did you make?

 

“I have not. I'm a college student, what'll I leave? Ramen and debt?”

 

If your features were to be destroyed beyond recognition, is there any other way of identifying your body?

 

“No.”

 

What would you like to be remembered for after your death?

 

“How about saving lives?”

 

Do you believe you pose a threat to the public? Why or why not?

 

“Yes. I almost detonated in the street, four years ago. I mean, that's a threat. If I'm careful I can avoid falling into that trap again. But it happened. If I mess up, it could happen again.”

 

What do you perceive as your greatest strength?

 

“Stubbornness and spite.”

 

What do you perceive as your greatest weakness?

 

“Pessimism.”

 

As a player, if you could, what advice would you give your character? Speak as if he/she were sitting right here in front of you. Use proper tone so they might heed your advice...

 

“Hang in there, kid.”

 

The feeling of stepping from cold into sudden warmth was super familiar for Kat, and not necessarily in a good way. Walking out into the sun felt like pushing her hand into warm water after being stuck out in the cold. Cringingly hot on the skin at first, then slowly full of a luxurious, deeper warmth while her body adjusted to the new default temperature. She rubbed her hands together, closed her eyes and barked a little laugh to distract herself from the shock to her system.

The takeout place wasn't all that far away, a little shop built into the corner of a larger mall, advertising itself with striped streamers as loudly as they could to passersby. A perpetually apologetic woman in a long apron prepared their food for them, and then they were back in the park, holding bags heavy with their orders.

Honestly, Kat had been surprised enough that there was a park in Miami at all. Though they'd done their best to try to hide the city behind carefully grown shrugs and trees, you could still hear the noise of the city, all honks and growling engines, from the bench they found in the middle of the park overlooking a little artificial pond.

Kat found herself suddenly shy. She scratched at her waist and found looking Mali in the eye to be a little harder than she thought. “So, have you been keeping up with anyone from Claremont?” Kat grimaced. “I took, uh, a little bit of a break from hero stuff for a while. Lost contact with a lot of people.” She dared an embarrassed sideways glance at Mali.

With Mali through, Kat choked off the Tear's connection with her heart. It reacted immediately, irising shut with a relieved whine as the red in Kat's eyes ever-so-slightly dimmed.

Pulling out her phone, Kat waited for it to overcome the shock of crossing the country and update its map. “Well, we actually could get some takeout, now.” She pawed at her phone this way and that, trying to tease a little more information out of it. “Looks like there's a burger place pretty close by we can grab something from? Right here, a few blocks down. I mean, I've never heard of it, but I don't go to Miami to eat real often.” She preferred stealing off to Chicago for some pizza, when she had the time. And the money. Ah, college.

“I'm not feeling real picky, so unless you have something else you'd like to give a try . . .”

"Miami it is, then!"

_________________________________

A Park, Somewhere - Miami, Florida

Muffled by the walls, the distant rumble and growl of cars running through the passing freeway made counterpoint with the slow drip-drop of water from a leaky faucet no one had fixed in a week. The linoleum tiles were clean enough in the center, but near the edges where the stalls gathered grim had begun to accumulate, and the metal had begun to yellow. It needed a plumber, but if it didn't get help, it was going to need a demolition crew instead.

It had no company except the angry murmur of outside traffic and the sound of its own disrepair . . . But wait—

The world whimpered as a thin, sickly line the color of skin under pried-off fingernails cut through the middle of the bathroom. The whimper became a wail as it ripped apart, tearing open space along a vertical line into a wide, festering world-wound within which squirmed bloody redness and absolute black.

The impossible chaos of red in the tear became a swirl, became a silhouette, became a shape, became a person.

Kat stepped out of her Tear and gave a quick paranoid glance around. No one. She sighed her relief and stepped back away from her Tear to give Mali plenty of room.

Unlike Mali, Kat didn't really need to go home to change. A little perk of having a dimensional pocket was always having options. She'd swapped out what she had in the library for a pair of shorts that went halfway down her thigh and a close-fitting tanktop cut above her stomach, both dark-slanted gray, put together with a sleeveless red vest that fell past her waist that was too thin to keep heat in, and was far more useful for show and pockets than anything else.

Kat did a lot of her exercise running. Freerunning, actually. She didn't like machines, much, and maybe it wasn't the most balanced or wise way to do it, but it was how she liked to do it. And if the weather wasn't great for it, all she had to do was go elsewhere and try to move across those streets, the same way she would elsewhere . . ."Miami is pretty nice right now," Kat said, almost to herself. "Go down somewhere like that, warm, for a bite to eat . . . some ice cream, maybe. Just . . . Don't think about it too much. When you can do anything, it's easy to get lost. Just . . . First thing that comes to mind, we can find somewhere for it on a GPS and go there." She punched a fist into her open palm. "Bam."