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OOC Thread for Joe's Diner.

GM When Tristan Delacroix first disappeared, the initial reaction at the party was simply bewilderment. No one panicked, thanks to the lack of apparent trauma. Even after the young doctor failed to pop up from beneath the outdoor table, his family and coworkers weren't sure what to make of it. But soon Alexander called the police, and then a few of his friends in local government to ensure that law enforcement was properly motivated. AEGIS quickly took an interest too; jurisdictional protocols kept them from claiming the case for themselves without more evidence of superhuman involvement, but they nonetheless dispatched Agent Thornton, who only just closed her last case involving a Delacroix abduction. And Thornton, smart enough to use all the assets at her disposal, put out a broadcast on the International Air Distress frequency for Miracle Girl. That hero's contribution, sadly, came down to looking around the estate and confirming that, yep, the little dude was gone. She didn't find any cackling villains lurking in the bushes, or ultraviolet ransom notes waiting for her eyes only; theories abounded among the regular investigators, but evidence did not. Casey might need some help with this one. * * * Calls were made, the media took note, and by the time that dawn lit Delvin's upper roof--a house so frivolously large that it looked like a posh, poorly-located shopping mall, because no private residence had any business being this big--his stone driveway was full of police cruisers and black SUVs with government plates. News vans lined the nearest public road. Tristan wasn't quite so well-known as the older two brothers, but he'd still draw in viewers, and if he didn't, then reporters could still find something worth their time here. They hovered just beyond the police barricades, hungry but patient. This was Freedom City, and sooner or later, heroes were bound to show up.

The Fen's were known for many things, violence, poverty, crime, and much more. However, one bright spot in an otherwise bleak spot of the city was Joe's Diner. Established shortly after the Fen's became associated with the theater district, it's combination of cheap mostly decent fare attracted an eclectic crowd especially after a show. It was then that the artsy types looking for authentic diner fare mingled with those looking to get something to line their stomach for a fraction of what they'd spend at some of the more well to do establishments. For most of the people in the Fens, Joe's was fine dining and had a steady but sparse set of clientele. Frank Constanzio, know to the regulars as Frankie stood behind the counter with a scowl on his face, his meaty hand resting next to a sign that read, 'I ain't Joe'. Tonight was going to be that kind of night, one of those Broadway shows was letting out and pretty soon they'd be swamped with every manner of patron imaginable. If they didn't count on the business, he'd have closed every theater night as he didn't need the trouble and aggravation that it brought. He wondered how many times he'd have to let people know that they didn't have tofu anything and sighed while flipping a leathery looking rib-eye that would go in their signature steak sandwich. Well, it was as close to a signature dish as this place would have. Really, fast and cheap was the motto and he'd be damned if he was going to up sell, upscale, or whatever else those cooking shows said restaurants needed to do. With a shake of his head, he slapped the semi tough, but flavorful piece of meat onto some bread next to the bed of greasy looking fries and slid the plate across the counter, "Moe! Order up! One roast on toast!" Of course, it was hard to hear him as a FCPB car came blazing down the street sirens blaring as it descended into the chaos that was the fens. When it had finally passed he shouted again, "Roast on toast is up! Moe!"

27 December, 2017. 432PM. Damien looked in the refrigerator. It was his turn to cook. It was always his turn to cook. Paying off the debt of living with his friend in a nice area of town. Luckily, Austin Sinclair - the founder of the feast, so to speak - kept a fully stocked kitchen. Tonight's menu was simple. Mushroom-stuffed Pork Tenderloins. Luckily for Damien, dead things didn't show any patterns. He thought about being a vegetarian for a while. The patterns showed him really messed up things, not just humans. Animals too! He just didn't understand animal biology that much. As Damien began to prep the ingredients, he smelled burning. Looking outside, somehow (he had some educated guesses how) the building across the street was at 3 alarm blaze. He scanned... yeah, there were people still in there. Dinner was going to be late. Austin knew of Damien's engagements outside of cooking and school. Didn't make him any less hungry. Damien dropped his shirt and pants to reveal the morphic molecules costume he wore under it. Pulling over the mask Damien was now Power. As quick as he could, he rushed outside to hear the fire trucks coming. He had to get in an rescue those people. Luckily his body repaired itself fast enough to avoid some of the fire. Hopefully he could get some people to safety!

Power's debut. Featuring Miracle Girl.

Hi gang! Cool Homosapien and I are looking for a GM to possibly run a thread idea we had to introduce our characters Sensus and Miracle Girl. The set-up is this: Sensus works at Joe's Diner, a legendary greasy spoon in the Fens just across Broadway from the Theatre District. It's the type of place where hip young theatergoers might go after a show for breakfast and coffee after midnight. Casey and three of her NPC sorority sisters head over to Joe's after catching a touring company of 'Wicked'. While they're there, thugs of some kind show up to menace the place. The thing if it is, Casey can't reveal her secret identity in front of her roomies, so anything she does will need to be very subtle. Moe on the other hand won't be so restricted. This is less of a pure combat thread and more an interesting way for them to meet, plus endangered civilians! Anyone interested?

PI EPSILON DELTA Alpha Chapter, FCU Founded: October 27th, 1905 (Freedom City College, Freedom City, NJ) Sorority Type: Social Emphasis: Traditional Values and Sisterhood Scope: National Motto: Patebit Tum Quod Latuit That Which Is Hidden Shall Be Revealed Colors: Blue and White Symbol: Tower Flower: Evening Primrose Jewel: Moonstone Publication: The Tower Philanthropy: Various and extensive Chapters: 50 Mascot: Owl: Wisdom and strength Alpha Chapter Senior Officers: Rivian St. Clair, President Janine Maitland, Vice President Isabella Vasquez, Secretary 2017 Freshman Pledges, West Gables Housing Unit: Casey Blankenship, Journalism. Casey is an athletic blonde from Colorado. A former Girl Scout, she's very outdoorsy and into environmental causes. Caucasian. Lola Carbone, Engineering. A very out lesbian from Boston, came to FCU on a basketball scholarship. Very direct and to the point, but fun-loving. Caucasian. Crystal Henshaw, Psychology. Very open and expressive, but easily overwhelmed by negativity. Originally from Cleveland, OH. African-American. Stephanie Kowalski, Political Science. A complicated girl from a well-connected family in Philadelphia. Loves chess and video games, also a former Girl Scout. Caucasian. Darlene Lampwick, Pre-Law. A flirty Southern belle from Atlanta, third generation Legacy. Outgoing blonde who is smarter than she looks. Caucasian. Maria Sangre, Entrepreneurship. Maria is a Nuyorican. She is not bossy, she is the boss. Well, she likes to think. Is a bonafide superhero with the power to manipulate blood. Free cures were probably a big part in her acceptance. Latina. Elizabeth Scanlon, Pre-Med. A borderline Goth from Jersey City with a morbid sense of humor. Kinda gross. Likes to be called ‘Scanner’ for some weird reason. Caucasian. May Yuen, Economics. Comes from a wealthy family in Arlington, VA. Very driven and success-oriented, doesn't socialize much. Chinese-American. West Gables Room Key: A: Lola and Stephanie’s Room. Small room at the end of the hall, with two closets. Steph doesn't use the desk here because it's too small; instead, she set up her custom PC in the Quiet Study Area (Room B). Lola has set up a chin-up bar in her closet, just inside the room; she also put a Nerf basketball hoop across from her bed. B: Quiet Study Area. Features two desks (one of which has been permanently claimed by Steph), well-stocked bookshelves and four leather reading chairs. Cozy. C: Darlene and May's Room. Cleanest room on the floor, fairly girly in terms of décor. Both closets are full of expensive, fashionable clothes. Darlene and May spend very little time here; the former is typically out socializing, the latter at the library studying. D: Common Room. The ‘living room’ of the West Gables, with two leather sofas, a coffee table, a wall-mounted flatscreen TV and three game systems (the latest PlayStation, Xbox and Nintendo models). There's also a small dorm fridge and microwave. Always smells of nachos, ramen or microwave popcorn. E: Crystal and Elizabeth's Room. Two girls, one closet; not a great situation. This room has a split personality, one half clean and pleasant, the other dank and hostile, and the ‘dank side’ is winning. ‘Scanner’ rarely leaves her room, leaving the non-confrontational Crystal to wander around the rest of housing unit. F: Showers. The windows here look over the courtyard, but the glass is all frosted for privacy. Always slightly funky, despite the best efforts of the house cleaning staff. G: Bathroom. Eight young women sharing one communal bathroom makes for a lot of chaos, especially on Friday or Saturday nights. There's a locked closet of some kind on the right hand wall, but no one knows where the key is at the moment. The windows are also frosted in heree. H: Stairwell. A beautiful old stairwell rises up the whole height of the chapter house, topped with an elegant stained glass dome. A vintage elevator, with sliding metal gate and brass fixtures, allows students to ride with comfort. I: Main Hallway. The hallways are all carpeted to minimize noise on the floor at night. Pictures of former ‘Pis’ from decades past line the walls, laughing, singing or marching in long-forgotten protests, creating a sense of nostalgia and/or melancholy in the more sensitive. J: Casey and Maria's Room. (Player Characters will furnish this room.) K: Kitchen. A well-stocked food preparation area, with two full stoves, two full-sized fridges, two microwaves and a large double sink. There's plenty of counter space, a small table with three chairs, and two vending machines, one for drinks, the other for snacks. An espresso machine and coffee maker make this a busy area on weekday mornings. Also used as an alternate ‘hang out’ space. L: Dining Hall. A large communal dining area with long tables right out of Hogwarts. Sometimes used as an alternate study area. The gas fireplace still works, which is a good thing, because the old tile floor is always freezing. M: Fire Door: Opening this door sets off the fire alarm; beyond it is a disused ballroom, various storerooms and ultimately the East Gables housing unit.

What can you do about dino DNA!?

Freedom City, New Jersey Thursday, 23 March 2017 Afternoon Arthur Campbell was many things to many different people. He was a world-renowned geologist, a contemporary of Edmund Hillary, one of the last great explorers, a guest lecturer at HIT and FCU, He was a philanthropist and a regular figure in Freedom City's gala scene, always a perfect gentleman and the life of the party. He also had excellent taste as he had requested the help of Samantha Carson when he ran into a sticky problem with some crystals. He was also a figure of interest to the police, given the number of police cars gathered around his North Point mansion and the police tape across the entrance. Samantha Carson was parked on the side of the road, watching the flurry of police activity. She was supposed to be meeting with Arthur in, well, about thirty seconds, but driving through a police cordon would make that much more complicated.

The OOC. Put all rolls here.

June 2017 White Sands Missile Range New Mexico "Mayday, mayday!" came the alert as the plane descended towards the base runway, the beings surrounding it jetting back and forth like mites attacking a bird. But these mites had teeth - and super-strength. "This is Air Force One with a Code Uniform Mayday, repeat, a Code Uniform Mayday! We are in distress and about to make an emergency landing at White Sands Missile Range!" General George Bradley, the overall commander at White Sands, was a scientist more than a warrior - but he knew a Code U Mayday well enough. He'd been a young second lieutenant assisting Colin Powell the last time a Code U had been called - when the man it had been named for, the Ubermensch, attacked the White House during the first Gulf War and only barely been defeated by the Centurion. Superhumans were attacking the President! "Clear the runaway, now!" he called, running out the door from his office to his command post at top speed. "Get Kirtland and Cannon to scramble their jets now!" The Air Force bases weren't that far away, not at jet speed. The moment he stepped outside, he heard the battle in the air - Air Force One was screaming in for a landing at breakneck speed, smoke pouring from its engines, the zipping forms of attacking metas on either side now taking fire themselves from White Sands' small MP force. "And put out an alert - White Sands is under attack by unknown hostile forces!" There was no point in letting the world know the President was arriving - not yet!

July 8. Boston. Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Science Building Parking Lot. 1 PM. Samantha Carson was nervous. She had finished up a last bit of work. There were always summer session students looking for a little one on one time. She was a terrific professor, after all. However, that time had passed and now she was waiting for two people. One was her husband, Stan. The other was the superhero known as Miracle Girl. Sam, in her superheroic alter ego known as Terrifica, had been mentoring the girl off and on for quite a while now. However, today was a bold new step in their relationship. She didn’t quite know how the younger woman would react. She had contacted the blonde paragon in the usual fashion, requesting her presence. All other times, it had been casework of one kind or another. Today, as stated, was going to be different. Sam had attempted to communicate that this was a more social occasion, however she was uncertain of the attempt’s success. Speaking of, Miracle Girl should be arriving shortly. It was time to get changed. After all, the young woman wouldn’t know Samantha Carson from Eve. It was Terrifica she was coming to see, and Terrifica who would meet her.

This is the place where the rolls go. Also, ask me anything. I mean it. Well, anything thread related.

This is just a general interest thread. Casey Blankenship (aka Miracle Girl) with be entering the Journalism program at FCU, probably starting next month; I just wanted to get an idea if there are any other FCU students among our ranks. I've also considered the possibility of her joining a sorority (probably the same one her mom belonged to), which could be fun, horrific or both.

Claremont’s Infirmary GM Post Claremont’s Nurses office was like most schools you would find, except you wouldn’t find some of the injuries in most places. Today there was a minor plasma burn from an experiment gone wrong and a phasing accident that looked more painful than it apparently was. Compared to that Possie Park’s broken arm seemed pretty mundane. Of cause this wasn’t a place that Casey seemed often, if at all really, with an almost indestructible body wounds and breaks were thankfully very rare. Unfortunately her brain hadn’t got the memo and she was here for a really intensive headache, bordering on a migraine, that even caused her vision to blur a little on the edges.

April 20, 2017. The Caribbean. Cilan Island. Mid-Morning. Cilan Island was roughly the size of a postage stamp, metaphorically speaking. It was barely in the Caribbean at all, lying right between it and the Mid-Atlantic. Most people didn’t even know it was there. Until today, when a pair of hurricanes (Category 5, the both of them) sprung up almost as if by magic over the course of an hour and a half. It couldn’t possibly be right, but it seemed as if the two storms were fighting each other in deadly earnest. The poor little island was standing right in their path. Maybelle McQueen took one look at the breaking news report and ran out of the Southern Queen. The few hundred people on that island were in serious trouble, and neither of those storms were natural. She tossed command to her sous chef on the way out, and then shot into the air hard enough to rattle windows. Even at top speed, it would take her at least a half hour to get there. By then the storms would be overrunning the island, and people would be in desperate need of help. Fortunately, Queenie was on the job.

GM Somewhere over Route 9 Southside Freedom City, New JerseyThursday November 19th, 2015 6:00 PM Floating hundreds of miles over the city, Miracle Girl was experiencing a view of the city unique to those with some means to propel themselves through the sky. She only had an hour left to patrol, lest Casey find herself late for dinner. Thus far the night had been uneventful. The most threatening thing she had encountered was the cold November rain whipping against her face as she flew around. It seemed all but certain that she would go home after a quiet night out. The stillness of silence was broken by the faint, rhythmic wailing of distant police sirens coupled with all too familiar red and blue flashes throughout the cityscape. At the same time, Miracle Girl was able to hear the silent radio frequency of a security alarm being set off. The alarm lying somewhere other than where the police where apparently headed. Quickly tabling the idea of a completely quiet evening the heroine had options at her disposal.

GM April 22, 2017 12:00 am Toys. There was always something fun about finding new toys. He remembered flipping through catalogs as a small child, trying to find the right thing to ask for. Enough money could buy almost any toy. But of course some toys were priceless. Sometimes people would share these toys. But he'd learned it was always easier to take and not ask. Who cared really? If they really wanted to keep the toys they would have taken better care of them. They wouldn't leave them lying around. He activated the process of "ordering" his new toys. There was a flash of blue light. That was the last thing each of the heroes had seen. That flash had dulled to a city street. A street that could have been any street in Freedom. Kind of. Dozens of cars were on the street unmoving. The towers looked right, but there was no one around. No one save the other heroes in a similar state of recovering from a stupor.

20 Questions Where are you from? I was born and raised in Colorado Springs, Colorado. How would you describe yourself physically? Is this different from how others would? I guess 'tall, blonde and athletic'? I hate to say it, because it sounds like bragging, but I guess I'm, you know, pretty. Or at least I am if you're into tall blonde athletic girls Guys tell me I'm 'cute' or 'hot' a lot, which is really a mixed blessing, because it usually means they're not listening to what I'm saying. Oh, speaking of listening, my hearing has gotten a lot better recently, which is really a mixed blessing, because now I can hear what they're whispering when they think I can't...ick. Girls...well, women usually say things like, 'Oh my gosh, you're so pretty!', which is nice, but obviously not every girl wants to hang out with you if you're a tall blonde, because then sometimes guys ignore them. I'm not going to be horrible and say, 'Oh my gosh, being pretty is a curse!', because it obviously it isn't, but, you know, everything has its downside, I guess. Wow, I sound so shallow; can we cut that part out? Ick! Do you have distinguishing speech characteristics or recurring mannerisms? I was brought up to not curse or take the Lord's name in vain, which I guess some people think makes me sound 'old-fashioned' or like a 'goody two-shoes', I guess. I don't know...I mean, if you wouldn't say something in front of your grandmother, why say it at all? (I do slip up from time to time; sorry, Grandma!) What is your motivation in life? Okay, this is going to sound cheesy as all get out, but I do try to live by the Girl Scout Law, which reads: "I will do my best to be honest and fair, friendly and helpful, considerate and caring, courageous and strong, and responsible for what I say and do, and to respect myself and others, respect authority, use resources wisely, make the world a better place, and be a sister to every Girl Scout." I mean, that pretty well covers it, right? That and being a good Christian, in my case. I know 'respect for authority' gets challenging when you're dealing with like, crooked cops or something, but overall...yeah! What would you consider your greatest strengths and weaknesses? I think I have a good attitude, which I really owe to my parents bringing me up right. I genuinely like to help people, and I'd like to think I'm getting good at it. I think my biggest weakness is...I think I try too hard to please people? And I don't think I always give myself the time to do what I want to do, you know, just for me. What do you love? What do you hate? Oh gosh...I love lots of things! I love the outdoors, like doing anything outdoors. I love animals, both dogs and cats, horses...I love flying, either on my own or in a plane. Oh gosh, I obviously love my family, duh! And I love helping people and hanging out with my friends, so...yeah! What do I hate? Bullies, of any kind. I hate the hatred and fear I see every day in the world; I hate racism, sexism, and people being beat up for what they believe in or who they love. This whole planet, the whole universe...the lives we live? It's a gift; all of it. I don't care what God you pray to, or even if you believe in God at all, but if you can't respect a person who's different from you, then you are not helping. You're making things worse. How would you describe your mental and emotional processes? Very fast! ? Seriously though, I like to think things through, to consider the possible repercussions of my actions, and not just charge blindly into a situation. Ideally you do research first, then recon, then plan, and then finally put that plan into action. Obviously, you don't always have the luxury of time, even if you do have super-speed! In term of emotions, I can get pretty emotional, though I try to keep my emotions in check when I'm out in the field during a mission; afterwards though, I may come home and cry my eyes out. I enjoy a lot of the same sappy stuff a lot of girls my age like; like, I used to love Twilight before I totally grew out of it. What do you fear the most? Causing someone's injury or death through careless use of my powers; I worry about it all the time. What is your greatest ambition? To make a difference, not just through using my powers, but by exposing injustice, corruption or suffering in such away that real change as a result. It's why I want to go into journalism. How does you feel about the state of the world and your place in it? There are lots of problems in the world right now, more than even one person with superpowers can manage; I feel a tremendous responsibility to make the world a better place, and I thank God for giving me the opportunity to put my money where my mouth is, so to speak. Do you have any prejudices? How do you get along with others? I like to think I get along with everyone, but I know I have biases. I feel...very white sometimes; like that thing where you want to hold a bake sale 'to end racism and world hunger'? Yeah, like that; like am I just clueless and over optimistic, or somehow doing more harm than good? Also I recently came to realize I have no African-American friends, and other than a few girls in my troop back home, never really have had any. That time when I into the Fens with Robin? I was freaking out, and I was in no danger whatsoever! So yeah, I do think there's some racism in me; not the hostile kind, but the 'dumb scared white girl' kind. Ick. I have to be better. Where do your loyalties lie? In what order? Oh wow. Um, well, I guess I'm loyal to my family and friends first, then to my country. And then the Girl Scouts, I guess! Do you have a lover or sexual partner? How do they feel about you currently? Uh, that's very personal! Um, well I had a boyfriend in school back home; we mostly did, you know, kid stuff. We kissed, held hands, went on dates. I haven't had a boyfriend since coming to Claremont. So...my mom is a doctor, and she has strong feelings about sex education, which our local school district was pretty...uptight about; she bought me a lot of books and had some very honest (and kind of embarrasing!) talks with me about my body, my rights and my options. Dad was a little freaked out about this stuff (he's really old-fashioned), but Mom insisted, and I'm kind of glad she did. Um, can we go to the next question now? ? Do you have a family? If so, what is your relationship like? Not of my own, because I'm still a kid, but I have two parents and an older brother, like lots of people. I love my family so much, and they give me all my strength. My brother is still very protective of me, even though I can bench press a tank, which is very sweet of him. How would those closest to you describe you? Um, I don't know; 'nice and hardworking'? 'Kind of goofy', or 'a big cheeseball'? Nice things, I hope! My friends back home used to call me 'Head Case', because I'd take so much time to think things over; my brain's just a little faster now, but I still like to think things through. Do you consider yourself a role model? I think when you're a hero, or at least trying to be one, you become a role model whether or not you want to be; people just hold you to a higher standard. So it's important to consider your actions carefully. The trick is not to overthink what you do to the point that you don't do anything. 'Too much analysis leads to paralysis', as my field hockey coach used to say. Everyone makes mistakes, so obviously heroes do, too; the point is, if you're upfront about them and you have a good track record with the public, hopefully they'll understand and forgive you. I just realized that I kind of focused on all the bad things about being a role model; just to be clear, I love being a role model. I love inspiring little girls and boys, and grownups, too, either by example or just providing hope. I do a lot of hospital visits, but not just to the pediatric wards, which of course is awesome (and sometimes heartbreaking, to be honest). I also like to visit injured cops and firemen, or really anyone who was willing to sacrifice themselves to help someone else. They're always so surprised to see me, and I'll say something like, 'What, you didn't know that heroes like to hang out together? Don't you read the tabloids?', or something goofy like that. You just have to check with their doctor first before you start cracking jokes, because cracked ribs and smoke inhalation are not laughing matters! How spiritual are you? Do you follow a religious tradition? I was brought up Episcopalian, which is like 'Catholicism with less guilt', as Robin Williams once said. I believe in God and Heaven, but also helping people in this life. I think a life of service is, well, holy and just, though that might sound kind of cheesy. I don't believe in forcing my religious views on other people; I've met good people who were Jewish, Muslim and even athiest, and I don't think I'm any better than any of them. We have to live our lives as we believe, and good people can do bad things without even realizing it, often when they think they're doing good. If you live a life full of love, whoever you love...that's the best you can do. Are you part of a team, or would you like to be? Why? I work a lot with my best friend Endeavor; I might join her at AEGIS after we graduate. As to why, I think when you work with a good team, you make each other better; no one is so good at their job that they can't do better with some help. How do you feel about the treatment of metahumans and aliens on the Earth? I can't speak about the whole planet, but in Freedom City where I live and work, I think it's mostly good; I mean, you don't live in Freedom if you don't want to deal with the amazing and unusual. But I think sometimes, it could be better; I have a friend named Miss Grue who is, you know, a Grue, and I think she's had to deal with some prejudice because of that, when in fact she's the sweetest person you could ever meet. If you could give one piece of advice to your hero, what would it be? Go out into the world and meet more people; you actually had a pretty sheltered upbringing, and the world isn't as scary as you think. Edited Sunday at 09:43 AM by Heritage

Just making this OOC thread to help better expand on ideas and what not.

When it came to walking through an empty park during night fall, the majority of people's opinions fell into one of two categories: The first category said they loved it for how romantic and tranquil it could be, giving certain people a chance to express how they truly felt without fear of being embarrassed in some way. The other category is that it was basically the equivalent of a death trap as there could be any number of seedy, unruly scumbags lying in wait to pounce on unsuspecting victims, beat them to a pulp, and rob them of all their valuables....and believe it or not, that was only if you were lucky. Tonight was a fine example of both categories playing out. A romantic couple whom we will call Shane and Julia had just been enjoying a peaceful night out, going about their business...when a group of hoodlums had approached them, demanding money if they wanted to live. The two had beaten a hasty retreat and managed to lose them within the woods...unfortunately, by the time they had done so, they had ended up well off the beaten trail and in the middle of nowhere. The two had wandered for some time to get back to the trail but to no avail. As time went on, Shane got more and more fed up with their current situation, "Julia, please tell me you got some reception already! I feel like we been wandering for hours and my feet are killing me!" "Oh quit your bellyaching, Shane," Julia rolled her eyes as she checked her phone and cursed to herself, "Darn it! Still nothing! At this rate, we're gonna be stuck out here all night!" "All night?! Please tell me you're joking..." Shane groaned like a kid whom had just had their favorite toy confiscated, "You do realize this is all your fault, right?!" "Excuse me?!" Julia whirled on her boyfriend, eyes blazing with the red fires of fury and indignation, "Oh no, you don't get to blame this all on me, mister! You're the one who thought it was a brilliant idea to go walking through the park in the middle of the night!" "Whoa, whoa, easy there, Julia!" Shane put up his hands, feeling he had said the wrong thing, "We're both just...tired, ok? How about we sit down for five minutes and then we-" Suddenly, the rustling of bushes could be heard around them, "What the..." From them emerged half a dozen men dressed from head to toe in attire that made them blend into the dark scenery so well they were like shadows. "Ah geez...they found us!" "No duh! What was your first clue, Sherlock?!" She and her lover stood back to back as the hoodlums approached, "Shane, I just want you to know before we die...I was the one who ate the last slice of pizza in the fridge the other night." "That's alright, Julia.." Suddenly, it sunk in what she had said, "Wait, you what?!!" However, before the hoodlums could get any closer, that's when IT happened. The plants around them, and even the tree branches, suddenly came to life, lashing out at them, grabbing and hauling them down to the dirt, causing each of the hoodlums to scream and cry out in shock and horror as they hacked away at their attackers with knives and shot them up with guns. However, for everyone they killed, two more took its place. One thug found himself yanked off his feet by a tree branch and slammed against another of his friends before both found themselves being squeezed together in a bundle of roots and stems. Another whipped out his gun and started shooting at a rapidly approaching pile of moss and vines, but his shots did little to deter the creature from its path as it launched itself through the air, grabbed him and dragged him off into the woods as he screamed bloody murder. The fourth and fifth went after their buddy only to have the ground explode open as a set of giant roots erupted from within to grab and restrain them. The last hoodlum, deciding that any pay to be made wasn't worth losing his life over, turned tail and ran off into the darkness...only for a loud scream to echo through the woods a few seconds later. The incredible thing though is that through this whole nightmarish scene...the pair of lovers were completely unharmed. In fact, it was as if the sentient plants were actively avoiding or even protecting them from their attackers. Despite this, fear still gripped their hearts as they backed away together, until they found their backs against...something. They hesitantly turned their heads and looked up...only to get the shock of their lives. The figure stood silhouetted in darkness and seemed to be wearing some sort of flowing coat over its lean, muscular frame. Its ruby red eyes staring right through them. "P-Please don't hurt us, mister...please, please..." They begged the creature before them. It said nothing...only raised a hand to point behind them, like it were giving a silent signal. The two looked ahead...and saw a new trail that had not been there before. When they looked back...the figure was already gone. Deciding not to stick around, they followed the new trail and before long, were back in the safety of civilization... _________________________________________________ Needless to say, it wasn't long before the pair's story spread like wildfire, and only helped to fuel the growing mystery that had cropped up almost overnight. Videos, pictures, and so on all helped to only create more questions. Who was the mysterious figure hiding out in local parks and in forests all around Freedom City? Where did they come from? What did they want? Just what was the truth behind the shocking behavior of the local wildlife? There was no doubting that quite a few people were kept on edge....It hadn't killed anyone, sure...but was this entity a force for good, truly? Only time would tell...

OOC for this thread.

GM Huge problems can start from the tiniest of errors, like ripples spreading across a pond. When Dr. Marco Hoffman forgot to put his thick gloves on before helping transfer his patient to her gurney for transport, he thought little of it. He merely snatched his burned hand back from Julia Cole's arm, swore under his breath, and reached for his protective gear before finishing the job. The custom-made handcuffs clicked securely in place. She never appeared to stir from her drug-induced sedation; her guards experienced no trouble when they wheeled Cole back to her cell, specially designed for her unique needs. And by the time Dr. Hoffman noticed that his keys were missing from his pocket, it was far, far too late. About an hour later, Dr. Oliver Graves--a particularly appropriate name, given the number of innocent people he put into the ground with his highly unethical work for an organization he barely understood--reviewed the security footage under thermal and slow-motion viewpoints. He already knew what happened; the damage to the facility spoke for itself, as did four missing patients and over two dozen dead or maimed guards. He now wanted to know why. The Coles were gone--project names Absolute Zero and Heat Sink. Holly Page--project name Copy Error--the mercenary for some international cartel or another, who paid for her augmentation through the DNAscent process and were told that their hired gun died on the operating table, was gone. Owen Walsh--project name Temporal Displacement--was gone, but at least he wouldn't be missed; the man was insufferable even before DNAscent unhinged him, and Dr. Graves privately hoped that whichever field agents retrieved him did so with a body bag. All failures, technically, but that hardly meant they had no value. Jonathan Grant and Peter Hanks--only the latter of whom Dr. Graves actually knew--continued to experiment with new techniques for DNAscent; now that they could create "simple" powers with relative reliability, they branched out in hopes of securing more esoteric talents. Why rely on blind luck? Most patients at this particular facility just died, but these four survived with unforeseen side effects, handicaps, insanity, or some combination of the three. Dr. Graves was under orders to study them thoroughly before they were inevitably terminated. Omelets and eggs, after all. He clicked through the video records until he found the problem. There, using the slowest mode available, was a single frame of Heat Sink reaching one blurry hand into Dr. Hoffman's coat pocket. Dr. Graves narrowed his eyes and sighed. He made a mental note to adjust her sedatives, assuming she could be recaptured alive. "Detain Hoffman for the next round of experiments," he told his bodyguards. "And notify Dr. Hanks. We have a problem." * * * The four story structure of glass and gleaming steel seemed to appear almost overnight, right on the bank of the North Bay district; property values here were horrendously expensive, but that wasn't a problem. Although the owner of this facility wasn't blessed with patience, he did have more wealth than he could spend in ten lifetimes, and so, multiple construction crews worked around the clock with whatever equipment they requested. Inspections and permits proved surprisingly cooperative when the city officials who issued them suddenly found their departments' budgets much healthier than the day before. Besides, who wanted to stand in the way of a good cause? Some of those bureaucrats attended today's grand opening. Other guests included local scientists, out-of-town experts, and of course, reporters to handle the publicity. Covers only worked when enough people knew about them. At least it will be a proper charity, Dr. Delacroix thought in his office on the top floor. He made his way through the adjoining lab, past equipment that was still being relocated and set up. Most of the building was devoted to research space...and with so much gear, no one would be shocked when some of it went mysteriously missing during transit, especially when he replaced it with a wave of his checkbook. He took the stairs down to the lobby, where catering crews buzzed about. Tables with finger foods sat parallel to the rows of chairs, which faced a temporary platform where he and certain guest speakers would discuss the charity's goals. Above the platform was a long banner: Oceanographic Charity for Ecological Assistance and Nurturing. OCEAN, or on the formal paperwork, OCEAN-Freedom; Tristan couldn't resist linking his organization to the city that birthed his love of heroes and allowed him to, more or less, be one. The young doctor inhaled and smiled as he looked at the banner. It wouldn't be long now. Soon, he could delegate the day-to-day functions to his staff, narrow his personal contribution to pure research--he doubted that anyone would complain, given his skill in this area--and secretly spend most of his time more immersed in the Great Bay than anyone expected. He turned when he heard the front doors open, bringing in footsteps and light chatter. The earliest guests were arriving, and so, Tristan went to shake some hands.