Heritage

"Oh, I'm going to college alright," the blonde heroine said with a vigorous nod. "Northwestern University. Medill School of Journalism. Full scholarship." She'd known since she was ten years old. But then she put together everything Saku was saying, and an incredulous grin spread across her face. "Wait a minute. Are you...are you building a spaceship?!" The possibilities boggled the mind. "I guess...I guess it's not much different than taking a year off to tour Europe." Then she laughed and covered her mouth. "Well, other than the whole 'flying into space' part; that would be new!"

More than anything else in the world, Lynn wanted to crush Sam in the tightest bear hug inhumanly possible right now, to tell her it was okay and not torture herself for her past mistakes. But they didn't have thst kind of relationship yet, if they ever would, and there was no time. So instead she rose to her feet, dismissed her rug and followed the monks to the platform, where she once and sat and crossed her legs. "Guess we're as ready as we'll ever be..."

Can Gretch make a Knowledge: Technology roll to try and figure out some possible uses for the parts?

Gretchen rolled her eyes. "Oh, boo-hoo! 'The capes make it so hard to be a criminal these days! It's almost like they don't want us commiting crimes.'" She held up her gloved fingers with less than an inch of space between thumb and forefinger. "You get exactly this much sympathy from me. McDonald's is always hiring." Meanwhile she used her TK to float out a few pieces of tech, turning them over in the air as she tried to visualize what the mook's employers might want to do with them.

'Signing you up' was no doubt a euphemism for something terrible, like being killed, vampirized or getting a major label deal, all of which were equally undesirable to Gretchen; that being said, feeling his breath on her face did make her pulse race, and she could see her glasses fogging up. It would be so easy to just let his magnetic pull draw her in, surrender herself to the power of his- Lord. Douchebag. She was stronger than this, better than this, and she would not give this a-hole the satisfaction of taking her. So she leaned into him and murmered, "Sure. Is there any kind of...signing bonus?" And then she put her hands on his belt and gave it a playful tug.

Casey taking DC 20 on her Notice check like a BOSS!

"This is all super-weird," murmured Casey as she pulled off her glasses and turned her senses to the world of fog around them. She was scanning for heat sources with her IR and cocking her head from side to side as she listened up and down the radio frequencies; it looked a bit odd, but in situations like this, practicality overrode all social conventions. Plus she had a pretty good feeling that the Chief knew what kind of stuff went down at Claremont...

I'd like to maintain at least a little presence here, without commiting to a ton of new threads. To that end: Grimalkin (with or without Shrike) Dreadful Dares Entrance of the Gladiators Miracle Girl Pirates of the Sulu Sea

Lynn shrugged and nodded. "Alright, fair enough; from now on, you'll be strictly on the clock." She folded the envelope in half and tucked it in her back pocket. "Okay, once you've had your coffee...oh, you get a free pastry item every shift, too, so grab a muffin or bagel or donut, whatever..." Lance stepped from behind the bar to bring Sam his coffee. "Here you go, sir; hope you like it." Then the store owner had a thought and snapped her fingers. "Hey, you know what, put that in a travel mug, for safety around the books and stuff." She held out her hand, and a big, sturdy ceramic mug appeared, complete with spill-resitant lid; traced around its ebon sides in eloborate crimson script was written 'Sam's Cuppa Joe!'. The colors exactly matched his 'working clothes'. Lance chuckled as he accepted the mug and poured the cup he'd prepared into it, saying "Then I guess I better top this off," as he headed back behind the counter. "Okay, so now- what?" Lynn was interrupted by a withering glance from Gretchen. "Mister Levinsky is sitting right over there." She indicated one of the older Jewish regulars who'd just started reading his paper at a table, waiting for Lance to bring him his first cup of the day. Lynn scoffed and waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, the man is eighty-seven years old; he's stone deaf and can barely see. Look how close he has to hold the paper to his face!" In truth, he really was holding the paper about an inch from his bespeckled eyes. Gretchen shook her head and threw up her hands. "Fine. Share your secrets with the elderly. See if I care." With a well-practiced exasperated sigh, she headed for Lynn's office, calling out to Sam without bothering to look over her shoulder. "Come on back when you're ready!" Just then Lance came back to give the new 'temp' his brand-new mug, filled to the brim with caffinated goodness. "Here you go, sir; enjoy!" Then he brought a cup to Mr. Levinsky, who smiled and called him 'Luthor'. "And it's the start of another day at Silberman's Books," murmered Lynn with a wink as she followed Gretch back to her office.

Gretchen came back into the store at the tail end of Flintlock's performance, raising her eyebrows in appreciation. "Wow. Nice set of pipes for a drunk sexy pirate." "Yep! Here, help me get her into my office." She smiled as innocently as she could and waved a calming hand towards the patrons who were starting to come out from behind cover. "Not to worry, folks; we've got the situation under control!" She hooked the flintlock on her belt (discretely conjuring a bit of leather to restrain the trigger), and then they both put one of her arms over their shoulders and lifted. Gretch used the power of the Ring to cheat a little, TKing herself a bit of extra lifting power. Once they had her in the back, they closed the door and gently lowered her into one of the leather chairs. Greth looked down at her blankly. "Now what do we do?" Lynn smiled cheerfully. "We wake her up!" With a wave of her hand, she conjured up a gallon of ice-cold water, in mid-air, directly over the slumbering pirate's head; the resulting splash was truly impressive.

Shrike stepped over to the restrained criminals, arms folded across her chest, and shook her head. "She's wrong, of course. I'm not nice at all." She crouched next to Coyote and smiled, not at all pleasantly. "You want to go for a ride?" And with that, the sniper began to float straight up at an alarming pace; Shrike rose to her feet, her face showing casual disinterest as she followed her progress with her eyes. "I know what you're thinking. 'She's a hero, she can't break the law.' But you have no idea how twisted I am." Gretch smiled cooly, laying it on thick as the sniper rose ever higher. "I'm pretty sure I can get you into the flight path of Trainor Airport with this thing. Better talk now while I can still hear you." Of course, she wasn't actually a socipath, but with dark and brooding cowls like her, could a criminal ever be sure?

So things are a bit rough on the school front; I thought I was out of the woods, but things are even tougher now. Starting next week, my posting will be very thin to nonexistent through May and June as I need to ace *both* my summer classes just to stay in the program. I'll see ya when I see ya!

She accepted the guitar with confidence, slinging it over her shoulder and giving the strings an experimental strum. "It's in tune. Your guitar tech at least knows what he's doing." Gretch fished a pick out of the back pocket of her jeans; yes, she always carried one, because you never know. Of course, the axe was no longer plugged into an amp out here in the crowd, but fingering could still be demonstrated. "Watch closely. You might want to take some notes." And with that, she began to put the guitar through its paces, easily shifting between genres and artists; Stevie Ray Vaughn bled into Joe Satriani, which flowed smoothly into a little Hendrix, Angus Young and Strummer. Without the juice, it was not a mind-blowing experience, and Gretchen was still young and developing her technique, but her technical skills were undeniably impressive; right now, she was very good, but someday she'd be amazing. "There you go, a little taste." She handed it back and shrugged. "Not my best, but it's tough to play right-handed when you're a lefty." Bam.

Casey is going to practice with her big brother back in Colorado over the summer, which will be covered in a FCS; I'm trying to develop her relationship with Josh a little bit more.

Yeah, that's kind of what I was thinking, too; make the Russians *think* we got all the jewels, or something along those lines.

Lynn recoiled slightly at the captain's breath, which would probably melt any breathalyzer forged by man. Jack Sparrow lives, and he's trapped in the body of a supermodel. With considerable effort (which involved sealing off her nasal passages with glamour), the changeling focused on the issue of the disturbing 'Mr. Smith'. "He wasn't super fishy or snakey per se; it was more..." She squinted with thought as she tried to shape the thoughts with her hands. "Like he lived in a trunk on the Titanic, and just decided to do a bit of shopping, y'know? Plus he had a super-creepy urn under his arm, and offered to pay with frickin' doubloons, ferchrissake!" She leaned in closer. "And he wanted to purchase a very scary book that showed up, unannounced and unordered, at our shop just today; how did he know it was coming?" Lynn didn't know a lot about the Yellow Sign, but she'd heard rumors, and none of them were good. - - - Gretchen looked down at her figure, she nearly panicked; she wasn't sure if it was topographically possible for her to fit through that space! Holding her breath, she steeled herself and made a float for it. I'm an eel. I'm a slippery, sneaky eel. Using the Ring of Power, she zipped through the door just over his head, twisting her body in ways she never knew could. Then it was down the stairs and out the front door, the proverbial hounds of Hell nipping at her heels. - He was talking to the urn. He was talking to it and praising Dagon. Isn't he a pagan god of some sort? God, I need a f###ing shower and a bottle of Jack. - - Gretch, you are amazing! Come back to the store before you get all liquored up. - - Copy that. - - - - Lynn's eyes had gone unfocused for a few seconds during this mental conversation, but then they locked back onto Flintlock. "Dagon; he might worship Dagon."

Well to be honest, I wouldn't be opposed to that, but I was thinking more about operating at the local level; is there nothing that could be done in Freedom to help?

At this point, the only person behind the counter/bar was Lance, wearing jeans, a black William Shakespeare T-shirt, and a dark purple bandana, in addition to his brown apron, of course. But Lance's own brand of sunny optimism was a good match for Sam's demeanor this morning, and his grin was a wonder to behold. "Hey there, Mr. Steiner! Good morning!" He indicated the manager's office with a nod. "Boss Lady's back there." Then he gestured towards the espresso machine. "Can I get you anything? Some shots or a capp or just a cuppa joe?" The wonderful smell of freshly-brewed coffee was indeed tantalizing. Gretchen came up behind him, arms folded across her chest; today she was dressed not so differently than Lance, though her black T bore a picture of Freddie Mercury and it was under a red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing her musical arm tats. Also, no bandana; Gretch did not do bandanas. She smirked her usual smirk and gave him a nod. "Greetings, new guy. Your ass belongs to me today, but I'll give you chance to say hello to the boss before we crawl into the salt mines." - He's here, and he's wearing khakis. You owe me five dollars. - - What? I made no such bet! - - Then come out here and see the magic. - Lynn came out of her office, lovely as ever in jeans and simple peasant blouse; she took in Sam's new look with a nod of approval. "Hi, Sam! Look at you; the kid cleans up good!"

This is technically true; however, I'm choosing the option that it never came up for roleplay reasons, just because I will probably do a Freedom City Story this summer about her taking the class, and give her a rank or two.

Yeah, I'm definitely going to buy her some ranks in Drive as part of my next character edit; just occured to me that I don't recall it being of the Claremont experience.

It just occured to me that while Casey is now 18, she doesn't have her driver's license; she's always just flown places. Which made me wonder, does Claremont even offers such a class? I can't remember it being discussed in Hero High or anywhere else, though I might be mistaken.

The young Claremonter eagerly put on the life vest, clearly familiar with how to put one on; some people grumbled about putting on a vest, stating they were excellent swimmers or the like, but Casey made no objections. Once she had it properly adjusted and squared away, she joined Torpedo Lass at the helm, looking somewhat uncertain. "Well, we definitely covered basic boating and boat safety in Scouts, but I've never piloted one this big before, Chief; with your permission, I'd love to give it a chance, though." She reached over and carefully placed her hands on the stearing wheel and throttle, then looked over her shoulder sheepishly. "I have to be honest, though; I don't even have my driver's license yet." It was true; as a flier, she hadn't really needed to drive, so she hadn't signed up for the class yet.

"Oh, I could definitely murder a pizza," Casey said with enthusiasm as she dropped some more of Saku's stiff next to the pool. "Have you tried Chicago-style deep dish? There's a place at the Millennium Mall food court that opened a few months ago; they have thin crust, too, if you prefer that. We can grab two, one for me and one-" She looked somewhat embarrassed by her big appetite. "Uh, you know, to split." When her roommate started to ask her a question, she politely turned to face her, adjusting her glasses. "Sure, what's up?"

Casey laughed. "Uh, no food pills that I know of...though we have some pretty good snack bars; Clif bars are my favorite, though Luna bars are good, too." She looked around for an adult to talk to about their plans. "Just give me one second to let someone know where we're going, and then we can go grab some breakfast." - - - Claremont's cafeteria was one of Casey's favorite places in the world; no one looked at her funny for eating as much as a linebacker, and the food there was soooo good! The blonde teen was more than happy to pay for her guest's meal; her own tray was piled high with double portions of pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, wheat toast, grits, coffee and orange juice. She also grabbed a few snack bars from the rack near the register for Daisy to try. Leading her over to a long table by the window, a big smile on her face, it was clear eating was one of Casey's favourite things to do. "Heeere we go! We've got a nice view of the campus from here. Dig in!"

Gretchen smirked as she pulled up her hood. "Lucky for you, 'surprise' is my middle name..." She faded completely from view as the Cloak of Mystery lived up to its name. Then her voice came incongruously out of thin air. "Actually, it's Samantha, but don't tell anyone." Now safely hidden from sight, the mystical heroine floated up, looking to rise above the bluff and get a good view of the surrounding area and radio what she saw to her teammates who had comms.