Heritage

1d20+10=25 Not sure if any of those are relevant.

-Okay, I want you to leave the room like you're freaked out- - -This will require no acting.- -Then suit up, go invisible and use the Helm on this guy; see what you can see.- -Done.- Gretchen sidled out from behind the counter and began heading for the back room, making no attempt to hide how genuinely disturbed she was; meanwhile, Lynn continued to speak to the Customer from Beyond, using all her considerable charm to remain civil as she stepped over to the computer terminal. "Hmm, that doesn't sound familiar; let's take a look." Her nimble fingers danced across the keyboard, so fast one might not realize she was actually just a very fast hunt-and-picker and not an actual typist. "I'm...I'm not seeing it listed here; who told you we had a copy? We might be able order one for you." At that moment, the Shrike floated invisibly out of the back room, the eyes of her mask turned on the creep looking for anything abnormal.

For folks unfamiliar with the Shrike:

Gretchen had been spending most weekends at Lynn's place; they'd finally graduated to snuggling in bed, which was...heaven, but as always the cynical barista was allowing her friend and partner to set the tone and speed of their developing relationship with a surprising tenderness. It was rare for her to lower her shields and let someone in, but she was in no hurry; intimacy would come when the somewhat skittish changeling, who was after all still a widow, was good and ready. So for now it was just spooning in an impossibly-comfortable conjured bed, the Ring of Power allowing them to talk without speaking, their warmth shared with three cats tucked here and there between them. You see? Heaven. But then reality had to go and intrude as Gretchen's phone played Devo's "We're Through Being Cool", which meant the FCPD had come to call; an audible groan rose up from under the covers, and the cats got up and stretched. -Noooo! Cops bad! Take away pretty warm girl!- -Can we just bask in the awesomeness that they contacted me instead of you? The Shrike has arrived!- A rustling of covers. -The Shrike has arrived!- -.....Fine! Go be heroic and s###! Just promise me you'll come back alive...with coffee.- -Is that even a question?- Less than ten minutes later (telekinesis for the win!), an increasingly-familiar figure in black and silver floated in through the shattered window; though hardly a household name, a few of the officers on the scene recognized the Shrike and gave her a friendly nod, which she returned with a salute. Gretchen drifted over to the two cops in charge, incongruously sipping coffee from a Thermos as her bootheels gently crushed broken glass. "Captain...detective." (Lynn had taught her how recognize types of cops by their typical crime scene behavior.) "How can I help?"

"Sakuuuuuuu!" There was a rush of wind, then a friendly freight train slammed into the young inventor as Casey flew over, crushing her in thankfully non-lethal bear hug that quickly went airborne, spiralling into the sky and stopping just before they cleared the roofline. "Mmmm, I missed you so much!" Then she drifted back down to the ground and gently deposited her friend on the lawn, stepping back to look her over. "Wow, look at you! You grew!"

Here I am!

"Ayyy, nice to meet you, Prez! But please, call me 'Butch'; no one calls me Harold." "It really is useful," Gretchen agreed as she daintily nibbled on her garlic bread. "I can't imagine what a pain it must be to have to lug around a costume all day, or worse, have to wear it under your street clothes." She shook her head in disgust. Lynn shrugged as she eagerly dipped another mozzarella stick in marinara; despite her earlier protestations, she now seemed happy that the masks were gone. "Who knows, that might be something you find when you hit the magic books; it's a pretty common superpower, always has been." Butch pointed at the three heroes with a forkfull of linguini, his expression a bit more serious. "You guys be careful with all that old magic stuff; I've watched Evil Dead II like a thousand times, so I know a thing or two about it." "Plus all those years of playing D&D," his daughter gently teased. "You're damn right," he said with a burp as he thumped his chest with pride. "Seventeenth level paladin, took on Demogorgon and all six hundred sixty-six layers of the Abyss!" "You played a paladin? No way!" "Yes way! Your Uncle Sid was a real sonovabitch when he sat behind that DM screen, let me tell ya; this one time, we came upon this cavern full of three hundred orcs, right? And they were fighting about a hundred fifty dwarves..." As Butch began to recount his tale of adolescent adventure, his daughter clearly delighted, Gretchen leaned over to murmer into Sam's ear. "I was serious about what I said earlier, but I am cruel but fair. I protect the few people I care about, but I'm not paranoid and I don't make false accusations. If we're going to do this thing together, we have to have each other's back, share what we find, and make every effort to keep everyone safe." She paused to smirk as Lynn's dad got more and more animated in his descriptions, waving his hands about dramatically. "After all, we don't have Brave Sir Butch to protect us." She offered him her hand to shake. "Deal?"

Okay, I'm back! Please help me remember all the posts I owe, by PM if necessary.

Casey frowned as she looked at the text, for a few seconds puzzled by the series of numbers at the end, but then I light bulb went off in her head. "Binary..." In a flash, she hit the books, in the most literal sense possible: her pride and joy, her 2010 edition of the Encyclopedia Britanica, the last edition to be printed on paper. The thirty-two volume set was bought by her dad once her powers manifested, as he knew all too well how much quicker the physical copies were than the Internet for someone with super-speed. Seconds later, the letters appeared on page of notebook paper on her writing desk. s a k u r a k o The blonde heroine's face lit up; she was back, Saku was back! It had been several long months since she'd seen her friend, months when there'd been really no one to talk to about community improvement projects, composting or the other incredibly dorky stuff the Girl Scout found so exciting. Now how the heck was she supposed to stay focused on schoolwork until four freaking pm? Somehow, she managed it, though it was like a form of torture; four o'clock found her out in the courtyard, wearing rubber boot, her rain slicks and a waterproof daypack over one shoulder, her amazing eyes scanning the whole yard, eager to catch her first glimpse of her best friend.

This might be a good fit for the Shrike!

Hit another busy patch at school; should be a bit more active in a day or so.

Okay, wasn't sure about that; might give you guys a post or two more before adding any of mine into the mix

- Okay, yeah, please come out now. This guy may or may not want to eat my brains. He also has an urn that is leaking black slime that I really don't want to have to clean up.- -On my way.- The door to the manager's office opened, and the lovely proprietress swept out, which she somehow accomplished without wearing a floor-length dress; instead she wore a thick, off-white fisherman's sweater, comfortable boot-cut jeans and light hiking boots. Her shoulder-length curly hair framed her lovely face, which was just a bit too pretty for a mere mortal. Though her smile was warm, the deep brown eyes were instense and somewhat challenging. "Hello, and welcome to Silberma's Books! I'm the owner, Lynn Epstein; can I be of any assitance, sir?"

ESP and Mental Link used together.

As soon as Gretchen realized the true nature of the mysterious book that had arrived unbidden at the store, she made it very clear to her boss that is was scary s###, was not to be listed in the official inventory, and should be locked in the hidden back room until they figured out how to get rid of it, preferably by hurling it into a convenient volcano or dimensional rift. Such items were always trouble, and the longer it remained in the store the more likely that something bad would happen. And now she was experiencing a terrifying case of deja vu, as once again a shady character showed up looking to purchase a book that no human should ever lay eyes upon; the last time she was shot and nearly died, and her fingers unconsciously traced the scar on her belly through her shirt. But now, things were different, for she had magic of her own to call upon. Gretch stood behind the counter, gently fingering the Ring of Power, drawing confidence from its weight and the chill of the silver as she adopted a pleasant tone with some effort. "I'm sorry, sir, but you appear to be misinformed. No such item exists in our inventory. Is there something else I can help you find?" Then she sent a slightly panicked sending Lynn's way, finding her squirrled away in the office, secretly playing Freedom League Legends on her smartphone. -Heads up. We have a buyer for El Biblio Creepio. Front counter, three piece suit.- -No. Way! Let me have a look at him.- With but a thought, she sent her eyes and ears into the 'Skello Kitty' figure glued to the top of the register, using her link to the glamour. -Oh dear God, he's creepy! Do you want me to come out?- -Not yet, but keep an eye out. Oh, and he offered to pay with dubloons.- -Fuuuuuuuuudge!-

I guess Knowledge: Current Events would make the most sense. 1d20+5=7 Yeah, no

Once she has a chance, Casey will do a quick Google search on all three women, either on her phone or on her laptop at her dorm. Let me know if there are any rolls she'd need to make.

At the mention of the word 'saints', Butch nearly choked on his linguini as he started to laugh; it took him several seconds to recover, though he was still red in the face. "Oh man...'saints'! Yep, that was our little Sheri...always a saint." Grim expertly whipped a mozzarella stick at him, nailing him right between the eyes. "Ow, what was that for?!" "To remind you that you've got a secret ID to maintain, 'Butch'; it's for your own protection." "Alright, alright..." Shrike frowned and cocked her head. "I don't know why your bothering with this, because he's obviously your dad. The accent and speech patterns are a dead giveaway, as is your shared love of loud music and violence." Grim winced and shook her head, while Butch could only laugh out loud. "Oh man! Wow, she nailed you; you picked a good one, Sher!" "Yes I did." Finally she sighed and threw up her hands in frustration. "Alright, f### it; masks off if you want 'em!" There were swirling mists and flashing lights, and Lynn and Gretchen were themselves again, whereas Butch merely had to pull off his bandana mask, looking somewhat sheepish but also excited. "Dad, this is Gretchen and Sam; Gretchen and Sam, meet Harold 'Butch' Epstein, aka my dad." The bookseller buried her face in her hands and groaned while enthusiastic hand shakes and introductons were exchanged.

"Not often enough," said Butch with a laugh. Now that he was inside, Sam could see he was wearing black cowboy boots, well-worn jeans and a black motorcycle jacket; other than the bandana mask, he looked like an aging roadie for Bruce Springsteen. "We set all this up last fall, but we've only been out here, what, three, four times?" "Four times." Grim was sniffing the three entrees in their aluminum serving trays, then shot Butch an annoyed glance. "None of these are remotely kosher." The old tech shrugged. "Well, the garlic bread and mozzarella sticks are. Whadda you care, you can't eat any of it anyways!" "That's not...nevermind. You guys, dig in." The inside of the trailer was small, but cozy; a small card table and three folding chairs barely fit in the space, and the cooler with drinks (which also held a few bottles of Blue Moon) was within easy reach. The paper plates, napkins and plastic utensils gave the whole scene a picnic vibe, though the small space heater reminded everyone it was still winter. Everyone but Grim piled their plates high with delicious pasta while she grabbed one of beers and drank it quietly. "So, ex-con, huh?" Butch inquired through a mouthful of linguini and clam sauce. "That's rough; gotta few buddies that did time. Glad to see you landed on your feet on the outside." Meanwhile Grim and Shrike were exchanging meaningful glances. -You're not going to eat?- -He knows I keep kosher; even if I can't eat the real takeout, I like to share it, y'know?- -But if you conjure up food, it's just glamour, right? You're not actually breaking kosher.- -That would be cheating; I don't cheat, not at that. It's about...being mindful of what you put inside your body.- -Wow. You really are a hardcore Jew.- -Damn right, I am.- -At least have some garlic bread. Break bread with me.- -Fiiiiiine.- The changeling rolled her eyes and reluctantly waved her hand, and a plate of garlic bread and cheese sticks appeared; she made a big show of taking a big bite of bread, which made the little barista smile.

Casey frowned; she obviously wasn't in favor of criminal activity, but family loyalty she could understand. Maybe there was more to this story than meets the eye? Still, talking was always a viable option. "I go by Miracle Girl, Nitro, though you can call me 'MG' or just 'M'. Nice to meet you." She actually offered him a firm handshake, which suggested a bit of her tremendous strength. "So, your brother got in over his head and you're just helping him out? That must suck. Does he owe money to someone dangerous?" She reached down to clear a patch of ground beneath her, then sat down Indian style. "I have a brother, too; he's always looking out for me, even when I tell him not to. Family's like that."

Gretchen will take a shot at the guy who's giving Echo so much trouble. Zap! 1d20+8=21 DC 23 Toughness save if that hits.

Grimalkin/Shrike (13) [Maxed] A Performance to Die For (2) Late Night Out (1) One Night at Rusty's (7) The Box of Delights (1) Twinkling of an Eye (2) Miracle Girl (5) A Bad Case of the Runs (3) Brightly Polished 24 Carat Wits (2) All points to MG.

I will post here tonight; sorry for the delay!

I will post here tonight; still getting back up to speed.

Grim laughed and shook her head. "Nah, seriously, don't worry about; why would you think I ever died?" She hopped up from her chair, which politely vanished; it seemed like she'd already recovered from whatever injuries she'd suffered. Pointing up at her pointed ears, she grinned. "Just remember these things are like satellite dishes; I mean yeah, I can't hear everything, but they pick up a lot." The Shrike looked around the junkyard, hands on her hips. "Are we going to keep going or take a break? I could actually eat." The changeling nodded. "Yeah, good call." She cupped her hands around her mouth and bellowed over to the trailer. "Hey Butch, what do we have for the contestants on our show tonight?" Butch responded in an over-the-top announcer's voice. "Tonight's guests will receive a delicious Italian dinner courtesy of Jo-Jo's Pizza and Pasta! Jo-Jo's Pizza, since 1993!" The man in the trailer killed the overhead speakers and then leaned out of the booth with a smile. "I got linguini and clam sauce, fettuccine carbonara and lasagna, plus three orders of garlic bread and mozzarella sticks. We got Coke, Sprite and Fanta to drink." Gretchen licked her lips involuntarily. "Wow, that sounds amazing. Where do we eat?" "C'mon up into the trailer, I gotta little table up in here." A side door opened, and the smell of tasty Italian takeout wafted out into the cold night air. A ramp led up to the door, and it was now visible that Butch was confined to a wheelchair, which was covered in old band and trade union stickers. "Mi soundbooth, su soundbooth."