Electra

Erin let out a long breath, then hastily climbed out of the scanner. "He must have had bigger fish to fry than one security guard," she decided, brushing decades-old dust off her pants. "Or he just went straight for the brain stuff, figuring that's easier than trying to sneak anything past my physiology." She ran her fingers through her hair, watching while Trevor shut down the machine. "I don't want any specifics, but you've got a plan somewhere that would let you stop me if I ever did get mind-controlled again, right?"

There was no response for a long time, long enough that Wander began to shift from foot to foot with nerves and impatience, wondering if this was a fool's errand. Psyche was far more patient, though, and seemed like she would wait all day if needs be. Finally, there was the sound of movement from inside the makeshift shelter, and a moment later, Singularity appeared, looking wary like a hunted animal. She stared from Wander to Psyche for a moment, then at the pile of artifacts Psyche had repaired. Moving quickly, she skirted wide of the heaped rubble and approached the pile, squatting down next to it and attempting to look at them without letting Psyche out of her sight. She reached out a hand to touch one, then pulled it back as though afraid it would hurt. Singularity rocked back and forth on her heels for a moment, making an agitated humming noise in her throat, then seemed to gather her courage and picked one up, coincidentally the same doorknob Alex had fixed first. Her eyes seemed to unfocus for a moment as she experienced the repaired memory. As soon as they cleared, she tucked the doorknob under her arm and snatched up the rest of the memories, filling her arms with them. "Mine," she muttered, "mine, mine..." When she had every single one, she ran with them back into her shelter, still casting furtive glances over her shoulder.

Stesha gave Murdock a quick side-arm hug, smiling at him. "It's awfully nice to see you again, Murdock. You're looking well! I hope they're treating you right at Champions." She walked into the room and let the men talk a little bit while she removed the whimpering baby from her fabric sling. Ammy's little face was screwed up in displeasure, her green hair sweaty from the walk and ride in the summer heat. "Not at all," she assured John, "your time outside of work is your own. You should definitely get out and explore, though it might be good to have a guide the first few times, just to make sure you know how to get around and get back home again." She looked to Murdock, then nodded towards the worn but comfortable-looking couch. "I need to give the peanut here a quick change and feed. Maybe you could give John the grand tour?"

"I'm not letting Archeville within five hundred feet of me with a regular syringe, let alone a nullifier cuff, Erin grumbled, then released an explosive breath. "God, when I think I almost asked him if he would take on Singularity, just so I could get her out of Blackstone... that would've just been the capper on the whole godawful mess. He could've taken off her nullifier, turned her loose, and had himself an instant amazing distraction." She shook her head, before remembering she was supposed to be standing still. "Anyway, I guess The Lab is probably my best bet, at least with all those women superheroes they have to know something about where to go for that stuff." She hesitated a moment, torn between not wanting to look like a coward and a strong sense of unease about strange medical professionals. "Maybe if you came with, we could both check them out."

This is a crowd of bystanders, so they aren't going to be posing much resistance to any Rank 13 powers. They will sit down and shut up. The leader, however, while he will fall down with the others, is less cowed and tripped. Have an HP for his startling doggedness.

Wail's sudden appearance caused a major disruption in the gathering, which was apparently mostly made up of people who didn't spend a lot of time with superheroes in the flesh. A few screamed and ran into the dim depths of the warehouse, while most just stood and looked dumbfounded for a few moments. The leader, though, seemed almost energized by this new development. "Perfect! The ambient energy of an already realized metahuman power will only increase the potency of the endocrinal excitement compound! Quickly, everyone, the pills!" About a third of the crowd remained stunned with the shock of Wail's entrance, but the rest withdrew paper envelopes from pockets or sleeves and swallowed the contents, looking expectant. In the middle of the crowd, Wander smacked the hand of the person nearest her and made him drop his pills, but had no idea what to do beyond that. She looked over the heads of the motley gathering to Wail and shrugged her shoulders.

More comfortable even in a facsimile of her uniform, Erin stood next to Trevor with her hands clasped behind her back and watched the proceedings in the throne room. The ostentatious display of wealth and power made her feel a little uncomfortable. She wondered exactly who Typhoon was trying to impress with all the booming and the posturing. She felt rather bad for Nina, who didn't seem to merit much of her father's attention at all. But for her own part, she was happy to not be the focus of the ruler's attention herself, and was more than willing to wait and watch. Of course, she was also completely ready to go for her bat if the situation should suddenly change.

Erin looked at the time on her phone, then at Trevor. "We probably have enough time before we have to go meet your dad," she murmured, "but I don't know if we're exactly dressed for the occasion." She hadn't thought about the fact that she was in her civilian clothes when there were lives on the line, but now that they were apparently expected to pay a diplomatic call, she felt weird about not being in uniform. Especially since Typhoon, who she knew of from classes but not that much, wasn't exactly a true-blue friend to the heroes from Freedom City.

Player Name: Electra Character Name: Papercut Power Level: 12 [15] (150/225PP) Trade-Offs: +2 Attack / -2 Damage, +2 Defense / -2 Toughness Unspent Power Points: 75 Progress To Orichalcum+ Status: 75/210 (Orichalcum Status earned by Wander) In Brief: Reforming juvenile delinquent whose hobbies are protecting the weak and poking around where he doesn't belong. Fights evil with living origami sculptures. Alternate Identity: Koshiro George McMillan Identity: Secret Birthplace: Detroit, Michigan Occupation: Student Affiliations: Claremont Academy Family: Mother, Kameyo McMillan (b. 1970), brother Takeshi (b. 1990), sisters Suzu and Michelle (b. 1996), grandmother Natsumi McMillan(b. 1942) Description: Age: 17 (DoB: June 15, 1994) Gender: Male Ethnicity: 3/4 Japanese + 1/4 Caucasian Height: 5'11" Weight: 160 lbs. Eyes: Brown Hair: Black Koshiro strongly favors the Japanese side of his ancestry, with a few accents passed down from his Scottish grandfather. He's fairly tall but could still grow taller, with short black hair that is often carelessly tousled and caramel-brown eyes. He prefers jeans and t-shirts at all times, and has a tendency to slouch. Despite a sullen standoffishness, he's appealing to look at. Power Descriptions: Papercut's power is to make paper come to life in any shape he likes. His quick fingers can fold a weapon or a shield at a moment's notice, and while the paper object will still look like paper, it will take on some of the character of its assumed shape, such as weight or sheen or color. All Papercut's powers are of the Magic descriptor. History: (For an expanded family history, please see Papercut's News Page) Growing up, Koshiro idolized his older brother. Takeshi was smart and responsible, taking on adult duties far earlier than he should've had to and never complaining about it. He watched over his younger siblings while the women worked, inventing little games and activities to pass the time, especially when the television was cut off or the power was out entirely. He taught Koshiro the origami folds that Great-Grandmother Tomiko had taught him, and together they roamed through their neighborhood, jumping fences and peeking through windows of the increasing number of abandoned homes all around them. If Takeshi had one passion, it was for exploring abandoned buildings, a passion Koshiro shared in equal measure. In high school, Takeshi joined an informal club of urban explorers and began really getting into the abandoned infrastructure of Detroit, climbing through old buildngs and crawling through old tunnels, taking pictures and sharing the adventures on the internet. Koshiro was desperate to join in too, and after a prolonged campaign of pestering, was allowed to go on some of the missions as well. Their mother didn't approve, but it was better than taking drugs or joining a gang. Takeshi quickly became a leader in the group, and his rules were absolute. No stealing from sites, no graffiti, no vandalism. Nobody went on a mission if they weren't clean and sober. No smoking on site. Always keep in touch, always watch your step, always check in at the end of the night. Koshiro followed the rules rabidly, avoiding any of the chemical temptations that were easily available at their school for fear he'd be booted from the team. He made a niche for himself by chronicling their finds, both with a camera and a sketchpad, then scanning and posting the images. His handle online was Cagey, for his initials, which he thought was extremely clever. The start of high school sucked, between there not being enough teachers or books to go around and more than enough kids to try their luck at bullying the Japanese kid, but he didn't care. Some of the girls liked him well enough, and that was cool, really cool. Most importantly, Takeshi had passed up scholarships at more prestigious schools to stay at home and go to Wayne State, so everything important was going to stay the way it was. Except it didn't. Just after the start of Koshiro's sophomore year in 2009, everything changed. Takeshi went out one warm fall evening to get intel on an old building they were thinking of exploring, a cool old brick thing that had once been a lab or library or something scientific like that. There was probably tons of cool stuff still laying around in there. Koshiro wanted to go with, but he was stuck inside babysitting for the twin pains while Mom worked the back to school late shift. He made sure the girls both went to bed on time and waited up, fooling with a new origami design, for Takeshi to get home so he could upload the pics. But Takeshi never came home. Mom got home and was frantic, the police were called, but they weren't good for a damn thing except making stupid theories and having stupid opnions. They found Takeshi's gear outside the brick building and decided he'd gone in exploring like some stupid amateur kid and fallen through the outside deck into the retaining pond outside. Either that, or he'd decided to take off and laid a false trail to keep anyone from following him. Dragging the pond didn't produce a body, but it didn't change the official line either. The police didn't care about some dumb poor kid who'd been going places he should never have been. The case was left open, but cold. Koshiro couldn't understand any of what had happened, and all he could feel was rage. Why had Takeshi gone without him? Why didn't the police listen when he told them that Takeshi would never have left his gear, never have gone inside without a team? Why didn't anybody give a damn that his brother was gone, maybe dead? Why was everything so screwed up? Without an anchor or a rudder, all the annoyances and problems that he'd been able to ignore rushed over him and swamped him, and soon he was getting into fights at school, staying out late, ignoring his family, and generally making a real halfass-badass out of himself. In the spring, he broke the final set of rules and went exploring by himself, back to the brick building where his brother had disappeared. He broke a window to get inside and scoured the place, bitterly disappointed when it was burned out inside, empty of history, of clues, of proof of anything. The only thing he found was an oddly-untouched perfectly square book, sitting on a blackened shelf in an empty room. He picked it up, but the pages inside were blank, another dead end. Disappointed and angry, he shoved the book into his bag and left, just in time to run into the one cop actually out patrolling Detroit at this hour of the night. He got put on probation for the trespassing and ordered to make restitution for the window, though nobody knew exactly who he was supposed to pay, but it was largely a formality. By the fall he was in trouble again, fighting with some jackasses at school who thought they could talk about his brother, and he was packed up and sent to juvie. At least there, he figured, his mom didn't have to pay for his meals and school supplies. Being locked up, away from his family, his computer, everything that was familiar and comfortable, took a lot of the fight out of him pretty quickly. He knew he'd screwed up badly, and he'd disappointed everyone who cared about him. Takeshi would be ashamed to see what he'd done. Koshiro didn't shape up overnight, but he did shape up, ignoring the jerks and druggies and bangers all around him and withdrawing into his own reserve. He stopped getting into fights, and people started to leave him alone. He was surprised one day to find the square book in a package from home, tucked in along with his sketchbook and pencils. Mom must have thought it was another blank drawing book, but the pages were too thin, almost like rice paper. They were terrible for drawing, but actually really good for origami. Koshiro began pulling pages out of the book and folding them into little cranes, four or sometimes sixteen to a page. A thousand perfect cranes was worth a wish, if one believed origami superstition, and he had plenty of wishes. Most of all, he wanted to make his brother proud, wherever he was, whatever had happened. Even though he knew it was stupid, he folded assiduously, counted fanatically, and as he folded the thousandth crane, sitting in his bunk late at night, he kept expecting something to happen. anything. He carefully bent beak and tail into shape, crimped the tiny wings, and held it in the palm of his hand, staring at it. A perfect paper crane, perfectly ordinary. Perfectly dumb. He muttered a curse and started to close his hand around the little sculpture and crush it, when suddenly it moved in his hand. He froze, sure he'd imagined it, but then it happened again. It bobbed its head inquisitively, stretched its wings, waggled its paper tail and then took flight! Koshiro watched open-mouthed as it careened around the room, flapping its little paper wings. Quickly he opened the shoebox that contained the rest of his collection, plucking one up at random. As soon as his fingers touched it, that one, too, took flight, followed by another, than another. In moments, an entire flock of paper cranes was wheeling around the room. Koshiro grabbed for the book, now almost empty of pages, and opened it up, though he didn't know what he was looking for. The book, one that had appeared out of nowhere somewhere it had no right to be, it had to be the key somehow! The moment he opened the cover, the entire book began to glow with bluish light, and for a moment the pages, both intact and folded, were covered with strange glowing symbols. All at once, the light formed up into a ball and slammed into Koshiro's chest, then disappeared. The cranes, apparently excited by the light, began to wheel madly around his head and body like a paper cyclone. He had a few bad moments before realizing that he could control them even once they'd left his hand, including making them go back in the box before anyone else saw. The next few days saw him consumed with trying to understand and harness this new and strange power. The cranes were just the beginning. If he folded a plane, it flew around making little "vroom" noises and dodging around obstacles until he plucked it out of the air. If he folded an elephant, it trumpeted and lumbered across his bunk, denting the mattress with weight that it couldn't possibly have. The one time he folded a waterbomb, it began ticking ominously until he hastily unfolded it again. Everything he made came to life and did what he wanted. It was weird... but it was also beyond cool. He had a secret superpower! If he practiced enough, got good enough, who knew what he'd be able to do? Practicing in his room was all well and good, but he needed to get outside where he could see how high and fast and far his creations could actually go. With the box of cranes under his arm one hot summer day, he set out for the exercise yard, knowing no one else would want to leave the air conditioning. On the way, though, he ran into trouble. The bullies were leaving him alone these days, but not everyone was so lucky. Three of them were ganging up on a kid Koshiro knew a little, a harmless kid, slow in the brains, who was pretty much only in juvie because the rest of his gang used him as the fall guy when they'd got caught robbing a convenience store. Koshiro confronted them, which in retrospect was not wise since he didn't know how to fight, and all he did was draw their attention. In the space of an instant, though, the shoebox exploded open with the force of two-thousand beating wings, and the bullies were swept backwards by a wave of paper cranes, right in front of the whole crowd who'd gathered to watch the fight. The secret was out. First thing the next morning, Koshiro was called into the superintendent's office. He wasn't shackled for the trip, which seemed like a good sign, though the guards carefully searched him for paper. The superintendent, who seemed rather uneasy, listened carefully to Koshiro's side of the story, then told him that this detention center wasn't the place for him. He would be looking for that place, a place to train him in his new abilities, get him on the right track, just as soon as possible. In the meantime, though, Koshiro was not to cause any trouble. Cheered by the prospect of getting out of detention soon, Koshiro had little trouble agreeing to that. He was a little more ambivalent later, when it turned out he'd be going all the way to Freedom City, but it was still better than juvie. Personality & Motivation: Koshiro has a well-founded distrust of authority figures that tends to get him into trouble, but at the same time motivates him to stand up for little guys who are getting pushed around. He wants his family to be proud of him, but that doesn't mean he's ready to toe the line at all times. Powers & Tactics: Koshiro carries paper with him at all times to allow him to fold up a sculpture as necessary, but he also tends to carry a few ready-made items for use as needed. His most visually stunning power is his blast attack, which consists of a thousand paper cranes with tiny sharp beaks and buffeting wings. Complications: Rap Sheet: Koshiro's actions have gotten him in trouble with the law, and further screwups could lead to more severe punishment in the future. Short Sheet: Papercut's powers require paper to use. He always carries some, but if he's caught out, he's in big trouble Rice Paper Sheet: Papercut's origami creations are far more durable than a typical origami sculpture, but they are still paper. If conditions are sufficiently wet, they will not work effectively. Sheets to the Wind: Papercut is new to his powers and has no combat training. He is brave, but not exactly ready for prime time, and in a fight may rely on inefficient tactics because they are familiar. Sheet Anchor: Even though he's screwed up and disappointed his mom, and even though his whole family is far away, Koshiro cares deeply for his family and wants to help them. Cheat Sheet: He may be smart, but Koshiro's screwups have cost him a year of school. He is old for a junior and may have trouble fitting in because of it. Black Sheet: Koshiro has no love for authority, for all he's trying to reform. His sullen and stubborn attitude is unlikely to endear him to superiors who could help him along, both at school and potentially in the field. Abilities: 4 + 10 + 8 + 2 + 4 + 4 = 32PP Strength: 14 (+2) Dexterity: 20 (+5) Constitution: 18 (+4) Intelligence: 12 (+1) Wisdom: 14 (+2) Charisma: 14 (+2) Combat: 12 + 12 = 24PP Initiative: +5 Attack: +6 Melee, +12 Ranged Grapple: +8 Defense: +12 (+6 Base, +6 Dodge Focus), +3 Flat-Footed Knockback: -4/-2, -2 Flat-Footed Saving Throws: 3 + 2 + 6 = 11PP Toughness: +8/+4, +4 Flat-Footed (+4 Con, +4/+0 Force Field) Fortitude: +7 (+4 Con, +3) Reflex: +7 (+5 Dex, +2) Will: +7 (+2 Wis, +6) Skills: 88R = 22PP Bluff 11 (+13, +17 Attractive) Climb 13 (+15) Skill Mastery Concentration 8 (+10)Second Chance Craft (Artistic) 9 (+10) Diplomacy 0 (+2, +6 Attractive) Disable Device 9 (+10)Second Chance Knowledge (History) 9 (+10) Languages 2 (English [Native], Japanese, Spanish) Notice 8 (+10) Skill Mastery Search 9 (+10) Skill Mastery Stealth 10 (+15) Skill Mastery Feats: 25PP Attractive Attack Focus (Ranged) 6 Challenge (Accelerated Climb) Dodge Focus 6 Hide In Plain Sight Luck 3 Move-By Action Power Attack Precise Shot Second Chance 2 (Concentration, Disable Device) Skill Mastery (Climb, Notice, Search, Stealth) Uncanny Dodge (auditory) Powers: 6 + 2 + 28 = 36PP Flight 3 (50mph / 500ft per Move Action, Extras: Affects Others, Flaws: Platform) [6PP] (Open Canopy Origami Plane, Magic) Force Field 4 (Flaws: Limited [Dodge Bonus]) [2PP] (Paper Armor, Magic) Origami Magic 12 (24PP Array, Feats: Alternate Power 4) [28PP] Base Power: Blast 8 (Extras: Autofire) [24PP] (Thousand Crane Attack) Alternate Power: Create Object 7 (STR 35 [Heavy Load: 3 tons], Extras: Movable, Feats: Indirect 2, Selective) [24PP] (Origami Sculpture Art) Alternate Power: ESP 3 (All Senses, 1,000ft, Extras: Duration [sustained], No Conduit, Simultaneous, Flaws: Action [standard], Feats: Rapid 2 [x100]) [20PP] & Communication 3 (Visual, 1,000ft, Feats: Subtle) [4PP] (Scuttling Paper Critters, some with writing) Alternate Power: Flight 3 (Rank 6, 500mph / 5,000ft [1 mile] per Move Action, Extras: Affects Others, Linked [impervious], Special [3, Buys Off Platform Flaw], Feats: Progression [subjects] 3 [10 Subjects], Subtle) [16PP] + Impervious Toughness 8 (Extras: Force Field [Free Action, Sustained Duration], Linked [Flight]) [8PP] (Closed-Body Origami Plane) Alternate Power: Move Object 8 (STR 40 [Heavy Load: 6 tons], Feats: Improved Critical [19-20], Indirect 3, Precise, Split Attack 2 [5 Targets], Subtle) [24PP] (Highly Proactive Origami) DC Block: ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed Touch DC 17 TOU (staged) Damage (Physical) Blast Ranged DC 23 TOU (staged) Damage (Physical) Create Object Ranged DC 17 REF/DC 22 TOU Trapped/Damage Move Object Ranged vs Power check/DC 23 TOU Grappled Abilities (32) + Combat (24) + Saving Throws (11) + Skills (22) + Feats (25) + Powers (36) - Drawbacks (0) = 150/225 Power Points

I don't normally do this, but I'm having some doubts about this backstory, so I thought I'd put it up for some critique. Mainly I'd like to know 1) Does it make sense, 2) is it complete enough where it counts and 3) should I lop off the first four or five paragraphs and put them in a separate News post later. I appreciate any comments. Koshiro McMillan's story really begins with the story of his family, beginning with his great-grandfather. Takeshi Watanabe was born in Chiba Prefecture in Japan in 1901. When he was twenty years old, he migrated to Hawaii, which was still open for Japanese immigration under the Gentlemen's Agreement of 1907. Just as he was getting settled there, the Immigration Act of 1924 cut off Japanese immigration entirely, leaving him with no way to bring a wife from home, and with very few marriage prospects in his new land. He moved to California from Hawaii, a common pattern at the time, and became a successful farmer. It took more than ten years, but eventually he wooed and won Tomiko Takahashi, a Nisei girl from a good family. With a farm and a wife, then healthy sons and daughters in time, it seemed as though Takeshi had overcome prejudice to achieve all of his dreams. In 1942, Takeshi, his pregnant wife and their two young children were unceremoniously kicked out of their home, taking only what they could carry with them, and loaded onto buses, first to a tent city set up in the middle of a racetrack, and then to Heart Mountain War Relocation Center in Wyoming. Natsumi Watanbe was born there on Halloween of 1942, an American citizen without a civil right to her name. It wasn't until 1945 that the Watanabe family were released to go home, with $25, a train ticket, and no apology. The farm was gone, taken by land speculators who'd profited from the misery of Japanese exclusion, and their stored property had been damaged, most of it beyond saving, by mold in the government storage facilities they'd had to use. With almost nothing left, Takeshi packed up his family and moved to Detroit, where business was booming and factory jobs were plentiful. Things were better for them in Detroit, for a good long while, anyway. Takeshi and his sons found work in the auto industry, decent jobs that let them buy homes and raise their decent Japanese families. Natsumi was the rebel in the family, falling in love and marrying a gruff and big-shouldered Scotsman named James McMillan, rather than falling in line and marrying a Japanese man. It was a family rift that never fully healed, though time put patches on the open wounds. James and Natsumi had only one child, a girl named Kameyo, born in 1970 just as things began to change in the city. Racial tensions were running high, but for once the tiny Japanese population was mostly uninvolved. Natsumi's siblings moved their families to the far suburbs, commuting to work while their growing children found education and jobs elsewhere. James was a stubborn man, though, and refused to surrender his home in the city. Kameyo was an indulged only child, growing up in relative affluence in a neighborhood where that was becoming increasingly rare. She started college in 1988 and soon met George Hamada, a handsome young Sansei man whose family was also from the West Coast. Her parents were diffident about the relationship, neither of them entirely pleased with George's self-involved attitude or his lackadaisical work ethic, but grandmother Tomiko eagerly gave her blessing and insisted on a prompt wedding so that she would be able to attend. They were married in the fall of 1989, with a son, named Takeshi after his great-grandfather, coming along just a year later. Koshiro was born in 1994, after George finished college and they were able to buy a small house. Two years later, twin girls, Suzu and Michelle, were born, at which point Kameyo decided she was definitely finished having children. Unfortunately for Koshiro and his family, his grandparents' fears about George proved well-founded. In 1998, George went away for a weekend business trip with the family car and a couple heavy suitcases and neglected to come home again. His trip was funded by most of the joint savings account, which made things very difficult for awhile. Kameyo had not finished college and she'd never held a job, but she went to work full-time in retail while the family moved into Natsumi and James' home. Nobody went hungry, but work was scarce and James' pension was bitten into several times by new labor agreements with the struggling auto plants. In 2001, James died of a sudden heart attack while tinkering with his old Mustang convertible, leaving eleven-year-old Takeshi the man of the house. Growing up, Koshiro idolized his older brother. Takeshi was smart and responsible, taking on adult duties far earlier than he should've had to and never complaining about it. He watched over his younger siblings while the women worked, inventing little games and activities to pass the time, especially when the television was cut off or the power was out entirely. He taught Koshiro the origami folds that Great-Grandmother Tomiko had taught him, and together they roamed through their neighborhood, jumping fences and peeking through windows of the increasing number of abandoned homes all around them. If Takeshi had one passion, it was for exploring abandoned buildings, a passion Koshiro shared in equal measure. In high school, Takeshi joined an informal club of urban explorers and began really getting into the abandoned infrastructure of Detroit, climbing through old buildngs and crawling through old tunnels, taking pictures and sharing the adventures on the internet. Koshiro was desperate to join in too, and after a prolonged campaign of pestering, was allowed to go on some of the missions as well. Their mother didn't approve, but it was better than taking drugs or joining a gang. Takeshi quickly became a leader in the group, and his rules were absolute. No stealing from sites, no graffiti, no vandalism. Nobody went on a mission if they weren't clean and sober. No smoking on site. Always keep in touch, always watch your step, always check in at the end of the night. Koshiro followed the rules rabidly, avoiding any of the chemical temptations that were easily available at their school for fear he'd be booted from the team. He made a niche for himself by chronicling their finds, both with a camera and a sketchpad, then scanning and posting the images. His handle online was Cagey, for his initials, which he thought was extremely clever. The start of high school sucked, between there not being enough teachers or books to go around and more than enough kids to try their luck at bullying the Japanese kid, but he didn't care. Some of the girls liked him well enough, and that was cool, really cool. Most importantly, Takeshi had passed up scholarships at more prestigious schools to stay at home and go to Wayne State, so everything important was going to stay the way it was. Except it didn't. Just after the start of Koshiro's sophomore year in 2009, everything changed. Takeshi went out one warm fall evening to get intel on an old building they were thinking of exploring, a cool old brick thing that had once been a lab or library or something scientific like that. There was probably tons of cool stuff still laying around in there. Koshiro wanted to go with, but he was stuck inside babysitting for the twin pains while Mom worked the back to school late shift. He made sure the girls both went to bed on time and waited up, fooling with a new origami design, for Takeshi to get home so he could upload the pics. But Takeshi never came home. Mom got home and was frantic, the police were called, but they weren't good for a damn thing except making stupid theories and having stupid opnions. They found Takeshi's gear outside the brick building and decided he'd gone in exploring like some stupid amateur kid and fallen through the outside deck into the retaining pond outside. Either that, or he'd decided to take off and laid a false trail to keep anyone from following him. Dragging the pond didn't produce a body, but it didn't change the official line either. The police didn't care about some dumb poor kid who'd been going places he should never have been. The case was left open, but cold. Koshiro couldn't understand any of what had happened, and all he could feel was rage. Why had Takeshi gone without him? Why didn't the police listen when he told them that Takeshi would never have left his gear, never have gone inside without a team? Why didn't anybody give a damn that his brother was gone, maybe dead? Why was everything so screwed up? Without an anchor or a rudder, all the annoyances and problems that he'd been able to ignore rushed over him and swamped him, and soon he was getting into fights at school, staying out late, ignoring his family, and generally making a real halfass-badass out of himself. In the spring, he broke the final set of rules and went exploring by himself, back to the brick building where his brother had disappeared. He broke a window to get inside and scoured the place, bitterly disappointed when it was burned out inside, empty of history, of clues, of proof of anything. The only thing he found was an oddly-untouched perfectly square book, sitting on a blackened shelf in an empty room. He picked it up, but the pages inside were blank, another dead end. Disappointed and angry, he shoved the book into his bag and left, just in time to run into the one cop actually out patrolling Detroit at this hour of the night. He got put on probation for the trespassing and ordered to make restitution for the window, though nobody knew exactly who he was supposed to pay, but it was largely a formality. By the fall he was in trouble again, fighting with some jackasses at school who thought they could talk about his brother, and he was packed up and sent to juvie. At least there, he figured, his mom didn't have to pay for his meals and school supplies. Being locked up, away from his family, his computer, everything that was familiar and comfortable, took a lot of the fight out of him pretty quickly. He knew he'd screwed up badly, and he'd disappointed everyone who cared about him. Takeshi would be ashamed to see what he'd done. Koshiro didn't shape up overnight, but he did shape up, ignoring the jerks and druggies and bangers all around him and withdrawing into his own reserve. He stopped getting into fights, and people started to leave him alone. He was surprised one day to find the square book in a package from home, tucked in along with his sketchbook and pencils. Mom must have thought it was another blank drawing book, but the pages were too thin, almost like rice paper. They were terrible for drawing, but actually really good for origami. Koshiro began pulling pages out of the book and folding them into little cranes, four or sometimes sixteen to a page. A thousand perfect cranes was worth a wish, if one believed origami superstition, and he had plenty of wishes. Most of all, he wanted to make his brother proud, wherever he was, whatever had happened. Even though he knew it was stupid, he folded assiduously, counted fanatically, and as he folded the thousandth crane, sitting in his bunk late at night, he kept expecting something to happen. anything. He carefully bent beak and tail into shape, crimped the tiny wings, and held it in the palm of his hand, staring at it. A perfect paper crane, perfectly ordinary. Perfectly dumb. He muttered a curse and started to close his hand around the little sculpture and crush it, when suddenly it moved in his hand. He froze, sure he'd imagined it, but then it happened again. It bobbed its head inquisitively, stretched its wings, waggled its paper tail and then took flight! Koshiro watched open-mouthed as it careened around the room, flapping its little paper wings. Quickly he opened the shoebox that contained the rest of his collection, plucking one up at random. As soon as his fingers touched it, that one, too, took flight, followed by another, than another. In moments, an entire flock of paper cranes was wheeling around the room. He had a few bad moments before realizing that he could control them even once they'd left his hand, including making them go back in the box before anyone else saw. The next few days saw him consumed with trying to understand and harness this new and strange power. The cranes were just the beginning. If he folded a plane, it flew around making little "vroom" noises and dodging around obstacles until he plucked it out of the air. If he folded an elephant, it trumpeted and lumbered across his bunk, denting the mattress with weight that it couldn't possibly have. The one time he folded a waterbomb, it began ticking ominously until he hastily unfolded it again. Everything he made came to life and did what he wanted. It was weird... but it was also beyond cool. He had a secret superpower! If he practiced enough, got good enough, who knew what he'd be able to do? Practicing in his room was all well and good, but he needed to get outside where he could see how high and fast and far his creations could actually go. With the box of cranes under his arm one hot summer day, he set out for the exercise yard, knowing no one else would want to leave the air conditioning. On the way, though, he ran into trouble. The bullies were leaving him alone these days, but not everyone was so lucky. Three of them were ganging up on a kid Koshiro knew a little, a harmless kid, slow in the brains, who was pretty much only in juvie because the rest of his gang used him as the fall guy when they'd got caught robbing a convenience store. Koshiro confronted them, which in retrospect was not wise since he didn't know how to fight, and all he did was draw their attention. In the space of an instant, though, the shoebox exploded open with the force of two-thousand beating wings, and the bullies were swept backwards by a wave of paper cranes, right in front of the whole crowd who'd gathered to watch the fight. The secret was out. First thing the next morning, Koshiro was called into the superintendent's office. He wasn't shackled for the trip, which seemed like a good sign, though the guards carefully searched him for paper. The superintendent, who seemed rather uneasy, listened carefully to Koshiro's side of the story, then told him that this detention center wasn't the place for him. He would be looking for that place, a place to train him in his new abilities, get him on the right track, just as soon as possible. In the meantime, though, Koshiro was not to cause any trouble. Cheered by the prospect of getting out of detention soon, Koshiro had little trouble agreeing to that. He was a little more ambivalent later, when it turned out he'd be going all the way to Freedom City, but it was still better than juvie.

Even as Midnight pulled back his sticks, Wander was moving in, the precise and fluid timing the result of many hours of practice. Given the odds and the fact that the Nazi was in sorry shape already, she considered demanding his surrender, but then she saw him eyeing the undamaged side of the plane like he was looking to escape. That was the last thing they needed. There was no room to unfold her bat in the narrow aisles, so she simply stepped around Edge's wayward seat and drew her bat, using it like a nightstick as she deftly smacked the Nazi on each size of his bald head, then once at the base of his neck, all within the space of a moment, sending the giant crashing down.

Okay, everybody got a chance to poke the Nazi, now he can go night-night. All-out power attack, with the bat, he is flat-footed, autofire is in play, yadda yadda.

"Trying to get the shot for the first time was kind of rough," Erin admitted with a wry twist to her lips. "They tried to just do it with a super-strong intern and a titanium needle, and you see what happened. Didn't really work so well." She rolled her shoulders, raised a hand to the spot where the tiny piece of metal still lay. "Eventually someone suggested they just pop a nullfier on me for a couple of hours, long enough to get the shot and let it metabolize. That worked way better. Reminds me I'm due for another booster at the end of this month. I'll have to find someplace to go and get it, I guess."

Erin raised an expressive eyebrow in Trevor's direction, but remained otherwise still to allow the scanner to do its work. She jumped when the unit's harsh alarm klaxon went off, indicating the presence of metal in her body as the ring traveled past her shoulders. Tense, she watched the monitors as an image resolved, not a nanite colony but a tiny cylinder of metal, pointed on one end, in her left biceps. Erin stared at it for a moment, then let out a burst of half-frustrated laughter. "God, no wonder those stupid birth control shots hurt so much. They broke off the damn needle in my arm."

Erin sat back on her heels, looking around the shattered dreamscape. "No," she finally decided. "Pathos scares me, but I'm not afraid of you. It matters less... less that you could, and more that you wouldn't," she explained, struggling to put the right words together. "I mean, I could attack you in your sleep and really hurt you before you had any chance to stop me. I could kill almost anybody we know with one or two hits. And that scares me, but it doesn't scare, say, Trevor, or you, because you trust me more than I trust myself. I think it sort of comes with the having superpowers thing," she admitted with a shrug. The artifact Alex had was a small one, a broken door handle, with a brief and nasty memory attached. She didn't see it the way Erin would have, as a real and visceral memory, but she could clearly perceive what it was. Singularity had escaped from her confinement in the white box once, killed several guards, and made it nearly to the outside doors before being brought under control by Pathos. That memory was buried behind a construct where she'd left the box only to be overwhelmed by the forces of the Tyranny Syndicate, who gave her a severe beating before tossing her back in the box with no chance of escape, ever. The construct was almost a perfunctory one, as though it had been repeated many times over.

Wander had plenty of experience creating makeshift shelters, though never out of the broken remnants of someone's mind before. She tried to follow Alex's lead and treat it like a real-world construction project, but it was hard when little bits of herself kept peeking up through the rubble. She made the mistake of picking one up, a plastic makeup kit she'd gotten for her thirteenth birthday, and was suddenly rocketed into another place and time. It was Erin's birthday party sleepover, and she'd just gotten her first makeup kit, so it was time for makeovers! Her best friend Kathi insisted she knew what she was doing, so with much giggling, the birthday girl was put into a chair for the royal treatment. With her eyes closed, Erin could feel hands on her face, in her hair, gentle and friendly at first, but soon growing harder, more insistent, pulling her hair and poking at her skin. She protested and opened her eyes, only to find herself inches away from the snapping jaws of a zombified Kathi, lunging for her throat! "Jesus," Wander croaked, dropping the plastic box back to the floor. "That's not how it happened. But it seemed so real." Even now, a tiny nagging doubt played in the corner of her own mind. She hadn't seen Kathi die, hadn't seen Kathi as a zombie... had she?

"It's a way she can show her power," Wander guessed. "Assault can break things in the real world, and Hex can make buildings explode by looking at them. The Blank prefers subtlety, like Midnight does, but he can still make weapons and wreck things. Most of Pathos' most effective and scary powers are invisible. Maybe that frustrates her." She cocked her head and listened. "I think she's stopped running." They followed the gallery into another wing, this one more dimly lit, cast in mysterious blue shadows from a light source that was impossible to identify. There were ruins here as well, but it seemed different. Some of the debris had been rearranged, pulled around and piled up in one corner in a way that was just a bit too deliberate to be accidental. It looked almost like a scrap treehouse, or perhaps the junkyard dwelling of a homeless person. The exhibits in this hall were empty, whatever they had contained had been removed and secreted elsewhere. "How do you want to play it?"

"It's okay," Wander said in a louder voice, still not looking directly at the pitiful form of her double. "You can go if you want, we're not going to hurt you." It wasn't clear whether Singularity actually believed that, but she broke from the crouch and ran, through the hole in the broken wall and into the rooms beyond. The colors in the rotunda immediately became more washed out, the lines less distinct, even as things on the other side brightened into life with the sudden attention of their owner. Wander gave Singularity a moment, then followed her through the hole. The museum theme was continued here, a gallery of ruined exhibits, arranged down both sides of a long hallway. In the exhibits, Erin recognized artifacts and pictures and dioramas from her own life, all with the protective glass broken to allow easy access. Despite her earlier resolve, she couldn't bring herself to look closer and see what had been done to them. In the distance, she could hear the echo of running feet as Singularity retreated further. "So is each of these like a memory?" she asked Alex, looking around. "Or like a mental metaphor for some memory? I don't see the inside of my mind this way... but I guess I've never taken a tour of it like this, either."

"Younger than that," Erin murmured. "I haven't been that short since I was thirteen or fourteen. Before anything bad happened." She tensed as Alex released her control, putting a hand on the bat at her belt that naturally appeared when she expected it to be there. Four times out of five, Singularity chose flight over fighting when she hadn't been wound up beforehand, but there was always that fifth time. Singularity didn't snap to attention as Psyche's grip relaxed, but gradually blinked and shifted, as though coming out of a deep daydream. She rubbed her face, then stiffened all over when she caught sight of the intruders. Looking around, Singularity realized that they were already inside her mind, had gotten in somehow while she was distracted. Pathos was back, Pathos was back... The entire mental structure shuddered with the force of that knowledge, sending a rain of plaster and ceramic tiles showering from the ceiling. Her opportunity to fight had been lost already, there was really nothing that could be done, but even so, she hunkered down small in the booth and began to creep away, as though if she were small and quiet enough, she might escape notice in her own mind. Wander kept her gaze partially averted from her counterpart and watched from the corner of her eye, much as she would when hunting rabbits or squirrels. "Let her go?" she asked Psyche, sotto voce

Erin had barely stood up in her seat when Edge came barreling towards her, seat and all, headed for the gaping doorway and the sky beyond. She caught him as easily as if he were a pop fly at third base, wedging his seat into the aisle where it wouldn't come loose. The instant of distraction was enough for her to lose track of Trevor, but that didn't last long. She smiled a little to see Midnight teaching von Streitcher some healthy fear, then turned her full attention to the most immediate danger. The door to the plane wasn't entirely gone as she'd feared, but it was close, hanging from the hatch by a single metal clasp that was already badly warped. Holding her breath, she leaned out of the plane and snagged the emergency handle, using every bit of her considerable strength to fight weight and wind and air pressure to bring the door back to its place. Her face turned red with the strain, but for a long moment, the door didn't move. Spots exploded in front of her eyes as she redoubled her efforts, and suddenly the door was in motion, swinging back into the hatch and settling back into place in one rush that sent her nearly staggering. She held onto the handle and gasped for air, ignoring the combat for a moment.

Wander is going to use her move action to set Edge down and get to the door, which she will attempt to haul back into place and secure. Despite much begging and wrangling, this is a raw strength check, DC 30 First roll fails! Spending an HP! Second roll is a critical success! That's a 35.

Wander goes on Initiative 18 She makes the Acrobatics with Skill Mastery. She cannot succeed in the Gather Info check She cannot fail the Fortitude Save. If she is in the exit row and it is a possible interpretation of the rules, she will interpose to prevent anyone from being sucked out of the plane.

"I'm a florist," Fleur told him with a laugh, leading the way to an old and somewhat sketchy-looking elevator. She didn't entirely like the look of it, but she wasn't walking to the fourth floor when Ammy was already whimpering again. "In this culture, people often use flowers and plants as part of the celebration of important events. When they hire me, I provide them with beautiful floral arrangements and whatever else they need to make their day special. It doesn't pay as much money as might be useful to have, but we have all we really need." She guided him into the elevator and showed him how to work the buttons, then nudged him out again on the fourth floor. "We wan the second door on the left," she instructed, "Number 404."

Erin squeezed Trevor's fingers lightly as she settled into her own roomy seat. "Tough to drive over the Atlantic," she pointed out, "though I wouldn't put it past you. It's just for a few hours, and at least we're going in style." She poked approvingly at a few of the seat controls, turning on the seatback television and reclining her chair a couple of inches in the process. "Kind of weird that there are so many heroes on this flight," she observed in a murmur. "I wonder if the airline somehow groups them all together on purpose. In case somebody's nemesis attacks or something." That rumination probably wouldn't help Trevor any, but it was out before she could censor it.

"So she could just, like, sit here and see into any part of that Erin's mind she wanted?" Wander grimaced, running her hands up and down her own arms. "That's so creepy." She shook herself, trying to maintain her composure and taking a cue from Psyche to do so. They both had to concentrate on fixing things, rather than what was wrong. The largest door swung open silently, allowing them to walk out of the booth and into the entryway of Singularity's mind. It swung shut behind them and disappeared. The place they came out in was a strange room, half-lit and tumbledown, looking like the remnants of a large rotunda with a vaulted ceiling. The ceiling was full of cracks now, the floor littered with rubble and shattered glass. Wander abruptly realized what it looked like, the main entrance of the Seattle Art Museum, though in a much reduced state now. It looked as though at some point in the past, there had been a siege defense mounted here, with the remains of boards nailed across the frames of doors that hung from their hinges and overturned furniture pushed out of the way of hallways. One wall had a massive hole hacked into it, as though made with sledgehammer and pickaxe, providing free access to the rooms beyond. Off to one side, Singularity was sitting at the docent's booth, staring straight ahead at nothing. She was still very young in her self-perception, the Erin of EZO1 in better days, for all she wore her blue prison coverall and had hair that was hacked short and uneven. She didn't seem to register their presence at all right away, rocking slightly in the grip of Psyche's power.