Gizmo
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"Shit!" Lou started to bolt after Sofí only to have to abruptly change his momentum to catch the hacker's gadgets instead, nearly tripping over his own scuffed oxfords. He held the equipment awkwardly in his big hands, unclear which parts were delicate or not. "Why would any of us lick it? I've gotta very short list of things I am ever willing to lick and none of that qualifies." He did his best to gesture at the house as a whole but was largely thwarted by having his hands full. "Where d'you even keep all this? Look, fine. Just control your pixy stix high and take your whatever-this-is and I'll go knock on the door like the closest thing to a #$%@ normal person standing here. Then Alice can tell Xavier why everything went to hell later."
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"Nobody's touching it! Chrissakes." Lou had spent the last few minutes distractedly taking his sunglasses off then putting them back on, trying to find which state would make the mansion less obnoxious to look at. It didn't help that he had to keep his head on a swivel, watching out for the sort of threats the two hyper-focused women tended to miss once something caught their interest. "You think I'm gonna copy weirdo haunted house bricks? That sounds like it ends somewhere fun to you? Turn myself into a dracula or whatever, %$#& off." He settled on shoving the sunglasses into the jacket pocket of his rumbled slate grey suit and pointed an accusatory finger at the offending building. "You don't invest in whatever the hell that is 'cause you're worried about thieves. That's what you get when you don't want visitors and you get tired of the hassle disposing the bodies."
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"An inhuman monster, aye, yet as well a gift to modern comedy," Set snorted, turning her phone around to reveal a scrolling timeline of the same slightly pixelated photo of their foe repeated over and over, each time superimposed with different text in white block letters. 'Ombre Shadowdark'. 'Mr. Bad Baddington McBadBad.' 'Lacey Blackundewear, Esq.' Evidently the jokes practically wrote themselves and her followers were more than happy to put in the remaining work. "Obviously yesterday was... challenging but I'm decreeing from this moment: today shall be a good day." A snap of the godling's fingers turned her bandeau a matte black with crimson trim while adding a conspicuous level of support. Her shendyt was replaced by a red plaid miniskirt and torn fishnets while sandals became footwear that was more belt and buckle than actual boot. Kohl became a full-on smokey eye, lip colour darkened another few shades and a sleeve tattoo of stylized hieroglyphics traced its way down her right arm. Sekhmet's outfit resolved into a pair of stonewashed black jeans that maintained their hip-hugging shape despite the numerous holes torn in them and an off-shoulder zebra pattern top with a ripped, ab-revealing bottom edge. She cleared her throat meaningfully and a leather jacket with a roaring lion head embroidered in gold was added to the ensemble. Satisfied, the goddess proceed to roll the sleeve up past her elbows. Removing the clasp from her dreadlocks and shaking them out to full volume, Set considered Temperance. "May I...?" Another snap of her fingers transfigured the elementalist's navy pea coat. Jet black now, it draped down to ankle length with an attached hood shrouded the top half of Eliza's face in shadow. Black ribbon laced through silver rings across the small of her back, cinching the coat like a corset. White and ice blue blended across her lips in a striking imitation of rime, contrasting with the light-devouring folds of the coat. "I present... black ice! Shall we?"
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Erik raised both hands, black shirt only halfway on. "Woah, hey, I'm sorry. I thought I was talking to my wife, the unparalleled badass super spy fascist fighting master thief world travelling ex-con real estate baroness move-making name-taking hip-shaking absolute MILF superhero." Stepping closer he folded his arms around Talya's waist and pressed his forehead against her own. "Did you happen to see which way she went? I swear she was just here." He tilted his chin to kiss her, long enough and hard enough to test the staying power of her lip colour. When he broke apart her remained close enough that his voice was a warm whisper against her cheek. "You, not unlike a certain milkshake they talk about, bring plenty. I was just worried you were going to be bored, cielo."
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Erik slipped into the pants easily enough, theatrically raising one knee at a time to work some additional movement into the stiff material. "Shade too tight, she says. I get it, I'm just the arm candy tonight. So tragically put-upon!" The swordsman continued to dress while heaving dramatic sighs and periodically striking poses. Master of body language that she was, Talya didn't miss that he was also watching her expression. "So... probably a dumb question but if there's nobody we like going to this thing and nobody you think is interesting and nobody I'm supposed to punch, you're still sure you want to go? 'Cause you've kinda been talking about it like the sort of holiday staff party you lie about a visiting aunt to avoid."
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"Hey, fraternizing is a young man's game," Erik objected over her shoulder as he pulled up the zipper, a little more slowly than was really necessary. "If anything this is canoodling. Or possibly being in cahoots. Canoodloots. Oodles of cadoodles. I'm not great at conjugation." Gracefully sidestepping around to Talya's front before she could turn around herself he gave her a lopsided grin that was equal parts reassuring and pleased with his own ridiculous joke. "People are already jealous of my phenomenal ass, they can be jealous when I'm spotted on the arm of history's greatest cat burglar, too." He glanced over at the clothes laid out on the bed and rubbed the back of his head. "I'm a little less sure about the outfit..."
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"I got done with being told my community needed to be discreet in the sixties, Ms. Summers," LaMarr fired back flatly, a twitch in his jaw betraying a raw emotional nerve. "How 'complicated' does jokers with guns following kids around in a white van have to get before it seems like a good idea?" The high school teacher's voice began to raise over the background din of the city street and the headmistress was close enough to hear knuckles pop as superdense musculature clenched. He seemed to hear the sound himself and took a half step backward, further out of her personal space, as he collected himself. LaMarr closed his eyes behind his sunglasses for a brief moment and let out a long breath through his nose. "If you're gonna play the community card I had best like what I hear next. I ain't known for staying quiet so some rich daddy can save face." He gestured for Summers to lead wherever she wanted to go to speak further.
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"You're trying to tell me those amateurs were, what? Embassy security? Secret service?" The wry smile pulling at LaMarr's lips fell as Summers failed to correct his incredulous supposition."So you've got vans full of fools with the subtlety of a backhand across the face staking out movie theatres with assault weapons so some prince or whatever can have low key a semester abroad? Somebody signed off on that?" He raised his eyebrows over the tops of his sunglasses and made a sweeping gesture to underline his disapproval. "Sorry if I don't keep up with the royal wedding tabloid cycle but who's parents wouldn't settle for getting their name on a new wing of your school?" He'd dealt with plenty of accents in his day and the gunmen hadn't given much away, even when he startled them. Probably Americans who'd been hired for the job, then.
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LaMarr stared long and hard at the capitulating mercenaries and the STAR Squad presence before letting out a long, irritated breath through his nose and following after Summers. The sedan didn't do much to conceal him from view but he turned as far away from the scene as he could while keeping it in his peripheral vision. "Those turkeys aren't even seeing the inside of a holding cell, are they? They were more embarrassed than they were worried about getting locked up." He folded his arms across his broad chest. LaMarr didn't know Summers very well but he'd known more than enough principals in his day and he knew all about the wheeling and dealing for funding and prestige that went with the job. "Whatever the play is here one of my kids almost got caught in the middle of it. Wouldn't mind an explanation."
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Daniel made a sort of indistinct grumbling in response to the teasing while tracing a circle in the air with a brusque flick of his wrist. As he did so a ring of white-blue fire sprang into being parallel to the dormitory floor, not so dissimilar from the crown that had sprung up around Abby's head earlier. Rummaging around inside his coat he withdrew a stack of weathered and dented tin cups which certainly shouldn't have fit in his pockets. Glancing up at the second Liz for a moment he released the cups to float weightlessly and slowly spinning over the circle of flame and pulled out a sixth after a bit of searching. "The one on the bottom has chocolate, cookie and other junk," he told Abby, gesturing to the stack of presents with his chin. Daniel didn't have much of a taste for sweets or processed foods in general but had always taken careful note of his foster daughters' favourites and seemed convinced they wouldn't be able to get them while away from home. That done he accepted Liz's hand. "Good for you. That old goat is no joke. Glad Abby's rooming with someone with some guts." Daniel's hand was unbelievably weathered, scars over scars and callouses over callouses. Still, his handshake was warm and gentle, careful not to squeeze the teen's hand too tightly.
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"He'd probably say he's just the one dumb enough to always be in the room when they're looking for volunteers," Kimber laughed brightly, floating by the kitchen counter with her legs crossed, "but that's just because he's bad at taking compliments, so thank you, Aquaria. He does pretty well." The poltergeist telekinetically ruffled Abby's hair from across the room, sticking her tongue out at her foster sister. "How's class? You finish any homework? Abby's always done really well in school," she told the rest of the room, sliding a little through the air to make room for Daphne's stretching arm, even if it would have passed through her immaterial form without issue. "And she's a writer."
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The door opened and a tall, muscular brunette with a prominent white streak in her hair stepped inside. Becky had a bright red puffer jacket bundled up under one arm, some of the seams visibly split open; her cream coloured knit sweater had survived in better shape. The other arm hefted a stack of packages wrapped in cheerful snowman themed paper. "Never a dull moment, eh?" Facing Abby with their arms in the air it was difficult for Kimber to miss the slight blush and she looked over her shoulder toward Liz before releasing her foster sister's wrists and floating a little further into the dormitory to make room. "Becky, this is Liz, Abby's roommate." "Why did you say it like that?" a gruff, masculine voice asked. Daniel didn't even come up to Becky's shoulder unless you counted the top of his wild mane of black hair but the outdoorsman was nearly as broad as he was tall. Evidently the winter chill hadn't bothered him with just a t-shirt under his leather jacket; his weathered skin suggested he'd be at home in far more extreme conditions than that. "Don't worry about it," Becky was quick to respond, raising an eyebrow in Kimber's direction before giving the teenager a broad grin of very slightly pointed teeth. "It's nice to meet you, Liz. Love your hair." "Ohmigoodness, they were roommates," Kimber whispered under her breath. "Stop."
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LaMarr watched the man in the overalls impassively for several beats. It seemed polite to at least give him a chance to put his cards on the table. When it became clear that wasn't going to happen the veteran hero sighed heavily. "At least you have your custodial skills to fall back on when this whole 'creeping on children from a white van full of armed turkeys' gig doesn't pan out." Crouching slightly he hooked one hand under the van's rear bumper before lifting it up to shoulder height, holding the vehicle at a forty-five degree angle. "You got a Plan B here or are we gonna find out how good your pals are at handstands?"
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Kimber made a thoughtful noise and floated back far enough to hold Abby at arm's length and give her a once over. "Psychosomatic soulmarks can manifest with different strong emotions." The ghost tilted her head, lips turning downward in a concerned frown until her eye lit up with a sudden idea. "Oh ho, are you embarrassed? Am I embarrassing you?" Catching Abby's wrists Kimber raised them high into the air and waved them back and forth as though the teenager were flailing in comical distress. "Oooooh nooooo, the mooooost embarrassing!" There came three rapid knocks on the dorm room door and Kimber called, "Just a second, I'm busy embarrassing Abby!" "Checks out," a voice agreed from outside in the hallway.
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"Sorry! Lost track of time!" a voice called with odd reverberation just before Kimber appeared floated through the nearest wall, schooling her mussed hair back into place with both hands. The poltergeist had picked out a sky blue pantsuit with wide flared pant legs and sleeves, the neckline of the closed jacket plunging down to the base of her translucent sternum. "Abby, you made it!" She zipped over to give the teen a big hug before turning around, one arm over Abigail's shoulders. "Mali, this was such a good idea! Can I help with anything? Does anyone need anything?"
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LaMarr parted his lips to begin answering the understandably nervous manager but paused. He'd taken plenty of private security and investigation jobs over the decades and that meant more stakeouts than he could count. He knew the difference between someone sizing him up because they were a fool looking for a fight and someone sizing him up because they were a professional fool looking for a fight. He straightened and glanced over his right shoulder at a woman sitting in the lobby wearing a never-been-worn tracksui, looking directly at him and speaking quickly into her phone, who was suddenly much more interested in the movie posters on the walls he began to turn around. Back out through the glass doors of the theatre a man in navy blue overalls leaned against a nondescript white van with a more conspicuous antenna mounted on the roof. Also on his phone, also looking directly at LaMarr. To his credit this one didn't visibly react as the high school teacher lowered his sunglasses enough to make direct eye contact across the lobby and into the parking lot, he simply tossed his cigarette on the pavement, ground it out with the toe of his boot and headed to the back of the van to open the door and climb inside. Presumably he figured the distance was far enough that LaMarr wouldn't recognize the outline of someone else sitting in the back of the van was bulked out by body armour before the doors closed behind him. "That's a good call, Larry," he agreed without turning back around. "Maybe you got somebody seasoned who could keep an eye, huh? Excuse me a minute." He began striding purposefully back outside, catching Kendrick's attention and gesturing with his chin for the teen to move further away from the theatre's entrance. Long strides eating up the distance he pounded a fist three times against the side of the van, hard enough to make a racket but not hard enough to dent the paneling. "Nobody ever talk to you about littering? They got ashtrays right over there."
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Wail Notice Check: 1d20+20 40 So...
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"Oh! Oh, Button!" Kimber rushed back to Abigail's side, clipping through a nightstand and the corner of Liz's bed as though they were thin air. The poltergeist pulled her foster sister into a tight hug, one hand pressing Abigail's head under her chin and against her bosom. "I'm so sorry we weren't here sooner! I tried cutting through Duat to get around the barrier but that wasn't working at all and I said we should call Tarva but Dan was being Dan about it and the wendigo really doesn't like Giant Krampus I guess so Becky was on edge and got into an argument with one of the Leaguers and--" She paused abruptly and blinked at Abigail's roommate, not letting the anxious teen go. "Have we actually met? I don't think we've met. Sorry! Hi! I'm Abby's sister, Kimber! Whatever you're doing with the punctuation in the air is adorable, by the way."
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As if on cue Abby's rambling was interrupted by the appearance of a translucent blue woman floating through the adjoining wall their dormitory room shared with its neighbour. She wore a cowl necked sweater dress and held a wicked looking scythe with a blade that Liz could see was somehow simultaneously pitch black and polished to a mirror sheen as it cut through the air a handspan from her nose. "Abby! Ohmigoodness, there you are!" the spectre gushed, bouncing slightly in the air as her weapon vanished with a flick of her wrist. She grabbed the teen by the shoulders and looked her over with apparent concern. "Are you okay? You didn't get hurt?" She placed the back of one hand against Abby's forehead and frowned. "Did you catch something? You're all red!" Before a response could be given she broke away and sped to the closed window, sticking her head through the solid glass to call down to the ground. "Dan! You can stop scaring the jams out of that boy! I found her!" There was a muffled response from below and she threw up her hands in exasperation. "You're interrogating a literal baby! Becky, make him be nice!" Another brief pause, then, "Oh no, sweetie, I'm sure you're a totally rad tough dude!" She quickly pulled her head back into the room and spun about the face the two girls with an emphatic wince. "Whoops! Boys can be so sensitive! I'm sure he'll be fine, probably."
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LaMarr considered Kendrick to be a levelheaded enough young man to have been out the door after the first text message but he picked up his pace after the follow-up call. There were a few competing narratives floating around about what had happened with that group of students from Claremont Academy and the Murder League at the end of 2017 but it had been enough to stir up fears of abduction in the metahuman community that hadn't completely settled down. He'd been around when kids with powers and no support system seemed to drop off the face of the Earth any time you turned around. Besides, he trusted a creep in a suit about as far as... well, as far as someone else could thrown them. He arrived at the theatre in a mustard coloured sweater vest over a tailored aubergine shirt and gave the youth in the mascot costume a reassuring clap on the shoulder before striding up to the ticket booth. "How you doing? Keith LaMarr." he nodded to the employee behind the desk before leaning forward very slightly, conscious of his own imposing silhouette. "I'm told a joker in a suit followed a bunch of high school kids into a cartoon show a little bit ago and I'm betting that didn't sit any better with you than it did with me. Not here to start any drama on your shift but I'd like to keep an eye on that, just in case. Cool?"
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Keith LaMarr squinted down at the hefty brick of plastic in his palm and frowned. The aging high school teacher's eyesight was thankfully sharp as ever but the last decade or so of cellphone trends hadn't been designed with a man of his size in mind, let alone one with superdense musculature. Wafer thin slabs of glass and aluminum were completely out of the question and the more rugged alternatives featured foldout keyboards with buttons apparently sized for infants so far as he could tell. All of which was fine by him; the phone in his hand had numbers, a microphone and a speaker because it was a damn phone and if anyone still knew how to make a damn phone call it wouldn't have been a problem. The third time he accidentally pressed the '7' too many times and skipped past the 'S' he made a low rumbling noise that rattled the empty coffee cups on his desk. Finally he jabbed the little green receiver button and brought the phone up to his ear. "If it'd been text 1-800-JUSTICE we wouldn't have gotten a single fool thing done. Who's in trouble?"
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The answer, as always, is asking social media. Set Gather Information check: 1d20+16 36 With Contacts and Well Informed for the sake of time. What's a more heroic synonym for 'doxxing'..?
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Without any particular fanfare Set had adopted her female form in the morning, kohl eye makeup helping a bit to hide the signs that she'd gotten little sleep the night before. The godling tucked her phone away in a manner that improbably failed to ruin the lines of her bandeau and hopped out of the room's armchair to her feet. "Storming!" she voted, reaching one arm across her torso and using the other as a lockbar to deepen the stretch. She turned her head quizzically toward Sekhmet, brick red dreadlocks bouncing with the movement. "Storming?" The taller goddess responded with a preternaturally deep rumble from the back of her throat and a fist thrown into her own palm. Set turned back to the deliberating group and nodded decisively, switching to stretch her other arm. "Storming."
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Set had bodily collapsed into the room’s armchair, looking generally sorry for himself. He glanced up as Strix stepped out of the bathroom and made a small sound of inspiration. “Ah, a wise strategy.” The godling snapped his fingers and in a brief flash of divine power the sodden remenents of everyone’s outfits had been replaced with heavy white bathrobes, each monogrammed with a hyroglph. Even Strix’s robe had become noticeably more plush and bore a little stitched bird over the left breast. Sekhmet didn’t bat an eye at the costume change but did frown at Lynn’s shot glasses, clearly finding their diminutive size insufficient.
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Sekhmet carried Lynn up the stairs and through the first floor of the building without comment, having no objection to the proposed destination nor desire to remain in the ichor tainted puddles. She paused as she stepped out onto the sidewalk, glancing down at Set's burnt form slumped against the brick wall and wrinkling her nose. "Aaaay..." the godling greeted in a raspy crackle, robbed of his usual melodiousness. He raised a fist toward Sekhmet, shaking it weakly for a moment until the index finger popped back into place with a crack and the gesture became recognizable as a finger-gun. She did not quite manage to suppress a wince, though her expression schooled itself back into stoicism quickly enough. "Need I carry thee, also?" Set blew out a short breath that turned into a cough, frowned and tried again, successfully making a dismissive huff. "Phaw, look I not --hhk, ghn-- unto the very picture of health?" A bald patch on his scalp visibly filled in with red hair as he spoke. "Thy own congealed lifeblood pools about thy ass." He looked down as the sticky stains on the concrete, obscured somewhat by the blackened scorch marks of lightning strikes. "Tis but a scratch." With a grunt of effort Set lurched upward, less like an injured man standing up and more like a marionette being yanked unceremoniously off of a shelf. Stumbling back and forth unsteadily he rolled his shoulders loudly and did a very poor job of leaning nonchalantly against the nearest utility pole. "Again I say: aaaay."
