Raveled
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The girls stared at Warren for a moment before one giggled and another rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah," she said sarcastically. "Great club, you know? And a great location! Not too close to town, but it's really close to home." With every word the girls giggled more and more, and Warren's face turned redder and redder. "My parents don't even ask a question when I come out here!" "Yeah, it's a great place," Warren said, feeling sluggish and embarrassed. "So do you want to dance, or?" "Oh yeah! I'd love to dance. Just waiting for, you know, someone I want to dance with." Most of the posse laughed at that, even if they did seem a bit uncomfortable with the continued needling. "Right, well, I hope you run into him." Warren walked away from the group, wandering back towards the dance floor as the next song spun up. He had never been a great dancer, but he tried a few moves as the music swelled fast and loud. He found himself dancing next to a tiny, tiny woman who would occasionally dart away and back faster than his eyes could follow. "Hey!" he shouted at her over the music. "I'm Warren! Heck of a party, right?"
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Warren felt weird, and excited, and stiff, and afraid. He was standing in an auditorium -- standing! Without being short of breath or leaning on crutches or anything! He was standing in a room full of people his own age and there were no doctors on call, there was no antiseptic hospital smell, there wasn't even his parents anywhere in sight. That last one brought a pang when he remembered why exactly his father wasn't around, but Warren buried that deep. He was going to have fun here, dammit! He walked up to a girl, one in a knot of girls. They were wearing skirts and blouses and jewelry and probably some kind of shoes, but Warren was just trying to focus on his words. "Hey there, ladies," he said, doing his best to project confidence. "Some great music tonight, right? You, uh, you come around this place often?"
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Who goes where!?
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Does this guy have a consistent code name/supername? What about a regular uniform? Can you see this guy in a comic book? Can you see him teaming up with Wonder Woman or Captain America?
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Richard's appearance raised a cry from the sentries when he stepped out of the forest. Muskets were raised to point at him, orders were yelled, and several more armed natives stepped out of their longhouses. One native in particular stepped up to Richard, almost jabbing him in the chest with the longarm. "Stay back, white man," he snarled. "We've seen what your kind of people do to us!" The Indians examining the body started walking towards the confrontation, a pair of elders in heavy cloaks trailing behind everyone else. A loose crowd began forming around Richard, the Indians having dark expressions on their faces. ------------------- Back in the clearing, Asli shook her head and glanced back towards the town. "I don't know," she said. "If you can tell me where your house is, I can go find your husband, get your entire town. We can... Me and Richard, we can take your family somewhere else. Up to Boston, or down to the Carolinas, or even all the way to Quebec if you think you'll have a better time in Canada. I didn't... mean to make things harder for you." Sarah shook her head, stroking her son's hair and calming the boy down. "The people are looking for Indians, right? Then they won't hurt my husband." It took a moment for Asli to make the connection, but after a moment she nodded slightly.
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Tona regarded Isaac suspiciously as they moved out from the airport and into the city. The glass and steel towers that soon rose all around them weren't too dissimilar from Freedom City's urban vistas; a student of architecture could probably talk for hours about the subtle differences between a colonial town grown into a metropolis and a city that had its roots as a boom town, but to Tona it was all concrete canyons and anchor points. She perked up when the car started down a highway that ran along the big river -- the Columbia, according to the map in her backpack -- but across the bay was just more urban development. Isaac, for his part, never seemed to notice that Tona was being quiet. He kept up a steady patter, effortlessly weaving in facts about Emerald City ( "See that statue the sun's shining off of? That's the Devestoid, or Devlin as the mayor keeps calling him.") and Danger international ("And that's why you you always buzz a runway before landing in Borneo!) spiced with anecdotes from his own life ("Never did take to the Stoof. I always preferred something that could fight back."). If anything he seemed grateful for the chance to have a captive audience.
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Sam's search turned up a couple rolls of athletic tape, and little else. Tona convinced the civilians to retreat to the sleeping cars, then weighed her options. After a long minute of thinking, she directed Sam to strip off the tactical webbing that each of the cultists was wearing. With the archer providing the muscle to lift the creature off the ground, she and Sam were able to wrap one vest around the dinosaur's jaw, used two more to pin its claws to its body, and used the last to bind its feet together. Tona went to work with the tableclothes and towels after that, ending up with something that looked either like a prehistoric mummy or a huge, knobby, albino snake. The archer leaned back against the bar, looking down at her handiwork and taking the opportunity to catch her breath. "If that's not going to hold it, then nothing will," she said. "At the very least, it shouldn't be able to open the doors back to the rear cars." Her attention drifted away from the dinosaur to the bar, and the several mini-fridges underneath it. She had skipped dinner after all, but it felt somehow indecent to take a meal break in the middle of a crisis like this. A sudden rumble from her stomach decided the matter for her. "D'aller en enfer pour nous," she muttered, vaulting the bar and rummaging underneath. She was able to put a respectable cold sandwich together and perched on the bar, chewing her dinner while she watched the unconscious cultists. "What do you think we should do," she asked Sam between bites. "If we keep going down the train like this we're going to run into more loonies and more monsters. But how else can we get up ahead?"
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Results 1d20+7: 11 [1d20=4] Wow, okay, let's reroll that. Results 1d20+7: 13 [1d20=6] Well we know who's side the dice roller is on, at least. Because he used a HP, that automatically becomes 10, so he doesn't get Stun'ed. Results 1d20+8: 24 [1d20=16] Okay, and he doesn't take any damage. Hey olopi, roll a DC 19 Toughness save as Bird of Arms punches through this guy's Aura.
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Isaac closed the tailgate and slid into the driver's seat of the truck, Tona taking the passenger side and looking out the side window. He slid easily into traffic and expertly navigated the winding knot of ramps and roads at the center of a modern, busy international airport. Tona closed her eyes before it all gave her a headache, but that didn't stop Hayes talking to her. "You have some pretty impressive references, young lady. Rescuring AEGIS agents in the south Pacific, going into Canada on some UNISON black-op and surviving a plane crash, and doing all of that before you can even drink." Tona opened her eyes slowly and turned to regard the big man in the loud shirt. "How did you hear about those things," she asked, suddenly suspicious. "I didn't think those sort of things would be publicized." Isaac barked a laugh. "They're not, trust me. But I know people, and they know people -- hell, I used to go drinking with Harry Powers's old man. Most folks couldn't find out half the things I've heard about you." He flashed a smile at her, all teeth and confidence. "'Course, most people haven't taken a Phantom from flame-out to a carrier deck, either. Takes all sorts in this world, you know?"
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Luthor shook his head when his little sister so brazenly stole the security DVD. "You better hope the cops just do a walk-through," he said, "and not try to dust for prints or something." He opened the door a crack and glanced at the front windows, only opening it more when he was sure that there weren't any cops in the store already. Satisfied that they weren't going to be nabbed the moment they stuck their heads out, he opened the door all the way and stepped out, sizing up the hooded woman. She was smaller than him, but armored, and someone in Bedlam wearing armor wasn't usually a good idea. "Let's get going, sis," he said, moving to keep himself between Lena and the woman. "We should get out of the way before the cops show up. In fact, we should be far, far away before the cops arrive." He broke for the front door and started crossing towards his truck.
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Corona watched the gawking crowds, keeping tabs on the Khanate noblewoman with her peripheral vision. It would only take one reactionary, one mad bomber, one idiot with a grudge, to start the war all over again. To start it in the halls of this space station. "I apologize for the crowds," she said dryly to Lady Tal'gar. "If you had let us know of this visit beforehand, we could have cleared the promenade for you. I'm sure a march past serried ranks of servants is more your style, anyway."
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Chrome would totally hit the dance.
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It's not Robina Hood. It's Robyn Hood.
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Okay, Bird of Arms is up again.
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Endeavor has Medicine +10, you're not actively under fire, I'm not going to make you roll anything.
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Sailor, do you want to make a post of Endeavor helping people with first aid?
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Anne nodded, finally taking a long drink of the coffee. "Thank you," she said quietly, glancing at Asli's back before focusing on Joe. "Thank you so much. I didn't... didn't know who to go to. I hope you can find my husband." After Anne left, Asli rubbed at her wrist with her thumb. "There's rumors that some new guys are moving into the rackets in Hanover," she said, speaking slowly. "They don't seem to have any of the usual operators. If there's really a brand-new operation around," she asked, "wouldn't they need some muscles? And they might be throwing around a lot of money."
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"Robin Hood chick is white," Luthor shot back. "The cops aren't going to bother her. And I didn't ask you to come out here, you thought it was a great f---ing idea." He took a deep breath and let it out. "Lena, Rothstein ain't gonna thank you for finding his stuff. No one is going to thank you for that. No one wants you here. I don't know why you think you're going to change the world by finding some smash-and-grab thieves. Now just..." He sighed and put his ear against the door again, listening. "Just be quiet, okay? If we're lucky the cops will be in and out and gone."
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I'm going to say that Anne starts at Friendly, so a roll of 21 doesn't actually shift her attitude at all.
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Luthor hurried Lena into the room, following her in and pulling the door closed. He kept his hand on the knob and put his ear to the door, listening intently. "This is why we don't come into Stark Hill," he said to her. "This is why we don't hang around crime scenes and this is really, really why we don't just walk into stores that have just been robbed!" He sighed, leaning against the wood. "Just... take a look around. There's got to be another way out of here." He didn't want to think about what they'd have to do to fight their way out.
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Miras watched Fast-Forward dash off into the trees, pushing her cowl back and shaking her head in his direction. "I cannot understand that man's problem. Back in the past and with a chance to fix things and he's just worried about running home." She turned when she heard a piercing cry ring through the woods and saw the native woman picking up her son and trying to sooth him. "Oh. Sorry, that probably sounds pretty bad. I didn't mean it like that. Listen, I know this is all pretty weird, but..." She stuck out her hand. "I'm Asli. Really, we're here to try and help you." The woman shook her head and didn't take her hand. "I'm called Sarah. I don't know what you people are here to do, but I wish you had just left me out of it." Asli frowned. "That crowd would have lynched you, lady. You want to let that happen, instead?" Sarah shook her head sharply. "Everyone in town is scared of witches killing their children. Now a witch came into town and took me out of it. How do you think that's going to work?" Zooming through the forest wasn't exactly hard for Fast-Foward, but it did slow him down; he had to carefully step around massy knots of old growth trees, it was just that he stepped so much faster. It didn't take him long to confirm that they were far, far away from town. It didn't take him much longer to find the Indian village. It didn't look anything like Hollywood would paint it as, being a collection simple log houses inside a circle of trodden grass. He could see a dozen or so individuals around the perimeter of the village, holding longarms and looking out into the forest, and a few more gathered around a body at the edge of the settlement.
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Trying to break into a room, Strength check: Results 1d20+5: 14 [1d20=9]
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Luthor shook his head at Lena's quick question, not even trusting himself to speak this near to Stark Hill. He didn't want to be here, he didn't want his baby sister her, he could only think about all the horrible ways this could go wrong. He hung back when she tried to get closer and investigate, keeping an eye out for flashing lights or screaming sirens. And there they were. He fairly ran across the road, not caring at this point if they impounded his truck. "Lena, we got to get out of here," he hissed at her as he stepped into the store, glass crunching under his boots. "C'mon, we've got to see if there's a way out in the back." The sirens were so close that he could almost feel the cuffs on his arms. He picked the nearest door and put his substantial shoulder against it, pushing his way in.
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That's going to miss.
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Anne blinked at Joe's question. "Hanover? No, we don't know anyone north of the river. Are you... are you sure someone saw him there? Maybe someone saw a different person and only thought it was Greg." Asli excused herself from the table and stepped off to one side, pulling out her smartphone and turning to the wall to hide the glow. She got onto the browser and tapped in a few keywords, scrolling though news articles and crime blogs and online police blotters. Freedom City was a pretty safe place to live, if sometimes a bit too exciting, but there always seemed to be an undercurrent of organized crime that no amount of brooding young people in masks could stamp out. The stories, though, seemed to point to a new operator in Hanover and the North End, a new force suborning the protection and numbers rackets. She glanced over her shoulder at Anne and felt a stab of pity; a new crime organization would need strong men with loose morals or desperate needs, and if Greg got caught up with this sort of thing then Anne might be her son's only parent for awhile.