Fox

Nocturne "Not all of them," ventured Natalia, sparing a glance around the room. "At least two of the 'prisoners' here aren't the real thing - Graviton's older, at large, and in Russia. Nguyen's enochlophobic, they'd have to drag him kicking and screaming to a place like this, he'd rather die. I bet they aren't the only ones - is it just you?" She circled the robot, as much to inspect it as to have an excuse to look around the room again. "....it is kind of hideous," she said, about either. "It's either an insult to good work or an insult to anybody who thinks hauling all of this out of storage would be at all safe."

Well, the mechanical doesn't do him much narrative good - he probably has some insight into some of the things he's seen today, but not a lot that's more than a passing curiosity. May's weird mech thing looks like a kind of unbalanced design in a way that should be obvious to its creator? The electronics and technology checks tell him that a lot of what he's seen today is unfinished (or, in some cases, incompletely-refurbished; some of it looks less 'incomplete' than 'incompletely repaired'), so it's not going to be fully operational. Some of it probably doesn't work at all (not coincidentally, the ones with no apparent demonstrations available). The rest don't appear to have any security measures in place stronger than "taze/shoot madman who uses technology bad". The guards do appear to be packing less-lethal zappy-type guns, though. A couple 35s, let's reward those: Nothing here would occur to him as particularly hostile to his own technology, outside of, you know, the ones that are obviously weapons and are hostile to everybody by virtue of being weapons. Those missiles are disarmed. They've made a decent effort at hiding the fact that they have no payload. Most of the stuff that looks semi-functional is either missing a power source, or has been hooked up to something very inadequate to its needs. If he watches superhero news, he might recognize a fair number of the projects out here as being, or being based on, things actually deployed by lower-rent super-science villain types in the past.

May is wearing something under her uniform - with a solid 20, Ryder can be pretty sure it's a bulletproof vest. The overalls hide it pretty well. She looks like she's been treated okay - any dishevelment appears to just be May being May. She doesn't necessarily look better than when they last saw her, but she doesn't look worse. Better-rested, maybe. A notice check doesn't give him much beyond the obvious, security-wise - the weird sound bubble does appear to be strictly sound; it didn't seem to interfere with his bugs in any special way, at least. He already knows there are armed guards here and there, and an expected number of security cameras, etc. If he's looking for anything technologically interesting, I'd take a Knowledge: Technology or Craft: Mechanical/Electronic.

One more Notice check, s'il vous plait, and let me know if there's anything else Ryder wants to check or know.

GM There was a sound of tools being set down, and May pulled herself free of a metal torso that didn't look any less odd up close - it did indeed look like the robotic gorilla they'd fought not so long ago, but with its limbs reinforced and its torso ballooned out into some kind of parody of a armored power suit. Nobody had even tried to add a head, though the anchors that had once attached that head to the torso looked to have been shaved down to make it look less obviously broken. May herself looked much as she did last they'd seen her: a little messy, a lot bored, and with a face that didn't look like it had ever expressed an emotion stronger than mild curiosity. She had the same uniform as everyone else, though she'd thrown some overalls on top and it seemed her uniform had not been allowed sleeves. Where they'd last seen her with heavier, gauntleted arms they were now almost skeletal, the minimum possible framework to allow a full range of motion and delicate manipulation. "Sorry," she said, though it sounded more like a curtesy than an actual apology. She grabbed a rag off a nearby tool bench and set to wiping grease off her hands. "It helps me concentrate. I'm surprised they let you up here -" - she did not look surprised - "- but if you're here, I guess I can talk. Not much else to do."

Nocturne Natalia caught the edge of Ryder's sleeve as they made their way toward May, scanning the expo floor with a poker face that desperately wanted to be a scowl. "Careful, Cricket," she said, voice low. "Something here's very wrong." Still, she stepped over the stanchions to follow him, and lost her train of thought for a moment as a curious thing happened: as soon as they'd stepped onto May's raised work floor, the rest of the room went quiet. Not silent, exactly, but quiet - muffled, even, the dull drone and hum replaced with a much duller murmur and the introduction of very loud rock music that they couldn't possibly have missed from only a few feet away. Could they? Natalia waited a moment for May to respond before reaching out with one foot and only somewhat gently tapping the stop button on a beaten old stereo tucked away behind one of the robotic legs. "Better?"

GM "No, not for free, of course; think of it like a work release program. Sentence reductions on quality results and good behavior, if the DoJ approves of...." "....nothing here's fully active or any danger, no, we would never. Anything truly sensitive is back at base, where we're...." "....purely provisional, you understand. We're a smaller branch doing this as part of an experiment before the policy's adopted in a more broad...." Each program ambassador was answering questions as best and as vaguely as possible, full spin mode on the spin floor - though some of their listeners (and interrogators) looked more satisfied than others. At least two of them were getting openly brow-beaten by a single reporter, who was leveling her little notepad under their noses like it was a loaded weapon. "You can't possibly expect to keep all of this safe in the middle of Hanover, without-" "Ma'am, we have a full guard on staff, all networked together so that if anybody tries to break out-" "Break out? Break out? How are you keeping anyone from breaking in??" The various and sundry projects each had a name and a small plaque - just enough to pique interest, never enough to tell you what the thing actually was. "Dr. P. Guin, reconnaissance", where a wiry man had a camera affixed to a model of a bird. "Mr. Nguyen, stealth", a nondescript man in a suit tinkering with a small sphere that was, on occasion, sparking and making part of its pedestal disappear. "Gravi-ton, force multiplication", a large man with a broken nose and messy brown hair sweeping the broken pieces of a cinderblock into a trash bin with one gauntleted hand. "Critical Mass, missile deterrent", an even larger man with trim blond hair showing off what appeared to just be more missiles. And, just off center, a cordoned-off platform bearing a large mechanical frame, its long, heavy limbs half-plated and unfinished, obvious repairs still in progress as someone's legs could be seen sticking out of its recently-enlarged torso. It did not have a head. "Mechanica, mobile armored vehicle".

Nocturne: Notice Check: 1d20+6 21 Improbable! And adorable. Results incoming in the IC thread.

To start us out, give me a Notice check for just general eavesdropping and maybe finding May. Let me know if Ryder's looking for anything special.

OOC thread!

Nocturne "It's cold, the journey was boring, and I think I'm going to have to bleach my eyes to get rid of all of....that," Natalia ventured, gesturing dismissively at the decorations, "and yet I still think it will have been worth the trip to hear you call someone a 'massive tool'. What a wonderful gift you've given me, and it isn't even Christmas yet." That had apparently been all the speechifying the military honcho had in him for the moment, and while some of the crowd attempted to gather around him and his aid for unwanted Q&A the rest opted to go inside, where it was warm, if not quiet. Scattered across the expansive two-story expo floor were a series of...things, some more concerning than others and each more concerning than the last: here an array of oddly-portioned missiles, there an ominously glowing sphere, largely unfinished and not quite immediately threatening but none of it quite immediately safe. Most were attended to - and sometimes actively being worked on - by someone in a prison uniform. Guards were wandering the floor, and stationed along a second-floor balcony that ran along all four walls of the room; the usual well-armed and no-nonsense types that one might expect, periodically checking their earpieces. Also wandering the floor were a number of less-imposing, still-uniformed individuals who were answering questions as best as they could, as vaguely as they could.

GM Hanover had a few exposition centers to rent for various conferences and shows, and while this wasn't one of the best, it certainly wasn't the worst - the whole front of the expansive main hall was steel and glass, evoking a sort of industrial terrarium dedicated to science and the might of the American armed forces and their collective science. Or, somebody's collective science. What little could be made out through the windows' glare and various hanging decorations had a few more pointed bits and unshielded electric arcs to be the tools of traditional warfare. Outside, vulnerable to light snow and the cold December air, they'd set up a proper podium: speakers and microphones and enough red-white-and-blue-and-beige to make it immediately, painfully clear that someone with very little design taste was very proud of whatever they'd pulled out of promotional storage. All this inflicted on a small crowd, here past the guarded gates where they'd handed over their invitations and received guest badges in return. Also inflicted on the crowd was a military man with a full dress uniform and no sense of volume control. "We can be proud of what our division has made, of course, of course!" he boomed in a voice that definitely did not need the speakers' help projecting over the crowd - in fact, his voice probably suffered for it. Certainly the crowd did. "The best and brightest's what we have, and we're darn proud of it! But a while ago some boys back at the base, they said we're in an arms race - all these so-called super-villains, and heroes who won't share what they've got with their country. We've got the best and brightest, but this country's always been on the lookout for a few new good minds, and if we've got a few so-called geniuses in jail, well, why not put 'em to work. So that's what we did! Only the ones that're safe, mind, only the ones that can really do some good here. And why not show 'em off? Why not show what they've got to give us, in exchange for some good old fresh American air." A couple members of the audience had hands raised - at least one of them a local reporter, raw skepticism written across her face - but he waved their hands down. "Now now, no more questions. You've got the press releases. You have any more questions, you find one of our staff inside. They're here to help."

Nocturne Natalia took a deep breath, reached into her bag, and produced a small cloth without looking. "I assume your invitation to wear whatever you like covered clothes and makeup, not crude oil," she said, holding it out. "Your devotion to your craft is commendable. Your inspiration is understandable. Please don't embarrass me." It wasn't a request so much as an imperative. "I did manage to find this trade show's event website - or I assume I did, I can't imagine there's more than one going on right now," she added, turning heel to stride toward the exits. "We should just make one of their public speeches if we go now, I'm sure it will be just as insightful and thrilling as one might expect from the military."

Nocturne Natalia made a dismissing motion with her hand as she withdrew back into her dorm room - though it was apparently for Ryder and not Black, since she shamelessly picked the latter up and took it with her as she shut her dorm window. "Are we certain Ryder was never part of a circus?" she asked him, conversationally; she dropped the little robot onto the seat of her dorm room chair, opening her closet to ponder options. It would be cold, but probably warmer inside. How cold was she willing to be until then? "Perhaps he uses the insect theme to hide his monkey powers, hm?" She dropped a towel over Black before she started to get properly dressed. --- She did not show up quickly, but she did show up on time, if 'on time' was defined by Natalia, which it always was. She'd paired some well-fitted flowing black slacks with a loose golden blouse, itself partly obscured by a dark coat that was much longer in the back than the front, lined lighter to highlight her profile. Boots on short heels would keep her feet some approximation of warm while not-coincidentally making her Ryder's height, and no shorter or taller. Not entirely ideal - the coat was a nice cut but she'd been planning to add a gold-dust pattern to the back - but it would do for blending in to a more serious trade show. Smoke-lensed glasses from her ever-increasing collection of eyewear didn't so much hide her eye color as excuse it as a trick of the light. All that and a small leather bag, colored to match the rest and sporting Black as an unapologetic accessory, stood outside Ryder's door with some measure of controlled impatience. "Well? I do hope you're ready by now."

Nocturne Natalia paused for a moment, as if trying to decide whether or not Ryder was serious. "That doesn't entirely surprise me, you'd probably try to take the tank apart or turn it into some giant insect, and break both legs in the process. And....Ryder," she added, slowly, "are you seriously asking if I want to spend my precious little free time crashing some kind of sad, banal little science party to visit a supervillain?" She let that hang in the air for a moment, one narrow eyebrow raised. "Of course I do. When? I'll need to get dressed."

Nocturne Natalia, pajama-clad, opted prop her head in her palm, her elbow on the windowsill, and her remaining head on Black's back for robotic scritches. She still wasn't sure if Black could feel them, but it was the posing that was important. She didn't even turn her head any more than was necessary, looking down her nose at Ryder's antics. It was cold out, which helped her not to think about abs. "Are they on the run from the fashion police?" she asked. "Have you chosen to blend in?" It wasn't even that bad, she liked the peacock bits, but yellow was almost gold in a way that somehow made it worse than if it hadn't tried at all. "It has admittedly been some time since I was allowed near a tank."

GM cw: gun violence Early December, 2020 Hanover The email was encrypted, and the encryption was custom puzzle nonsense, which was the kind of thing Mara did when she wanted to make sure an important message wouldn't be unraveled by someone who wasn't qualified to read it. Possibly, up to and including the intended recipient. Mara was like that. Once puzzled out, it contained the following:

Alice put up with the protective arm only long enough to decide whether or not to bite it, but her decision was cut off when Lou started getting fresh. "What- hey, you can't- watch the hand! What're you-" She was pretty sure he'd been very careful with his hands, but it was important to make him think twice about that. It was also important to not leave a moving vehicle, but if that was a good enough plan for him, then fine. She launched herself out the door, feet-first, before it had a chance to close; grabbing the upper rim of the doorframe she levered her whole body upright, and upside-down, in a worryingly graceful move that belonged on a gym mat and not a quickly-speeding car. Solid core strength turned the handstand into a short backwards walkover, which became an overly-fanciful pirouette as she landed crouched and center-of-mass on the vehicle roof and waved cheerily at their pursuer. "Eye on the birdie, ######!" she called out, laughing.

Alice is going to make the safe and excellent decision to start some elaborate car-surfing to distract Hard Bargain. She uses Skill Mastery to auto-29 an Acrobatic Bluff vs. Hard Bargain (who, if my tired brain is following the thread, just got feinted into getting nice and close). If she succeeds, she'll spend 1 Hero Point to temporarily gain the Set-Up feat, so that Lou can be the beneficiary of the feint.

Wraith will use skill mastery to auto-26 that check.

"It was...nice, though not always peaceful. I made some very good friends. ....your bully sounds like a problem," she noted, gently disapproving. Claremont might frown on a graduated student showing up to punch teenagers. "When I was still a student, they sometimes had lessons on resisting mind control - perhaps you will get a chance to attend? I found it--" She paused for a moment, visibly wincing as Aquaria mentioned the Kinigosi. And feasting. Both those things were technically correct but she'd have to remind Aquaria to...not do that. In public. Train of thought lost, she did at least recover her social grace in time to accept the chunk of metal with an eye-tilting alien smile. "Thank you," she said, and meant it. "One wonders how a whale came to eat such a thing, but I will not turn away good fortune."

I'm normally a stickler for making people post their counts in Active Threads or Late Thread Counting, but I think it's been a heck of a November for everyone - I've gone ahead and counted up everyone's posts, even if you didn't have a chance to record them for us. This is the exception, not the rule. Don't say I never got you anything for the holidays. 3personal5me Steel Spider: 1 post = 1pp angrydurf Ouroboros: 3 posts = 1pp + 1 (ref) = 2pp AvengerAssembled Watchdog: 10 posts = 2pp Angelic: 7 posts = 1pp + 1 (ref) = 2pp Sea Devil: 5 posts = 1pp Cubismo Arrow IV: 4 posts = 1pp Ultra Girl: 1 post = 1pp Dr Archeville Horrorshow: 1 post = 1pp Protectron: 1 post = 1pp + 1 (ref) = 2pp Electra Chelone: 1 post = 1pp Exaccus Facsimile: 1 post = 1pp Fox Nocturne: 0 posts = 0pp + 1 (ref) = 1pp Gizmo Chitin: 0 posts + 1 (GM) = 1 post = 1pp + 1 (ref) = 2pp Lou Lubrano: 0 posts + 1 (GM) = 1 post = 1pp GM: 1 post * 2 = 2 Heritage Crystal-Gazer: 13 posts = 2pp Miracle Girl: 2 posts = 1pp Shift: 9 posts = 1pp The Shrike: 3 posts = 1pp Kaede Kimura Shadowborne: 1 post = 1pp Shooting Star: 2 posts = 1pp The Dreamer: 1 post = 1pp KnightDisciple Judex: 2 posts = 1pp Thunderbird: 7 posts + 4 (rollover) = 11 posts = 2pp + 1 (guide) = 3pp Raven III: 4 posts = 1pp Nerdzul Nightscale: 11 posts = 2pp Nick Arcana: 1 post = 1pp + 1 (admin) = 2pp RocketLord Archer II: 0 posts + 10 (rollover) = 10 posts = 2pp Ghost: 1 post = 1pp Holger Danske: 0 posts + 2 (GM) = 2 posts = 1pp Justice: 5 posts + 5 (GM) = 10 posts = 2pp Little Mermaid II: 0 posts + 1 (GM) = 1 post = 1pp Nevermore II: 7 posts + 3 (GM) = 10 posts = 2pp Rebellion: 0 posts + 25 (GM) = 25 posts = 3pp + 1 (guide) = 4pp Spaceman: 4 posts + 6 (GM) = 10 posts = 2pp Forever Boy: 10 posts = 2pp GM: 21 posts * 2 = 42 Spacefurry Paper: 3 posts = 1pp Blackstaff: 2 posts = 1pp Chimera: 1 post = 1pp Thunder King Specimen: 6 posts = 1pp Tiffany Korta Blodeuwedd: 0 posts + 1 (rollover) = 1pp + 1 (ref) = 2pp Dr Thorne: 1 post = 1pp Emerald Spider: 1 post = 1pp Madame Raven: 1 post = 1pp Merge Trois: 0 posts + 1 (GM) = 1pp Scarab III: 1 post Zhenshchina-voin: 0 posts + 1 (GM) = 1 post = 1pp Miss Grue: 1 post = 1pp GM: 1 post * 2 = 2 Zeitgeist Blue Salvo: 4 posts + 2 (GM) = 6 posts = 1pp GM: 1 post * 2 = 2

"This is my first festival to Belopa," Wraith confirmed, unblinking eyes sliding a half-inch across her head to look at the whale for a moment. "I have seen some others, but they were not quite like this. She has a very interesting culture." That didn't seem to be either insult nor compliment, and she turned her gaze - thankfully, by turning her actual head - to bring her attention back to the conversation. "The food thing is easier than you might think," she chuckled. "I do not get hungry, so I do not miss the food that I am not eating. I did have pancakes once," she amended, an afterthought; her eyes unfocused a bit at the memory. "They were very good. But those were special circumstances - while I was at Claremont myself. Have you been a student long? Or are you not here with the rest?"

"Is it good?" For a relatively tall being made entirely out of metal, Wraith had an awful habit of sneaking up on people - always just in your blind spot, always just close enough for conversation, always just far enough to respect someone's personal space. The feet probably helped - for all that the rest of her was a smooth silvery humanoid, her legs were distinctly alien: thick and wide-toed like an alien camel to help her balance her mass on the sand. She blinked three large, black voids of eyes Nightscale's way, gesturing gently at his fish. "I cannot partake, of course," she added, which made sense; she had no mouth, humming a voice from somewhere a mouth should have been, "but people do seem to enjoy it." Perhaps it was for the best. She suspected she couldn't participate too fully in the ritual itself without committing some kind of personal heresy, and even the whale bones weren't much good to her if she hadn't hunted it herself. She did so want those whale bones. Mostly she wanted her family's case worker to stop sighing at her over holo-call. She wasn't going to admit that one out loud.

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