Supercape

GM "Excellent! I win!" declared Imprint, jumping free of Mannequins opening fist. In a flash of vaguely blue-ish light, she appeared now as a slightly short, slender woman with long brown hair, dressed in blue armour that had a kind of plastic feel. Her eyes were concealed by a mirrored visor, one would speculate to mitigate the effects of the flash when she changed size. "Ha ha! Well, I knew I would, of course! I have been planning this all for a long time!" she said. "I am, after all, a genius. Even if nobody recognises that fact that is unarguably a fact!". She seemed elated with her success. "Block Head is mine! So if you wouldn't mind opening a portal to my secret hideout which is...ha! I wouldn't let that slip would I?" she laughed. "No no, I think I can manage to get us through the police..." Two police men came strolling in, with slightly blank faces. "See? Would you mind *ahem* arresting me...officers?" she laughed at them. "Yes..." they both replied simultaneously and flatly. "See?" she laughed at Mannequin and Doctor Deoxy. "My clay men can be anything! Very useful, even if they are a bit dull and fragile!" she admitted. "But they serve a purpose!" "As for me, they won't even spot me. I just have to get Block Head out!" she though, although she seemed to think twice now she stood up close to him and gauged his height. "That might be a bit more tricky, I suppose..." she conceded.

Rev Her head was spinning. "That sounds pretty - errr....awesome? amazing? terrifying. Heck, it sounds a lot of things" replied Rev, bamboozled by the enormity of it. She widened her eyes and looked at Zhu for help. Her head was bigger, maybe she could absorb it. "But if thats the case, are these the bad guys? I mean, if Lawrence can save the everythingverse...I mean, is that what it is?" she asked, looking at Lawrence with a completely new set of eyes. "Maybe his mum and dad should like go with him, and see if we cant all stop....collapse. Wow, that's a chilling name..." she shuddered.

Flux "There!" replied Quill, pointing at one of the readings on the screen. "And there!" he said pointing at another. "Radiation spikes. See how they form a characteristic n-dimensional inverse hypercollision?" he explained. "I have only seen that once before. In the anomaly that we were surveying by the asteroid field. Where I was lost.." "The Quantum Dark Zone. It must be!" He shuddered. "You have to understand. Space-Time is...well I am not sure it even exists. Other things do, but its beyond my ability to sense. And that is deeply disturbing, as I am able to sense a lot - it really is a gift of extraordinary sensitivity - " he pointed to his head " - and yet I was quite blind when lost in the zone". He paused and tapped his chin, thinking. "What concerns me is that this may not be your normal wormhole. I say normal because there is no other word, of course. Wormholes are pretty abnormal by their nature. But this pattern of radiation suggests something different. And it also suggest that whatever the Quantum Dark Zone is, it is not a singular thing..."

You could always decide by a thread playing it out.... One point is that the CI is for humans or near humans rather than gods, aliens, or magical beings. I think Grimalkin would qualify as basically human, but mull that over.

Flux "Tea, if you have it" replied Flux without much hope. "Earl Grey" he added, hoping against every reasonable hope. Practically without thinking, he started observing the wormhole, and glancing around at the data. There was room, even with all the glorious scientific analysis to sift through, to take a step back and comprehend the wonder of the thing. And it was wonderful. "Its a beautiful beast" he commented, acknowledging its destructive power. Like anything with utility, it was powerful. Like anything powerful, it could be destructive. Questions started popping up in to his mind. "Where does it lead? When does it lead?" "What are its safety parameters?" "Have their been any casualties?" And any number of more technical questions on radiation, dimensions, energy, mass, and time-space...

Starshot This gave Starshot pause for thought. "You make a good point!" he chuckled. "Who knows what lives underwater!" "It will have to be a night approach. Although I like this less and less. They may have - the probably do have - night vision equipment. Ultraviolent, Infrared. Even if it is our best bet, it could go against us..." he said, grim now. "We will need to carefully coordinate the attack. Multiple angles. Distractions. I think those grenades could work well - if you fancy using them, Laark?" he said with a smile. "The difficulty will be getting close enough. It will have to be fast, and brutal. They have chosen their base well - open sands all around" "What do we have for camouflage, or mounts?" he asked Emorda. "For we must either be unseen or swift. And ideally both..."

A fair point!

GM The dim light shone in the distance, and the pair of heroes crawled and scuttled quietly through the tunnel, aware of the sloshing of filthy water beneath them. It seemed Doctor Tonic was blissfully aware; they could not see him yet, but heard the occasional foot step, and the odd mutter. He was, presumably, experimenting, and quite absorbed in his work down here. Vermin - and Filth for that matter - would come no closer, and hung back. Curious, true, but not curious enough to get caught in the cross fire. And it seemed it would become a very complex crossfire. Dr. Tonic was experimenting on fungus...then ants....then rats....working his way up to larger animals.... Beneath them, in the sewer infested waters, two black eyes appeared. Something was in the water. Something big. Very big... And alligator....twenty feet long, at least....

Good scores for both!

A fair point, I will put link to threads at top of the this one. As to how this plays out long term - I have no idea! Watch this space, I suppose.

Apologies for derailing, haven't read this thread - but I will point out my one irritation with Black Panther. A hyper advanced culture who decide who their supreme leader (I think?) should be (who makes complex political, economic and cultural decisions) by... ....trail be combat. Yeah, that took some suspension of disbelief! (Although i loved the film!)

This is the nature of the debate, KD, and is precisely why the threads have been alive - debating these very points. Whilst I appreciate there are politics around this, the CI is, by design, going to create just the type of conflicts you mentioned above. That's not to everyones taste - either player or character - but it is to some. Obviously when it comes up in play it will be handled with sensitivity and we aren't going to play out politics here - but we will be playing out ethics and philosophy of the characters. All the conflicts you mention are quite real and have in fact already come up (by and large) in the threads to date. The question of why an immortal should be prioritised over a mortal has also been discussed and, of course, it is not that simple - and it is not a matter of prioritisation that clearly either. I won't do justice to the threads so far to condense these matters down to a few pithy sentences, but in principle it is because Immortals have particular dangers not faced by mortals. Also if a PC or NPC doesn't like it, they can leave without issue. The CI is completely voluntary both in terms of joining and leaving. Would Daedelus join? I don't know if anyone has actually played him here as an NPC to get inside his headspace to give direction. It is of course, by design, a contentious thing. For me, I would think he would err on the side of joining but thats an entirely subjective view and the only way of deciding is, I suppose, a consensus of subjective views. Breaking out of prison is actually a particular point to bring up (and we are specifically talking about getting broken out facing the death penalty - incarceration itself would be a non-issue). It brings into focus the question of responsibility for inactivity vs activity, and of course what would constitute reasonableness. Breaking someone out of prison is both against the law and personally dangerous. Would that be required? no. Handing him over to the authorities to face certain death (as opposed to incarceration) might be another matter. However, applying pressure legally to make a plea bargain (and avoid the death sentence) if incarcerated would probably be a reasonable requirement if it is within the skill mix of the character. What the CI is not - is a secret cabal of immortals all promoting and helping one another with secret handshakes. Its a final defence against being persecuted, victimised, prejudiced or tortured for being an immortal. Absolutely nothing would stop Daedelus or other PCs from actively seeking out Dr Sin and throwing him in Blackstone - and making sure he doesn't get broken out. There might be an interesting discussion about infinitely long incarceration and whether that is cruel or unusual. Another time, though!

Thats right, although "cahoots" is a strong word - there is nothing in the CI that says immortal members cannot oppose each other, arrest each other, incarcerate each other or fight each other (except in the later case in the actual Clubs - like Highlander or John Wick as examples). Worst enemies could be part of it, as long as they dont kill / torture each other (or by omission allow these to happen). That said, Overshadow is such a global threat to everybody that he could not join on that basis - in fact, he poses such a threat that he actually harms immortals just by his existence, and would likely be actively opposed by the Codus. In addition, his word means squat - and if your word means squat, then no point giving it or accepting it. if Dr Sin joined, for instance, it would still be entirely reasonable for other members to arrest him and / or take down his organisation - and they would not be obliged to help him out of any jam or give him special favour. The only exceptions would be about death (incl. Capital punishment) or handing him over to some particularly brutal incarceration or experimentation ("Cruel and unecessary punshiment"). I don't see Blackstone or indeed any regular (Western) society being likely to fall into these categories. Does anyone have any objection to the following joining? Daedelus Dr Sin Lucius Cabot

Rev Probation Report: Feb 2018 Name: Lexa Venn ID: SP-33DF-45T / XR [Special Case Alert] Author: Sandra Rhodes, Senior Probation Officer Confidential / Senior Staff Only Redacted under special circumstances exemption. Classified information for AEGIS eyes only. Current Circumstances Lexa is currently living in [Redacted] which is a boarding / residential school facility for [redacted]. She resides in said facility permanently, although has regular contact with her mother (DAISY JENKINS) including overnight stay at weekends (Mother works as a nurse and has erratic shift schedule at McNider Memorial Hospital). This arrangement provides a safe, secure, and predictable environment and also allows for moderate level monitoring of behaviour which in turns will allow reasonable detection of pro-offending behaviour or social group. Finances Lexa receives a modified low living allowance paid for by [Redacted], alongside some small supplementary monies gifted by mother. This allows for basic needs, such as food, clothing and so on to be met, with a very limited amount of money for recreational use, as recommended by [redacted] psychological assessment. Educational supplements such as reading material are paid for by [redacted] after assessment for suitability. In summary, Financial arrangements are reasonable, suitable, and adequate. Ongoing monitoring of finances should remain, in order to detect inappropriate uses such as the purchase of alcohol or other illicit recreational drugs. Health and Wellbeing Lexa has an exceptionally complex medical condition involving extensive [redacted] which has resulted in [redacted] to all four limbs as well as internal [redacted], and minor visual impairment (namely, color blindness). She receives regular medical check ups – every two weeks, by [redacted] physicians, and less regular multi disciplinary assessment, every three months, by a team of [redacted] experts including physicians, occupational therapists, physiotherapists, psychologists, [redacted], [redacted] and obviously [redacted] given the peculiarities of her condition. In summary, the reports indicate that the [redacted] are working well, and in fact are [redacted]. There seem to be no significant health concerns at present, although in order to maintain the function of her [redacted] limbs, high quality lubricant is needed (Funding streams for this are being discussed). On a positive note, a synthetic gel-skin has been developed by [redacted], another resident at [redacted] with whom Lexa has developed a friendship. This skin effectively looks like real skin and thus allows Lexa to have the superficial appearance of normality, covering up her [redacted]. Whilst the psychological impact of this is a matter for debate (on the one hand, allowing normal social activities, on the other hand, repressing the core issue), the professional consensus is that, at this stage in her life, it is a positive development and on this issue I too feel that it is positive. I note that diet may not be ideal, including a propensity towards sugar rushes (in particular, Cherrybomb! Lollipops). Education and Occupation Lexa attends a full curriculum. Her attendance records are, somewhat concerningly, significantly below average but still within acceptable limits. I advise that this is monitored closely. Lexa missed one year at school, at minimum, and is playing catch up. As predicted by psychological testing (above average IQ), she is catching up reasonably fast, perhaps partly due to the influence of her room mate and friend [redacted] who is recorded as having a super-genius level of intelligence. Some subjects show some more lag, such as civics and literature. She shows great interest in engineering and practical technology, which given her previous activities is unsurprising. It is recommended that this interest is cautiously cultivated. Whilst it is a field associated with previous offending behaviour, it also provides focus and self-esteem, and is a field also suitable for future gainful employment. It is recommended that further attention be given to education in civics and ethics, and that progress in these areas is carefully scrutinised. Family Lexa has only one close family member (DAISY JENKINS) with whom she has a warm, positive relationship for the most part. Mother still struggles with loss of her husband (Lexa’s father) and is receiving treatment for depression. Maternal grandfather (who is frail), and Paternal grandparents are both in irregular contact, as are a number of siblings, uncles, and aunts. No extended family member has a known criminal record or pro-offending backgrounds, although one paternal uncle (JAMES VENN) has a history of alcohol abuse that should be monitored (in terms of his effect and influence on Lexa). In my opinion the family are still struggling with the violent death of Lexa’s father, and have delayed grief responses that have been compounded by the events of Lexa’s life. Whilst not completely dysfunctional, I suspect there are underlying problems around grief and blame, and it may be worth considering systemic family work at some point. Peer Group The students at [redacted] are obviously unusual. As a result of [redacted] any conclusions or opinions must be treated with great caution due to the unique case. Due to the nature of the educational facility, great care is given to discipline and security both from an architectural and relational point of view, and thus there is a great emphasis on ethical and moral development (for understandable reasons). With this is mind, it is reasonable to say that there is no sign of an actual or emergent pro-offending peer group or culture. There are some students whose behaviour indicates certain emerging negative personality traits, but there is no indication that Lexa has anything more than a superficial relationship with these individuals, and indeed some indication that she actively avoids them due to her motivation to “stay out of trouble”. Further more, many of her peers could be considered positive role models, such as [redacted] and [redacted]. In this domain, one could not reasonably expect a more positive peer group at [redacted]. Psychological Assessment Due to AEGIS involvement we have the benefit of in depth psychological assessment. Lexa displays signs of delayed grief response which has been partially resolved with psychological input with which she has had variable engagement. There is still considerable resistance to formal intervention. Whilst personality development is incomplete at this stage, the Myers-Briggs system has been used for assessment. This indicates an emerging ESFP (Extravert, Sensing, Feeling, Perceiving) also known as Performer) personality type. This personality type is considered fun loving, thrill seeking and optimistic. The assessment notes possible recklessness and lack of foresight, plus risk of emerging narcissism. At present, these more negative aspects to personality cannot be rules out but there is no indication of seriously maladaptive traits in these domains. An element of narcissism may in fact be necessary as a defence mechanism against trauma in late childhood (see bereavement) and eroding this defence mechanism may be ill advised. At present I would advise that there is no signs of malignant personality traits emerging, although there are some degree of what might be called pro offending personality traits; any offending would be likely to be impulsive rather than pre meditated. Summary and Recommendations At present there are no obvious signs of problems and the risk assessment would remain low, and arguably reduced from previous assessment. Lexa is not without problems but these seem to be as a consequence of bereavement which has not been fully processed, rather that ingrained personality traits or pro-offending beliefs. If she progresses through education and is protected from pro-offending peer groups or other disinhibitory factors (such as alcohol or intoxicants) I am of the view that the risk of reoffending is low and that the future is optimistic. Indeed, should she continue to show signs of protectiveness and concern, it is quite possible that she would be an asset to [redacted] and take up the mantle of [redacted] which would surely be a benefit to all. One should be mindful of her positive personality traits and clearly demonstrated commitment to reform. The major areas of concern would be of impulsiveness and an ongoing need for stimulation that may in itself be a defence mechanism against grief. This may raise the risk of low impact offences. It is my recommendation that these issues be cautiously and sensitively addressed with both Lexa and family, and that these traits are either funnelled and channelled into a relatively safe focus, such as [redacted] or [redacted], or are addressed through psychological systemic work.

Ronin Nancy street ain’t what it used to be. A year ago, before Ronin came, it was ticking along smooth. Well, smooth for me anyway. Me and the dogs – that’s my crew, the Crippled Dogs – we had it sweet on Nancy Street. Nancy street ain’t somewhere you can crawl out of, not without busted lips, busted knuckled, and a loaded gun you ain’t afraid to use. Only way out of Nancy street is by blood, you see. Your own, or somebody else’s. Me and the dogs, we chose the somebody else’s. There was lots of competition, that’s true. Everyone trying to make sumthin’ out of nuthin’, ain’t that the truth. Ill say this for Ronin, he didn’t pick out one of us. He came at all of us. Mad Pinkies crew got it first, they say. I saw it, too. He stormed up to Pinkies car, disarmed the thug watching her, and threw him across the street, to the sound of crunchin’ bones. Now Pinky ain’t one to get rattled easy, so she just stood up, and pulled that little pink revolver out of her handbag. Pinky might be nearing sixty, but she got steel, I’ll give her that. She even got off a round, bam! Right in his Chest, only he just ignored it. Iron plated, it seemed. He didn’t pause a moment, either. Pinky is an old woman but he didn’t care. She had just shot him, and he knew all about her. Musta heard about her screwball dungeon. If you haven’t heard about her screwball dungeon, you don’t wanna. So he just kicked her hand, must have broken damn near every bone in her fingers, the way she was yelping. So, after Mad Pinkie and her crew got taken down, me and the Dogs, and hell, half of Nancy Street, they got to celebrating. Maybe room to muscle in on her crew, expand, we were thinking. And we tried, I tell you. Me and a few other gangs, we tried to lick up the mess and take it for ourselves. Like Vultures. That’s how it goes around here. But Ronin, huh, he wasn’t finished, not by a long shot. He wanted to clear up Nancy Street. Not from Mad Pinkie, or Jackie Hammer, or Pitbull Pete. No, he wanted us all gone. So, we were happy he was around, at first. Some kung fu action. Hero of the streets. Breaking down Mad Pinky. Some major badass. Then Jackie went down. Then Pitbull Pete. Now, when I say down, you gotta understand what that meant. Everyone knows the cops are corrupt in Bedlam. Not all, but a lot. Their jails, their police cells, well, the walls are made of cardboard, if you know what I mean? Enough money swings from one hand to the other, and bang, you are out. And don’t even get me started on the lawyers and judges. Now, we don’t have a lot of gold to grease palms with. So us on the street, we get caught, we have to suck up the consequences. So, for us, well hell, we don’t just walk out. But the point is; nobody in the know trusts the cops. Or at least, the system. So Ronin doesn’t just drag out asses to the cop shop. And he don’t kill, either. Some karate code or sumthin’. Got a gun on him blows the air out of your lungs and the steam out of your ears. Don’t ask me how it works – what am I? Doctor Archeville? It just knocks you out rather than putting a bullet through your brains. Anyway, point is, he don’t kill, and he don’t do the arrest thing. He got smarts – he knows that if her arrests a couple of thugs, sends em packin’, he don’t actually stop us. What does he do? He dismantles us. Like everyone, like every gang, or organisation, or business, we got needs. Money, headquarters, guns, equipment. Money, mainly. And respect, you know? That fear? Contacts, informers, spies. So, what does he do? He steals our money. He burns our drugs. He cuts of the electricals to our headquarters. He poisoned the damn water to Pitbull Pete. Everyone in his gang ended up throwing up their guts for a week, and it did pretty much the same for the other end, if you know what I mean. He slashes the tires of our cars. Cuts the brakes. He melts down our guns and sabotages our equipment. What do we have left? Just us, man, just us. So we started hitting back hard, with what we got. Thing is, but that stage, we don’t have much left, except for our anger and getting mighty frustrated. And that don’t get you far, not in the long run, anyhow. Se started busting skulls, demanding to know where he is, wanting revenge. Old Headlock Henry, he tried going out after his family. Now, from whats I hear, that’s a bad move any day of the year. His sister is a bad ass cop, and his cousin may have lost his legs but he was in the Marines – he don’t let a thing like that stop him. Don’t be getting all cocky on him just cos he’s a cripple. He can fire straighter than any damn thug I know. But this wasn’t just any old day. Ronin gets wind of Headlock Henry. Finds him in an alley one night, outside his favourite drinking hole. Now, Ronin don’t kill. Not deliberately anyway. But when someone goes after his family, you take your chances. Ronin took him out in the alley, in the moonlight and the rain. I saw it. Didn’t take long either. Headlock, he knows how to fight, ya see? How do ya think he got that name? But he didn’t last more than ten seconds. Never seen a man move so fast. Ronin knows how to fight. Made me realise he been holding back on Mad Pinky and the others. Sure, yeah, it was like those Kung Fu films, kicks and punches so fast I couldn’t really see ‘em. But this was dirty too. A street fight. Like when he slammed Headlocks head into a dumpster and slammed it again, harder. I don’t know how Headlock survived the beatin’ he got that night. ‘Spose I gotta give credit to him. He don’t member a thing, of course, just that he woke up two days later with two busted legs and a busted arm, missing a few teeth. Don’t think Headlock henry ever going after that family again. Hell, I don’t think any of us are. That was when we realised we weren’t up against just a man. We were up against a will. Something that, how ever hard you tried to break, he was just going to break you back. Too smart to fool, too strong to beat, too determined to intimidate. Mad Pinky, Jackie Hammer, all the others, they were just the first on his list. And we, we were the last. All we had was our frustration, our ego, I guess. No hard man wants to admit he’s beat, and we all had to be hard men. But we all knew we was beat. We started attacking each other, blaming each other. All we had was ourselves, and then we lost that, too. So, we all hang around Nancy Street, but nobody want’s to form no gang now. I ain’t saying we are straight, but I know we are beat. At least on Nancy Street. I heard a couple of the guys, like Tyrone Tire Iron and Missy Stabz, they gone elsewhere, tried to hustle out a living on some other street with some other gang. Don’t know if they made it. Here on Nancy Street, this ain’t no life for a crook. I gotta job now. Some piece of trash job with trash pay. But its all I can do. Huh, I can’t see Ronin stoppin’, not till he has a bullet in his head. Maybe he won’t stop even with that. I gotta respect the guy, but damn I wanna strangle him too….

Lord Steam This was a bamboozling turn of events, and Lord Lockwood was suitably bamboozled. He did not trust the Atlanteans, and frankly, he smelt Machiavellian twists and plots. But smelling such rotten plans was quite different from proving it. Or even knowing it. He clenched his fist, determined not to touch the handle. Not yet. Patience. Control. Wait....Wait...Wait! He froze, concentrating purely on listening in on the conversation. Mayhap they would spin more rope on which to hand themselves....

Rev "That sounds good" said Rev, actually quite excited to meet Daedelus. Or at least, she hoped to meet him. And if that was how she felt, she could only imagine how much Zhu would relish the experience. "How about that Zhu! the Lord of inventors! Don't get all tongue tied on me when we meet him!" she said, realising - after she had spoken the words - that the suggestion not to get tongue tied would probably have quite the reverse effect. "It would be good to get his angle on this. As far as I can see, until we know what is hunting Lawrence, we can't keep him safe" she said, trying to muffle the last words out of Lawrences earshot.

GM The Ship was, as might be expected, free from holes. It was, after all, a ship. The few patches of rust were superficial rather than leaky. But doors, on the other hand, were not airtight. And the crack to use was quite simple - the door of the bridge. Inside was the normal regular bridge of a ship. Somewhat antiquated but still functional. It wouldn't win any prizes for technology or modern style, and one would imagine it took considerably more effort to maintain - and suffered a few more breakdowns that one would expect. But it was all there - radar, sonar, and so on. And the captain of the ship, a tall bald man with a scar or two, was bent over some maps, consulting. Having a look at them, it seemed that he was plotting a course to northern Africa. Egypt, by the best guess.

Lord Steam "Excellent! Not what I had in mind, but excellent all the same! Why, I am rather fond of this little thing!" proclaimed Lord Steam, whistling a merry tune. It would make transporting his unconscious friend much more easy. But still, no door opened - at least not yet. There was but one thing to do - and he did it. "By Vishnu, I hope this works!" he whispered to the Gods, and pressed the button on the wand...

GM "Sure thing, smoky!" replied Zane! giving a thumbs up to Bonfire. From altitude, the docks looked like they were doing a trudging business. In winter time, things slowed down slightly - in mood if nothing else. It was wet, it was cold, and even the merriest soul, whistling a merry tune, could feel it. The ship was old but seaworthy, as far as could be told. It had a kind of worn look, and was without a lot of modern appliances. But it still had a radio, life boats, and so on. It looked to be a kind of amalgamation of small cargo vessel and passenger vessel, doing a bit of both but neither terribly well. Some sailors were on board, playing cards. They were armed, but not alert, with handguns. Bonfire could spot one security camera covering the main deck.

Lord Steam "What? Where did that strange fellow go?" gasped Lord Steam to the air. He had disappeared, just like... Magic... And left a wand in his hand. Lord Steam could only conclude that it was a key of some sort. Quite what sort, was anybodies guess. But the strange Knight seemed to indicate as such. He had no idea how to use it, but he could at least try. "KAZAM! OPEN SESAME! LOCKO-UNBOLTO!" he yelled to the air as he swished the wand this way and that to see what would happen.

My inclination is to leave Overshadow out of Codus for now. I am not sure I can quite elucidate why, but it feels a bad fit somehow. Maybe he is simply to confident and egocentric to ever feel beholden to anyone but himself.

Lord Steam "A veritable treasure!" noted Lord Steam, who had plenty of money but was not immune to its allure. The Gold! The Silver! The Platinum! "Oh dear! Too much strain, old chap!" he sighed, seeing Dol Druth unconscious. Still, through the doorway was, by his estimation, better than staying in the crumbling cavern. He dragged the Speaker through the door and took a breather once inside. He dared not touch the barrier, whatever it was. Surely, however, its purpose was to prevent theft and he had little doubt that it would be effective in this endeavour. At best, it would be impenetrable. At worst, he would lose the arm he touched it with. No, at worst, he would be disintegrated. So, whilst he paused to admire and contemplate the vast wealth here, he did not touch. He bent to down to see how Dol Druth was. If there was any chance of reviving him, then he would do so - for dragging the speaker a mile down the avenue would be a considerable exertion...

Grey area, I think (i.e. would it be cool?)

Lament As told by Mrs Ivy Smelt, 61. I run the diner. North of Freedom City, Route 525, just by the coast. Smelt in your mouth. My husband and I set it up over thirty years ago, hardly a dime to our name after we bought the old building. Worked our fingers to the bone, and raised three kids whilst we did so. I’m proud of our diner. Got the best chilli fries north of Freedom City, it does. The secret is… Well hell, you didn’t think I would tell you the secret did you? Then it wouldn’t be no darn secret no more har har har! Anyway, we run a nice little place, and its ours. Going to be tough selling the place, you see. But my husband he ain’t young no more, and truth is, neither am I. Maybe in a few years time we are gonna have to sell. We’ll see. The kids don’t want it, can’t say I blame them, but it would have been nice to see it in the family. What I am trying to explain is that the diner means something to us. Its like, well, I don’t know, our bones and blood. Like a kid, in a way, I guess. Its built on our sweat, and we are proud of it. Going to be like losing an arm, selling this place. The point is, its more than just money to us. It really is. And it nearly got burnt down last year. That’s what this story is about. It was saved by some superhero. Lament, his name. Strangest man I ever saw, if indeed he is a man. Something spooky about him. Something hungry, I think. Now, don’t think I am complaining, because without him, this play would be ashes. But still, I gotta say, something spooky. Didn’t know who he was at the time. As far as I understand it, from looking on that internet thing, he hadn’t really shown his face at that time. Nobody knew him, bar a few crackpot rumours here and there. Somebody had written about him in some awful trash magazine called Arcanum. I tracked down a copy, and my word, I gotta say that is the worst goddamn magazine I ever did read. Anyway, let me tell you the story. I’ll get some coffee. Always got some fresh coffee here. And maybe some chilli fries. Go on, try them, You’ll never taste better. So it was late last year. A chill in the air, the nights drawing close and dark. Not snow, but it wouldn’t take much more to snow. Almost like you could taste it in the air, something crisp and icy. It was late one Friday night, maybe past midnight. We work late that night, tends to do a brisk business with taxis and people travelling to and from the city for the weekend. Its not busy, but it ain’t exactly slow either, and we drift through it on strong coffee and neon lights. Something hypnotic about being by the highway. The rumble of engines and the way the headlights flow past, left to right, right to left. It was a slow Friday that Friday, though. We had two guys in. A taxi driver trying to drink enough coffee to get through the night. And a young man who had stopped off for a bite to eat. Canadian, I think. Was heading north. Didn’t speak much but had a nice face, if I remember correctly. Then we had a visitor. He was dressed in some kind of iron suit, all black and scorched. He had a flame thrower in his hand. That’s right, a flame thrower. “Don’t move, this is a stick up!” he laughed. Something about him, though. He didn’t sound like he was that interested in sticking the place up. He could have pulled a gun for that. Sounded like he was high on something. You know, like those super drugs you get in Freedom City, the ones that make you strong, or fast? And end up killing you? He was on something, that was for sure. I couldn’t see his eyes behind that iron mask, but he sounded crazy. I guess he was crazy. Nobody sane would go around the highway dressed like that with a flamethrower if they were sane. Something about him made me frightened. We have had the odd gun pulled on us, but that’s pretty rare. Twice in thirty years, and more out of misunderstanding than malice. But that was frightening. This, well, it was petrifying. Like my feet had turned to stone and my blood was made of ice. We froze, all of us. The young man, he tried to get up, but the maniac clubbed him down. Strong, hard. I felt something crack, and when he went down with muffled screams, I could see it was his jawbone. The maniac was strong. Like I said, probably taking some of those drugs you get in Freedom City. Then we saw Lament. He was more like a vision, you know? Faint, blurred. There but not there. What did he look like? Like one of those voodoo zombies you see in the movies. Top hat, high as you like, white skull paint, black skin like dark night, and a raggedy purple suit, feet bare even in that cold. And he had this laugh, so hollow and full, like a blast of emptiness than echoes around our diner. I swear, on some nights I can still hear it, echoing still. Now it was the maniac’s turn to be terrified. I could see it, the way he gripped the flamethrower. Some people freeze, he turned angry. “Get out of here man, or I’ll burn the place down!” Lament, he just laughed, and have this deep rumbling voice. A man you had to listen to, if you know what I mean. “You will burn the place down if I leave…” And I’m sure that were the truth. Lament, he seemed fixed on the man. I’m not sure if he even knew we were there, although I am mighty glad he was. Something horrible and black in his eyes, and before you know it the maniac screamed. Like his soul was being plunged into an infinitely dark hole. I couldn’t rightly say what he screamed, but it was like the worst despair I could ever imagine. You ever get sad? You ever wake up thinking the world was sunless and bleak? Like that, I guess, but a hundred times over. He sunk to his knees. I think if he had had the energy he would have put that flame thrower in his mouth and incinerated his own head, but he didn’t even seem to have the will to do that. Lament walks in, and I can see him now, properly. He even tips his top hat and gives me a grin, full of pearly white teeth. “Don’t trouble yourself about this gentleman, Madam, for he will surely be no trouble no more” he said, even giving me a bit of a bow. Bit of a gentleman. Likes a good show. That’s what I thought, although I still couldn’t move a muscle or get my mouth to work. I reckon I gurgled a bit. Not quite myself, I was. So Lament, with a flourish, a show, to emphasise his point, reached out and grabbed the man with one of his arms. Something purple and oily in his hand, something like, I don’t know, a big southern leech sucking. And then the Maniac falls down, cold. I thought he was dead for a moment, but he was still breathing. Just like all his life, his energy, had gone. Sucked clean. Lament comes over, has a cup of coffee. Takes a chilli fry, tells me how “darn fine” they were, and suggests I phone the cops and an ambulance. I think I got out something. “Thank you” maybe. I don’t really recall what I said, or even if I got it out. I hope I did. He was a terrifying figure, but there was, hmmm, how do I put it, something polite about him. And with that, he tipped his hat again, and gave a wink. Walked out, whistling some tune or another. Never did get to findin’ out what it was, but I tell you, I’ve been whistling it ever since…