Supercape

"We can go to Wharton Forest...." GM a half hour later, as the sun set and cast a red shadow.... Wharton Forest... The trip was only remarkable for the nerves of Wesley. The count walked unaided, but slow. Every moment with him, the sense of horror when looking at him grew. By the end of the trip, Wesley refused to even look in his direction. The big Russian pilot also drove them, in an extremely large 4x4. A few objects, a few books, almost certainly arcane, and all under heavy wraps of thick purple curtains, went in the car with them. The Count forbade any peeking. "I would not share these things but for most dire circumstance. And you would not want them shared, unless you wish to share my affliction" he explained. "But I would have them with me, if such dire circumstances arise. If you do need them then, then I apologise for what you will behold..." The 4x4 trudged through barely present tracks, slowly but doggedly. The Count seemed to be in a trance, almost dead. Every now and again, he faintly gave instruction to the Russian about which direction to take. "You wanting gun?" asked the Russian, offering a slightly old but obviously serviceable shotgun to Presto and Wesley.

As I have a spare slot, the PL 10/180 PP build of the Handyman. Again, opinions gratefully received. Aside from the issue of teleportation attack being technically banned by the site (which, after discussion with chat, I think most if not everyone agrees could be waived as this build specifically makes the issues / abuse of that power impossible), opinions on the "Quick use" exttra for the teleport attack. Personally I think its reasonable; It does allow a disarm and an attack in one round, although thats not much difference from linking two effects together - and unless he happens to be able to pull in a truly awesome weapon, its going to be a less powerful attack than his normal "damage" effect, a perception range damage 10 one. Its more of a flavour thing really, like grabbing a thugs gun and shooting it with him in one cool fluid motion. Still, thoughts....? Character Name The Handyman Power Level: 10/12 (180/180) Unspent Power Points: 0 Trade-Offs: None In Brief: Teleporting Ex-crook turned AEGIS agent. Catchphrase: “I’ll take that…” Alternate Identity: Sebastian Black Birthplace: Freedom City Residence: Freedom City, The Boardwalk (Apartment) Occupation: AEGIS agent, Gambler Affiliations: AEGIS Family: Amber Black, Sister (Jazz Singer), Ace Black, Brother (Marine), Daisy Black, Mother (Elderly and Infirm) Description: Age: 32 Apparent Age: 32 Gender: Male Ethnicity: Caucasian Height: 5’10” Weight: 75Kgs Eyes: Blue Hair: Black The Handyman, as an AEGIS agent, wears a black fedora, coat and costume. He wears an eye-mask to conceal his identity. This is unusual for an AEGIS agent, but done so that nobody recognises him as an ex-crook. He is a man in reasonable, but not exceptional, physical shape. History: Blessed with nimble fingers, sharp mind, and smooth tongue, Sebastian Black soon became a gambler, a cheat, and a thief. He was pretty good at it, and amassed a small fortune. He also amassed a Quantum Field Gun, an experimental weapon stolen off a Russian scientist. The QFG was very effective, but also completely unreliable. When Sebastian tried to use it, it blew up in his face. The field generator did not do his brain any favours (and in fact has given him epilepsy), but allowed him the ability to generate quantum entanglement fields himself – namely, teleportation abilities. Flush with the disorientation of his accident and his new powers, Sebastian was busted by Foreshadow. Faced with either a long jail sentence, he agreed to undergo intensive, experimental physical and mental rehabilitation with AEGIS. Personality & Motivation: The Handyman is actually a people person. He likes people, talking, friends, and is naturally inclined to look after them. Broadly. He also has compulsive lying, stealing, and cheating behaviours. Experimental hardcore AEGIS psychological “rehabilitation” has made him unquestioningly loyal to AEGIS, the government and the military. This has left him with slightly paranoid and suspicious traits. Powers & Tactics: The Handyman can cause specific local quantum field effects. He can teleport himself short distances. He can also teleport distant things into his hands, either to disarm people, grab objects, or even take out chunks (damaging them). With concentration, he can even teleport air into his hand, suffocating his opponent. His “accident” has also rendered him naturally superhumanly resilient to harm, although not impervious to it. Aside from his acquired power, the Handyman is a skilled thief and conman, and has additional AEGIS operative training. He is also a skilled marksman, and can throw things like playing cards with great force. Whilst the Handyman likes to deceive, negotiate and steal to solve problems, in a fight he will try to maintain mobility, teleporting around, and will always disarm opponents who carry dangerous objects. If needs be, he will throw his playing cards at opponents. Whilst an able hand to hand fighter, he will avoid such fights if he can. Power Descriptions: The Handymans teleportation powers make an audible “pop” sound with a slight smell of ozone at the point of departure and arrival. Complications: Kleptomaniac, Gambler, and Cheat For all his rehabilitation, the Handyman is obsessive-compulsive in all these areas. He might not do major crimes like bank robbery, but he fights urges to pickpocket, gamble, and cheat at cards all the time. Whilst there is some acceptance (due to his value and mitigating circumstances) of these crimes, it can still land him in hot water. Psychological Programming As a result of his intense and experimental psychological treatment, the Handyman is unquestioningly loyal to AEGIS and (to only slightly less intensity) the Government, the State, and the Military. Due to his other psychological problems, it does not apply to the Police. Nevertheless, this programming could be used against him by deceptive or cunning individuals (or groups), especially if they have appropriate psychology training or access to his AEGIS medical records. History / Secret ID / Mask Back when the Handyman was plain old Sebastian Black, he scammed and cheated (or even fairly beat) a lot of rich and powerful people. If they recognise him, they might be ill disposed or malignant. This list might include heads of state, royalty, businessmen, or criminals. It is for this reason that the Handyman wears a mask. His actual ID can be found out (not easily, but certainly with effort). The flip side is that whist he wears a mask, he might be treated with suspicion regarding his AEGIS agent status. Point and Click Due to the explosive nature of his power acquisition, the Handyman has a psychological block on his powers. He must point his finger and click his fingers, like a play gun, in order to teleport somewhere, or teleport something into his hand. Epilepsy the Handyman has acquired epilepsy. This is normally controlled by medication, but if deprived of his twice-daily dose, or exposed to other pro-convulsant effects (like flashing lights or large doses of caffeine), it might resurface, especially at times of stress. Scrambled Brains If exposed to Quantum field effects again, his brain can get scrambled (as it was when he had his accident). “Quantum” descriptor effects (other than his own powers, unless, plausibly, he uses them excessively) might cause confusion, panic, distraction, or a seizure. Abilities: 2 + 12 + 2 + 6 + 4 + 6 = 32 Strength: 12 (+1) Dexterity: 22 (+6) Constitution: 12 (+1) Intelligence: 16 (+3) Wisdom: 14 (+2) Charisma: 16 (+3) Combat: 20 + 20 = 40 Initiative: +6 Attack: +10 Defense: +10, +5 Flat Footed Grapple: +11 Knockback: -5 Saving Throws: 5 + 4 + 6 = 15 Toughness: +10 (+1 Con, +9 Protection) Fortitude: +6 (+1 Con, +5) Reflex: +10 (+6 Dex, +4) Will: +8 (+2 Wis, +6) Skills: 96 R = 24 PP Acrobatics 4 (+10) Skill Mastery Bluff 8 (+11) Computers 4 (+7) Diplomacy 4 (+7) Disguise 4 (+7) Drive 4 (+10) Skill Mastery Escape Artist 4 (+10) Skill Mastery Gather Information 4 (+7) Intimidate 4 (+7) Investigate 4 (+7) Knowledge (Behavioural Sciences) 4 (+7) Knowledge (Civics) 4 (+7) Knowledge (Current Events) 4 (+7) Knowledge (Streetwise) 4 (+7) Language 2 (English [Native], French, Spanish) Notice 8 (+10) Search 4 (+7) Sense Motive 8 (+10) Sleight of Hand 14 (+20) Skill Mastery Feats: 10 PP Benefit 1 (AEGIS clearance) Precise Shot 2 Skill Mastery (Acrobatics, Drive, Escape Artist, Sleight of Hand) Throwing Mastery Equipment – 0 PP Playing Cards Flashlight Cellphone Powers: 9 + 42 + 100 = 61 Protection 7 [7 PP] Quantum Field Array (40 PP Array, Feats: Alt Power 2) [42 PP] BP: Teleport 10 (Extras: Attack [Reflex], Quick Use*, Perception Range [+2], Flaws: Short Range, Limited [Teleport into his hand only]) [40/40PP] “Into the hand” *Quick Use: By taking a full round action, the Handyman can teleport something into his hand, and, if successful also use it (most typically, initiating a grapple, or attacking with the device). Essentially this is a very limited Action extra (allowing a disarm and then attacking with the disarmed device as a full round). NB: As the Handyman can only teleport things into his hand, he could not use this power to teleport people into the air or into hazardous materials (unless he was in such peril himself) AP: Damage 10 (Extras: Penetrating, Perception) [40/40 PP] “Take a chunk” AP: Suffocate 10 (Extras: Perception) [40/40 PP] “Suck out the air” Teleport 10 (1000’, Flaws: Short Range) [10 PP] Drawbacks: 2 PP Vulnerability (Fear and Intimidation Effects; Frequency: Common; Intensity: Minor [+1]) [-2PP] “Rehabilitation trauma” DC Block ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed Touch DC 16 Toughness Damage Teleport Perception DC 25 Reflex Teleported Damage Perception DC 25 Toughness Damage Suffocate Perception DC 25 Fort Suffocation Playing Cards 10’/50’ DC 20 Toughness Damage Totals: Abilities 32 + Skills 24 + Feats 10 + Powers 61 + Combat 40 + Saves 15 – Drawbacks 2 = 180/180 PP

GM "My brother is both greater and lesser than I" replied the Count. One could almost imagine his face crawling, repulsive despite every sign that it was just an old man. "Younger by decades, brave, courageous. An explorer. An adventurer. He should have be born a hundred years ago, when their were more frontiers to traverse. Yet, for all his strength and steel, he is not as wise or clever as I" "That sounds arrogant, I know, but it is the truth, and the truth will serve us best. He is no fool. He is a scientist, with a sound mind, but he does not have my nuances, or experience. He is a man of drive but not judgement. Not malign, no, just a man driven to explore whatever the cost, to himself or others" he explained. His tea, untouched. "But I am not a mind reader" he explained. "He may know more, or may know less. But by my judgement he is a fool who sees things dimly, without heed to consequence".

"Coffee, sweet Arabian wine!" mumbled Flint, slowly returning to relative sobriety. She kind of wished she was still blind drunk. Summoning Dagons spirit was not going to be pleasant. "Anywhere will do. Meaning, right here!" she said, stamping her foot heartily. "This is a very...American....place..." she commented, diplomatically, eyes spinning the horizon. Ignoring the American place for now, she put the dread tome on the floor and traced her finger over the unpleasant words and equally unpleasant diagrams. "Alhezred Cthuaga Nicto Nyarlothotep...Ignath' Cthuaga Huull...." she chanted, over and over again. "Muuaga Mu Leng Diath'th...Ry'leh Dagon! Ry'leh Dagon!!!" A rotting fish smell filled the air. It seemed cold, and dim. A pale wind that clung, humid and clammy to ones skin, started to blow. "It won't be long now...he is coming..." And one could feel it. "If you have any tricks for a God, or any steeling of your heart, then know is the time to grasp them, my friends...muahahahaha" she laughed, crazily.

Probably want a diplomacy roll here, but post your IC reply (or action) too!

"I ain't telling you my name" replied Tin Hat, suspiciously. "You might activate the microchip!" he explained, pointing between his eyes. "Who are you? What do you want? Stop reading my mind! You got the radiobeamatrons, don't you? Turn em off! Turn em off!" he said, angry, but with a hint of sadness and fear. He gripped his cudgel in both spade like hands, shaking it in a threatening manner, before spotting the four unconscious bodies lying in the sewer muck by Echo. "Who are they? What did you do to them? They come to take me away again? Restrain me? Inject me? Never again! Tin Hat knows the truth! Its all the psychomactics they put in the water!" He paused for a moment, frowning, trying to concentrate. "You putting psychomactics in the sewers too, now?" he asked, half question, half accusation.

The ritual itself was awful, although admittedly compared to the clammy mists of Leng, a lesser horror. Clibing up to the top of a nearby building via drainpipes and old iron fire escapes, she laid out her parchments, inks, and black lamp. Into the latter, horrible oils from the kraken, an Arabian spice, and a petrified, almost putrid, avian eyeball. The lamp smoked and gave out an unpleasant sweet smell than curled the hairs in ones nose. Aza Har'Cthen...Aza Har'Cthen...Toka Yog-Sothooth Ibramhim! Invoking the name of the idiot Gods of the universe was not done lightly, especially with the smoke around them. For a second, she saw spinning morons, dancing unseen to unheard pipes in dimensions unknowable. Then, mercifcully, before her brain fried, the mists of time parted, and she was spinning herself, in a trance, sprawled out on the roof, while her mind went back to events the day before...

Works for me!

Basically its looking like Postcognition [4 PP] Thats a whopping 16 hours of research back at the black flag. Halved by taking -5 Penalty, to 8 hours. Taking 10 on that, for a 30 result would garuantee success (DC 14, with -5 penalty) The Ritual itself would take 40 minutes to perform, DC 14 so again. So about 8 1/2 hours; but I have lost track of time a bit, I actually make it Monday? In any case, what she will probably need is to get a room or view over the warehouse, and cast the ritual from there, and see what transpired before and after and indeed during the mystery assault. am I making sense ?

So going to suggest a few of the Crew (Pete, Razor, Lucy, and Giner) stake out the Pub for Cik (which might happen off camera? your call) Going back to the warehouse meeting cautiously. It might be time to do another ritual - postcognition? find out what happened?

Parkour...that would be the girl...damned French! So crazy! She was in no particular rush, as she understood things. But then again, maybe she did not understand things. The cargo was missing, her purse had been stolen, but on the other hand those things would be just as true and no more pressing tomorrow, or indeed the day after. She did not want to drop the thief from her reckoning, but Cik was surely faster and more nimble than Captain Flintlock, although it was a sting to admit it. Much as Flintlock would like to cross swords again (literally cross swords), Cik would take one look at her, recognise her, run, and be away. SHe made her excuses and a final throw of a dart, and left, feeling sober again. One Eyed Pete was outside. He was no fool, but her crew were not hired for their brains. "I need the crew to stake out this place on Monday. A girl named Cik is coming that evening. You, Rose, Lucy and Razor. Behave yourselves" she ordered. "Aye aye cap'n" smiled One eyed Pete, a massive grin on his face. Asked to hang out in a pub the evening? A fine business, to his mind. Flintlock contemplated commanding their sobriety, but knew that such an order would only propel them to greater inebriation. They would just have to catch Cik drunk. She sighed inwardly. And now, it was time to return to the wreckage of the meeting she had abandoned, to see what the fallout was. And perhaps pierce the veil of time to see what had truly happened....

GM "Yes, I do" said the Count, weakly. "Things have been locked away under Wharton State Forest. Things from another age, another world. The time of Lemuria, the serpent people. Agents of the Unspeakable one. Some say it is merely a resting place for the dead. They are not wholly wrong, for the dead but slumber, if dead they are at all" he continued, his hands pressed together, his face pained. "And what concerns me is an account I have read in several texts that should not be read at all. Guarded by eternally bound undead. Quite what it is, is beyond my perception. Something that eats flesh and form, incorporeal, from another world, something of fire" he explained, somewhat cryptically. "If this thing could feed, it will burn. Maybe it will just flee this world, leaving behind the bones of its feast. I hope so" Wesley felt faint. "Oh...yeah...well that's more serious than I wanted..." he said weakly. "The texts refer to many names. The ghost that burns, The faceless eater, The star of unlight" continued the Count. "It would be foolish to speculate much further. It is surely dangerous, it is surely alien"

GM "What? Something coming...wait....?" said Jack, standing up straight. He pressed his finger to his ear again, concentrating. "Yeah, I hear..." Even in the semi-dark, a glint could be seen. Something man-shaped, large and tall, came lurking. "Razzafrazin' what now? Come to get me, have ya? Come to get ol' Tin-hat? How ya find me?" came the mumbling. "I got protection...damn CIA put chips in ma head, ya picking them up? I can hear ya...I can hear ya...." Tin hat was a large man, over six feet and broad too. His reputation as a street fighter was probably well deserved. His nose was broken, and he had more than one or two scars. He was filthy and ragged, carrying a cudgel that he leaned on, and which sloshed around the filth beneath him. "'Ol' tin hat knows! Ol' tin hat knows!" He was about forty, although guessing the age of such a weathered man was difficult at best. His eyes glinted in the half light, but then again, so did the tin-foil helmet he had fashioned for himself, that fitted his scalp perfectly.

Why not? Flintlock started throwing darts. She wasn't bad, but she wasn't particularly good either. After hundreds of years she had done plenty, but darts, not so much. Still, it didn't look like the competition was particularly fierce. It was not the world championships. "So, my friend. This Cik lady. What kind of name is that?" she asked, unfamiliar with any such name. At least, on this world. "Some kind of rapscallion is she? My favourite kind of person! How would I meet her?" She hoped she did not sound like a crazed stalker. It was, probably, a forlorn hope, but still. Three hundred years was a long time, and even with her strange worlds, boredom could loom. But it had been some time since she had danced with pretty young girls, and she wagered it would be some time until she danced again. Men were her flavour, although, she conceded, as the years passed and the scars grew livid, even those pleasures had felt more grey. Enough of the melancholia! That way, madness lies! "She sounds like a gal to meet!" she said, brightly.

SUre thing. lets see how it goes!

So let me know if you want a Scene cut: Broadly speaking I was wondering if Grimalkin and Flintlock do the ritual, and bluff Dagon, Gretch whips off and stabs the heart. Some low PL action!

"Aye, that seems dandy" replied Flintlock, pressing her temples as if the vice like pincer movement would squeeze the alochol from her brain. "The trick will be, however, to recite the ritual, and contact Dagon, and at the same time destroy his heart. Therein lies the rub. For only whilst the ritual is active will his heart be vulnerable. So you may need to send your little helper here to do that. Bring a knife. Or a fork. Perhaps both" she suggested to Gretchen. And with that, she dived into the portal. "Ah the great outdoors!" she said, getting herself, as suggested, comfy. "I've slept on worse. So if I do pass out, make sure you wake me up. Bring some coffee...."

GM "I am an old man. And not well" replied the Count, weakly. "And I am cursed. Do you not feel it? Something in the air, something telling you I am horrible, something telling you that this is not right?" In this matter, the Count was not wrong. The longer you looked at him, the more something felt wrong. He might look like an old man, of whom the worst could be said that he had a slightly stuffy air, but it felt like one was looking at something terrible and malign. And there was that faint creeping smell, that lingered on the skin. Like rotting fish, or marshlands. "Yeah...I mean....I don't feel so great" mumbled Wesley. "You delve too deeply, you get burned. I was fortunate the calamity that I unleashed was only personal in effect" said the Count, staying in his chair. He left his tea. It was cold. "My family seem to have been born to unearth, unveil, and possess that should remain hidden and unknown. I have been successful and unfortunate in these endeavours. My brother, he is less experienced, less successful, and less wise in these matters" "For long he has distracted himself with mountaineering and exploring. He has climbed every peak in the world, and met many hidden tribes and cultures. And slowly, he has crept towards the occult. And now, he has found something in Wharton Forest. I believe an ancient burial site of the native Americans" "I fear not much for my brother. The truth be told, we are not fond of one another. We are distanced and apart. But I do fear for what he might unleash. I now understand that the Schwarz blood is rich and powerful, and both my brother and I have an uncanny ability to unleash the worst, and magnify the most..."

GM The interior of the plane was most splendid. Wooden, antique, comfortable leather chairs. And dark, dim. Even dusty. The pilot lead them inside. The Count was sitting in a big leather chair, in the centre. The windows blacked out. Around them, books, ornaments, art. A large mirror, a statue, a few paintings, covered with dusty purple covers to conceal them from prying eyes, only the shapes remaining, hinting at something underneath. The Count was an old man with thinning white hair and black eyes, lean, of average build. Something aristocratic about his nose. A square jaw, or at least it would have been thirty years ago. He wore an elegant, well cut black suit, and a monocle which seemed to be of a dull gold. There was an unpleasant, clammy, almost fishy smell to the air that seemed to crawl up ones nostrils and into ones skin, without being overpowering. However you looked at the old Count, when one did, Presto had an unpleasant, nauseating feeling. As if he was looking at something rotting and horrible rather than merely an elegant old man. "Please, sit. We have a tea" gestured the Count in a faint, almost tremulous voice. He gestured to the teapot and cups next to him. One could smell earl grey tea, but its aroma was marred by the faint but unpleasant smell that lingered. "I am glad you came. I could do with your help" he said, looking at the two of them, but with eyes that drifted mainly to Presto. "If you are willing to help an old man" he said, faintly. "I only have my pilot. Nobody else must see me. This is...difficult..." he said, wheezing slightly. "I have come to stop my Brother. The fool is digging up something in Wharton Forest that I believe he should not..."

GM There was a brief, steely pause as the pilot looked and studied. He barely moved, like he was carved of ice or granite. "Count Schwarz is knowing of the you" he concluded. "I am being the instructed to invites you to meet Count. Please be the entering" he said, a voice deep and scared. He waved one hand in, turning slightly, a gesture of invitation. "Holy thundercrap!" exclaimed Wesley. "Meeting the Count! We gotta go! We gotta go!" he said, gripping Presto with iron fingers that were clearly possessed of a transient strength out of keeping with his small, and unimposing frame. Such was adrenaline and excitement. "I mean, I'm right behind you. I gotta confess I's scared ghostlike" he babbled, his face indeed pale, and clammy. "But we still gotta go. Just...just if he turns me into a toad, please turn me back!"

GM "Yeah sure, I mean, think positive, right!" agreed a more enthusiastic Wesley, clicking two "thumbs up" signs with his hands, in what he surely thought was a cool pose. "You can bet Ill stay behind you if it all goes bad. I mean, waaay behind you... I don't want to get turned into a toad octopus or anything..." he said. The door of the plane hissed open. Wesley jumped behind Presto. "Like this!" he explained, clutching at Presto's tailcoat. From the plane, a tall, broad, strong man came. He stood at the top of the staircase, not moving, dressed in vague pilot clothes and mirrored aviator sunglasses. His jaw was strong, his hair cropped short, and he had a faint scar or two. He nose looked like it had been broken and reset more than a few times. His accent seemed Russian. His English adequate, but not good. "Count Schwarz asking who is the you both" he said, folding his arms and looking solid, impassive.

GM "Collector of strange objects, owner of mysterious arcane library. Obsessive-compulsive. Deeply paranoid" guessed Wesley. "Look man, I ain't a shrink. I can give you a stream of rumours about this man, everything from being an alien, to the founder of the Thrule society, to being an bastard offspring of the unspeakable one himself!" he shuddered. "But truth is, nobody knows anything about him. Aside from being rich and Austrian" "And, I guess, mad" he concluded, in hushed tones. There was indeed something silent and mad about the airfield, almost deserted, bar the solitary aircraft which made not a sound. If the occupants were aware of Wesley and Presto, they were not advertising the fact. "If there is one thing we can guess, is that the Count is obsessive about magic. He is a collector. At least of knowledge and art. Some say people, too, but that's just paranoid rumour. I hope..." "Even his brother has maintained he has not seen the Count himself in years..."

You can make a DC 15 Notice check: If you make it, you can hear one person coming, and soft mumbling. However, the direction is very hard to make out, due to echoes and the complex old network of tunnels. To do so would be a DC 25 Notice check (not to pinpoint, but to work out aproximately where it is coming from). For plot purposes, Jacks ESP hearing wont help here (at least, not in the short / immediate term).

GM Jack turned back on his flashlight to examine the four prostrate bodies. "Never seen anything like that before. I mean, never seen anything like these guys before, and never seen anyone knock four people out in the space of time it takes me to scoop the shattered remains of my jaw off the floor" he explained. The four men (or in the case of the leader, woman) were wearing the same uniform. White. Clinical. And completely unmarked. Their guns seemed to fire darts, full of some clear fluid, rather than bullets, They did indeed carry medical equipment - something a little odd, or unusual, in their design. Handcuffs, restraints, tasers. All non-lethal. "Looks like a cross between a paramedic crew and snatch squad, if you ask me. Searching for a doctor? between this lot and radioactive zombies, this gotta be the weirdest day of my life..." he said, scratching his head. The men were out cold, but who knew for how long? And in the almost pure dark, and certainly pure stench of the sewers, something else could be heard coming their way. Something quiet, full of echoes...

GM "Jenny. Jenny X" said Jenny X, her smiling face over the vidlink. "I'm Dawynes...well..." she paused, coy. "I'm Dwaynes...friend" she said, vaguely, still smiling. At Dwayne, who had peeked over his sisters shoulder to get a look at his friend. "She is totally awesome!" he whispered, loudly, in his "sisters" ear. "Look, I know you might be worried. But Dwayne is pretty awesome! He knows his way around computers and stuff. Got a gift. Even if he is a bit, well, unique" Dwayne dug fingers into his sister's shoulders. "Look, I'd love to meet up with you Dwayne, but, you know, perhaps in private?" she asked, a bit nervously. "Please!" whispered Dwayne, again to loudly...