Thunder King

8 for Reflex, oh, that's not good. 14 for toughness. That's...not going to work. HP! 22 MUCH Better

John's going to power attack by 3, to test the waters and see if he can sucker punch him a bit. 15 ...may not do him any good. IT's a DC26 TOU save if he does hit, though.

Initiative, John's going in swinging; 25

John cracked his neck and growled. "Bad luck and I are old friends." He said. "I get that you're pissed, but I can't let you kill all these people." He thought about trying to talk him down, but no. This guy wasn't going to be reasonable. He wasn't going to listen, and every second he wasted put more lives at risk. This man was going to kill a hundred people to get at one. John was going to say no.

John stood up. If he went to Blowfish, Amber might get in trouble, and possibly die. If he approached the stage, he'd draw their ire. If he called out a fire, he'd create a panic. There were no perfect solutions. There might not be a way to save everyone. He had to minimize the loss of life, damage control. So, he headed towards the backstage area. He'd find where the smoke was coming from, and try to put it out. He wasn't going to play by Blowfish's rules.

John groaned internally. "I can get us out." He said. "Just calm down and nobody has to get hurt or die." He said. "Panic will kill more people than the fire." He looked her in the eye and shifted his appearance to another, fresh face, and back. "Relax. We'll get everyone out, and the Bad Beat can burn for Blowfish's sins." He stood up and looked up at the stage. He could blow the doors open. He could try something. He could talk to Blowfish, he could make an announcement. He had to get these people out.

John muttered some harsh, vulgar words and turned to Jane. "Do you smell that?" He asked, he looked around. He had time, but precious little of it. If Jane knew anything, maybe he could bargain with her. Save these lives, just get Amber out of town. There wasn't much he could do otherwise. Except, perhaps, go all out.

Notice; 29 Sense Motive; 27

John watched Blowfish out of the corner of his eye. He was agitated. Amber was clearly showing off a bit, probably poking at him. Blowfish wasn't stupid enough to kill two of his top talents, was he? Was he seriously that short sighted, especially given the mediocre opening act? John reasoned that yes, he probably was. People like him wanted control, but often times, the tighter you squeezed, the less control you had. John watched the show. He began to formulate an idea in his mind. Get Amber out of there. He reasoned he could probably get out of the building, he had enough to pay to get Amber out of town if need be. A long, lonely bus ride to somewhere else, but was that feasible? He watched, and listened.

John understood, but said nothing. He could probably trust her to be honest about that, but he also couldn't trust anyone in Bedlam, not really. "Know who did it?" He asked. He had to be careful. Nobody was allowed to even say her name. He didn't think he could put anyone away, but if he could hurt the Bad Beat in some way, that was fine by him. Even if Blowfish didn't do the deed himself, he was clearly dirty anyway. He considered trying to get Amber out of here. Could give her a bus ticket, maybe. Get her out of town, maybe. He considered the angles and waited. He knew the price of taking action without making plans.

A drink was a small price to pay, but he still intended to watch what she had to say. "Sure." He said. "I'll buy you a drink." He watched Amber and relaxed, or seemed to. He was watching her, watching the crowd. He was seeing how things went, how they were handled. Blowfish was muscling into Bedlam from outside. That was interesting. He wondered what kind of power that had to take. Still, the Bad Beat was his pride and joy, the center of his empire. He had all his eggs in one basket, and John knew he could hit it and destroy him if he needed to.

John was instantly more interested. Mentioning Vanity aloud was not a good idea, so this woman had a reason. "Honestly just wanted to say hi to the owner of this place." He shrugged. "Who's Vanity. Old performer? Leave with a record deal or something?" He needed to keep his cards close to his chest, he knew. He could handle Blowfish's thugs. He could not handle a whole crowd of men with guns.

John was intrigued. He had no intention of getting involved, but if the woman was interested, well, it might be bait, but he might get something done if he risked a nibble. He assumed absolutely no one in the Bad Beat could be trusted, not even Amber. Though after getting shot in the back of the head and left for dead, he supposed trust issues made sense. So he got up and walked over towards the woman. "She's quite the talent." He said, motioning towards the stage.

John shrugged. "Just wanted to greet the owner of this lovely establishment." He said. Blowfish was not as powerful as he wanted to be. His club was fairly small, reputable for certain kinds of entertainment, but his power base was not what it could be. John knew Blowfish would have a tight hold on Amber, so it was better not to worry about that. "Sorry to bother you." He smiled. "I'm going to go enjoy the show."

"Thanks for the drink" He said, taking a sip. "I figured you were the man in charge. I'm James McDonald. I heard about this place a few weeks ago and finally got the motivation to come in. On my way in I heard about Amber and, well, curiosity got the better of me." He looked over to the stage. "This is a world where money talks, right, and money is the loudest voice in Bedlam." He waited for Amber. As he stood there, watching, he considered how best to hit Blowfish. He knew asking about Vanity would be a bad idea, but how to get information?

John walked up to the man. "Hell of a place you have here, sir. I've heard the name. Amber? Beautiful girl, beautiful voice?" He said politely, with an easy smile. "Looking forward to the show. Heard good things." He shrugged off the opening act. "People are mingling anyway. I'm sure the main event will knock my socks off." He imagined some of the goons were armed. Probably what they could scrape up. John could shrug off a lot, but he didn't like bullets.

John smiled politely and walked in to the club. That, that was suspicious. He tried his best to look normal, and knew something might come up. He suspected that the woman might not be normal, in the same way he was. Either way, he decided to relax a bit. He'd brought enough cash for a few drinks, so he wandered towards the bar. He figured he could observe the club a bit better from there.

John is going to pay keen attention to the surroundings if he can, using his accurate audio super-sense to listen for the words Vanity and Amber. All while looking nonchalant, of course. 30

John was in the suit, looking dapper and calm. Not the least bit intoxicated. He listened to the crowd, finding it much easier to pick out sounds than it ever was before. He wanted inside the club so he could get closer to the stage. Whether he did anything tonight, he wasn't sure. He would seize any opportunities, but wouldn't force them. He'd keep his head down, order a few drinks, mingle a bit, but mostly pay attention. If anything caught his attention, he intended to pounce on it.

John went back to his motel room and searched through his belongings. He had a nice suit available, charcoal gray with a black tie over a light gray shirt. He would change his shape once he got closer to the club. This face was better looking. Strong jaw, easy smile. John shoved some cash into a wallet in case he needed go grease some palms. He packed the suit carefully into a suitcase to change into later. He would roof run across the city, find a place to stash the suitcase, and change into the suit, before walking up to the front door, looking dapper, suave, and, above all, important.

John considered the idea. He knew the old man was mostly safe, but he was also concerned that if things got dirty, old Dick might end up in the crossfire. "I have ways of getting in where I might not be welcome." He said. "I can get into the club. I appreciate your help, but I too was a cop once. I know the drill." Blowfish, he'd remember that name, Amber, too. Maybe he could take Amber from them. Get her safe, get her out of town. That would be a real hit to whoever killed Vanity, that was for sure.

"Friend of mine gave my your name, his name is Fat Joe." He said. "There was a killing, singer named Vanity. She sang at the Bad Beat. I was thinking maybe I can figure out what happened to her, start a bit of a fire. I need a match. Can you help me?" John glanced around the room. It was evident to Dick that John was a cautious sort. John guessed that Dick would understand. You didn't get involved in Bedlam unless you learned to be cautious.

John tried his best not to chuckle at the name on the cat's bowl. Old man had a strange sense of humor. He didn't want to bother the man, just had some questions. John looked down at the man and sighed. Best be kind. "Excuse me, Sir. Dick Young?" He said, trying to stay quiet but also trying to be loud enough to make him wake up. "I have some questions. Don't worry, I won't hurt you."

He found Vanity's obituary. It was short, succinct. He wondered who put it in the paper. Possibly some fan. Dick Young was an old, retired cop, might know a few things. John decided not to give him a call, rather, looked up his phone number. Bedlam cops didn't generally make it to retirement clean. John didn't survive that long. Still, clean in Bedlam was relative. Even some cops on the take could be trusted to do their jobs to an extent. Young lived in a small, modest home. John knew he was an old man, didn't want him scared to death. So, he just let himself in and resolved to keep things calm.

Okay, so, Streetwise to see if he can remember where the Bad Beat might be; http://orokos.com/roll/505324 13 might not help. Plus a Current Events roll to see if he's heard any news; http://orokos.com/roll/505325 14...not much better