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GM Thursday, September 22nd, 2016 Common Room, The Dorms, Claremont Academy 6:20 PM It was one of those days. School had been quite average, the lessons as bland as ever. But now, school was over, and people had retreated to the dorms. Some spent their time studying for the upcoming tests, some simply relaxed, others pursued their hobbies. Everything was business as usual, some people had left the dorms to do stuff in the city, some were in their rooms, usually sitting at their desks, while the average crowd had gathered in the common room. Some played darts, some watched TV, a few were gathering around the pool and ping pong tables that had been set up too. Jake Cross had just finally been able to leave the school building and return to the dorm, after some slight troubles he’d gotten into. He entered into the common room, being greeted by a crowd of “oh”s and “ah”s, most of them coming from the group that had gathered around the Pool Table. The people behind it, a group of students, some of them a year older than Jake, others in his class. They were not very notable in any means, had various powers and average grades, only stood out due to being a clique. The noises were something Jake had started to grow accustomed to, it happened quite often. But, today was not a usual day, and his patience had already been tested. Worst of all, one of them, the closest thing they had to a leader, moved away from the pool table and looked at Jake. He was a 17-year old guy, average looks, blond hair. Jake had no idea what his powers were, all he knew that this guy had started the entire thing, and was the one that did it the most. “Hey Cross. What’d you do this time? Another one of those little incidents they want us to forget?” He turned around to look at his clique again, speaking loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. A few people, both from the clique, but also others in the room, began to smile a bit, a slimy smile, one that proved they knew exactly what they were doing here. “I’m telling you, it’s only days before he finally does it. Powers like his corrupt, one day he’ll just do it, I’m telling you.”

Quinn, I want you to make a Nauseate check vs. DC 18. Immunity to Fire Effects doesn't make you immune to hot peppers.

Friday, August 26th, 2016 The Athletic Field, Claremont Academy, Bayview 8:14 PM The sun was beginning to set, the Academy’s main building, located to the south catching a last few glimpses of sunlight. Most of the school’s students had returned or arrived already, in preparation of the new school year starting in just three days. Some had also stayed through the break, or arrived earlier, earlier in their summer break. Among the latter group were Jann Fa-Re, Selena Kwon and Alexander Lloydd, all of whom had been at the school for at least a few weeks now. They all got along, so they had been spending time together, and were doing so right now. While many of the students attended the Kick-Off Dance held in the gym, or were out in the streets of Freedom City doing their own thing, these three had decided to take the relative silence this day would offer, with most people doing the best with their last few days of break-time, to work on something. They had planned it, they had acquired the supplies they needed through various ways, and as the sun was now setting, it was time to put the plan into motion. Meanwhile, a few dozen feet to the south, Naomi Suleiman was spending her time inside her room. A dance did not interest her much, so she just was inside her room for now. Suddenly, something caught her attention. Through her window, she saw a group of people, three or so, flying above the athletic field. It was something unusual for a variety of reasons, including the fact almost everybody was currently at the dance.

September 4, 2016 Liberty Park, Freedom City Lunchtime The Labor Day cookout was in full gear this year in Liberty Park, the city's largest green spot being covered in colorful tents and packed shoulder-to-jowl with cheerful citizens. Children and parents were celebrating the first long weekend after the start of school, salarimen were relishing the extra day of repose, and just about everyone was enjoying the last burst of summery weather before the inevitable decline into gray, snow, and cold. Tents had been organized along the road-side edge of the park, offering BBQ and face painting and fried food and local art and cold drinks and local radio personalities. In particular, grills and smoke and savory flavors were enveloping the northern corner. A raised platform had been put together and a long table laid down there, with a bright banner above it and speakers affixed at the highest point. The speakers crackled to life as a man in a blue tee-shirt with "WBAL" emblazoned on it tapped on a microphone. "Freedom City, welcome to the annual Labor Day Liberty Cookout!" He paused for cheers and applause from the audience. "This is our biggest year yet, and this year our panel of celebrity judges have fifteen different mouth-watering barbecue plates to sample and rate!"

Library Claremont Academy Freedom City United States of America What was this unfamiliar sensation? Oh. Yes. Regret. That was it. Jake lay across two chairs in a back corner of the academy library - a stick of black licorice sticking up out of his mouth like a flagpole; lightly shaking as it was chewed. He was dressed in his usual fashion - tooled leather boots, blue jeans, sleeveless shirt, wide-brimmed hat, metal limiter harness. Around him lay the detritus of study, more specifically, a ten-page essay on the significance of early adoption of capes in heroic fashion. Well, more like one page, at the moment. If you were being generous. And counted two words at the top as a 'page'. And counted your name as two words. The fact that it was due tomorrow, in turn, may have been contributing to the unfamiliar sensation. Jake chewed on the licorice (still tasted like drek, damnit), staring at the ceiling tiles.

Player's Name: Quinn Character's Name: Outlaw Power Level: 10 (150/153PP) Trade-Offs: -2 Attack / +2 Damage, -2 Defense / +2 Toughness Unspent PP: 3PP Description: Alternate Identities: Jacob Cross Identity: Public Birthplace: Hempstead, TX, USA. Occupation: Student Affiliations: Claremont Academy Family: James Cross (Father), Harriet Cross-nee-Prophet (mother). Age: 16 Gender: Male Ethnicity: Caucasian Height: 6’4” Weight: 164 lbs. Eyes: Red Hair: Auburn, occasionally on fire. Jake’s looks match the drek he’s had to deal with over the years – which is fairly sad, because if he managed to untwist his look from the near-permanent scowl on his face, he’d actually look pretty darned handsome. He’s tanned, well-muscled – plenty of work to be done around the farm, keep him from thinking too much. Clean-shaven, oddly, even with that strong chin; try as he might, he can’t seem to grow a beard. He dresses pretty plainly, for the most part – his day wear’s a pair of sneakers, blue jeans, and sleeveless shirts (since his fire spreads up from the hands when he’s really agitated, means he can usually catch it at the elbow before it lights his shirt on fire – more difficult with long-sleeves). On the job, he dresses in a costume made himself; a blue poncho with gold stylized flame embroidery, and Claremont Academy uniform pants and boots (also in blue and gold). A belt lined with energy drink cans and a brass plate vest with odd technological gewgaws lie below the poncho, as well (the closest metal he could get to the uniform color). A domino mask and bandanna (blue) hide his identity in turn, under a broad-brimmed leather hat. He’s taken to the school colors fairly well, actually. History: It’s hard to deny, and Jake really won’t even try, that the young hero’s upbringing was fairly cliché. The Cross family owned a plot of land a few miles outside of Hempstead, Texas; not very large, but good earth. A good retirement for a pair of broken-down old heroes; James Cross, alias The Silver Rider, and Harriet Cross-nee-Prophet, alias Ace High. They used to work the streets of Houston for decades, until the Terminus Invasion – as with many across America, they’d flooded with fist and courage into Freedom City, and watched the Centurion fall. In turn, they’d had their own spirits for the life of justice and freedom broken in turn; years of fighting having wore them down. They found themselves working together during the deconstruction, and eventually struck up an acquaintance – ultimately falling in love and choosing to retire together. They actually found it funny they’d never really fallen in together back home – maybe it was just the closeness of death that finally kickstarted it? Or maybe just good luck. Either way, they hung up the mask and cowl and settled down to a simpler life. For a while, at least. To a degree, they honestly didn’t expect the world would last as long as it did, after having seen what Entropy wrought. They even prepared a shelter for the inevitable next invasion…but it never came. It took almost five years for it to truly sink in to them that the world had been saved, in truth. Their neighbours picked up on the change overnight – James found in himself a new zest for improving their home, and began really turning that old house into something special; in turn, Harriet dove headfirst into the mechanics of the machines they used; using her old gadget know-how to turn their old tractor into a force to be reckoned with! The Fieldminator 7000! And, as in all things heroic, they began to notice each other more and more in…er…different ways; beyond the loving company they simply reveled in over the past five years. Took them another two before Jenny finally had a young boy – on March 16th, 2000, Jacob Cross hit the atmosphere. And on March 20th, 2000, lit it on fire. The genes were probably from Harriet’s side, they agreed. Her family had had a legacy of heroism stretching back to the founding of the ‘States, and while James had got his power from an incident with a radioactive horse, it wasn’t something likely to pass down in the family line. Still, he was their kid, even if he had a tendency to burp out a flame now and again. And hey, it meant he’d never want for protection when he grew up, right? In hindsight, the fact that the flames were black and red should have been an indication, but they were so happy with having a child to raise that they ignored it. They did ignore it, too – ignored it as he grew up a happy young boy who would run around chasing the chickens and spooking the horses, ignored it as he went to elementary school in a town a half-hour drive from the farm and showed off the fun smoke signals he could cough out after chugging down a can of Red Bull (and proceed to be hyper as heck the rest of the day), and ignored it right up until the year before he went to high school, and the wrong person heard about the color and shape of those flames. Honestly, it was nobody’s fault that it wasn’t caught sooner. They lived in a pretty rural area, and it wasn’t like the young man was going about burning down houses or causing mayhem. In fact, outside of some shows for his little friends now and again and the occasional declaration to his parents he’d grow up to be a Big Hero like them, or the famous Pale Ranger, or Adam Prophet (his mom raised him on bedtime stories about her great-great-great-great-great-etc. grandpappy), or Emily Swift (Harriet’s personal hero), or whoever had captured his young imagination at the time – he hadn’t really done much to draw big attention to himself. Which meant when a group of The Fellowship kicked in the door one August night, wanting to see if the kid was what they thought it was, it came as one hell of a nasty shock. It was an ugly fight. James and Harriet may have been retired, but they’d been prepared for a Second Terminus Invasion for years – even if they’d fallen off the wagon a few years back. They’d taught their son how to fight, too – how to throw a punch, and how to pack enough firepower into that punch to knock out a thug clean. In turn, this batch of Fellowship agents were damned determined, and they outnumbered the family five to one; sometimes T-babies didn’t want to come quietly, or accept the inevitability of their superiority over the common man. By the end of the mess, the farmhouse was in flames, both Crosses were laid out flat – thankfully alive – and Jake was thrown into the back of an old van, with a slightly singed wild-eyed zealot explaining how he was the new face of the world, how he was blessed by entropy. How they’d seen in that fight that he really was a Terminus-blessed demigod! Jake…didn’t take it well. In fact, he spat in the man’s face, swearing up and down it wasn’t true. Right up until the man lit up his eyes with the fires of Entropy, grinning. He really didn’t take that well. We’ll gloss over the finer details of the situation – the fleatrap motel they hunkered down in, the endless natter about how pleased their superior would be, how awesome it was to find a T-baby this potent, how those two idiots had looked when the door was kicked in; sure, they’d lost half their number to traps, tricks, and good one-two punches, but it was totally worth it. As soon as the teenage T-baby woke up from that catatonic trance, he’d thank them! See, Jake had also grown up knowing what made his parents quit. He knew full well what Omega was, and what he’d done to the hero of heroes. And that thought just kept going through his head, over and over – that what powered him up, that fun little flame, that he’d played with his friends with, that he’d said he was going to be a hero with, had broke his parents and killed so many people and it was in him it was in him it was in him he couldn’t control that he couldn’t use that to help people it had killed people he would kill people he was a monster. He didn’t roast them alive when he woke up, but it was a near thing. Something in him cracked when he finally came to that conclusion. His whole self, restraints and all, lit up in a pyroclasm that set the whole motel ablaze with black fire. He managed to seize some control when he heard the screaming, saw the fleeing figures, and tore the fire back into himself – but the damage was done. And when the firefighters arrived and saw him, and the cops arrived and saw him, and the press arrived and saw him, it was all over but the crying. They returned him home, eventually. After about a day of questioning, suspicion, threats, even a government agent who narrowly ended up having him assigned to some kind of project and a whole lot of supervision – but when his mom came in and hugged him and told him everything was going to be alright, and his dad nearly threw that suited clown out, well…he didn’t quite push them away, but he mutely went with them. Even started to think it wasn’t all bad. First year high school was all that bad – started to feel like he was on a roller coaster, actually. Huge up, then the plummet, and man did it go downhill fast. The press had had a field day with the ‘Dangerous Terminus Child’ living on the ‘Death Ranch’, how he’d only narrowly escaped arrest and censure because of his ‘age’ and how his parents had ‘refused comment’ on how he was going to be kept safe and away from ‘normal’ people. He didn’t get pushed around, mind – when you have to wear a limiter vest (supplied by his mother, who still had the gift), and can still light things on fire with your mind, that’s something nobody’s likely willing to risk – but a guy can feel pretty lonely when nobody’s wanting to even say word one to you. And teachers, well, they have to help you – that’s in their job description – but them throwing shifty eyes to any doorway or window when you start to back-talk and shuffling sideways like they’re about to run; that can wear a teen down pretty fast too. Ultimately? He started skipping more often than going. Then he started running with a rougher crowd that liked what he could do. Laughed when he breathed some sparks, or blew smoke outta his nose, making people jump or run. Didn’t last long, though, when they started to flinch when his temper got up and his arms started to light up. And he wasn’t bad enough to go looking for a gang – even with all that’d happened, his parents still raised him right, damnit. He just finally sort of gave up the whole idea of being anything more than a delinquent. Not quite a bad guy, he couldn’t make that leap; but smoking behind the school, sneering when people flinched, slouching in the back of the classroom – he just gave them what he expected to see. Broke his parents’ hearts to see it, though – least until they got a call from a very concerned citizen in a city they’d been to once or twice… They packed him up with a costume, a letter, a corned beef sandwich for the trip, and a long explanation – one he didn’t quite buy. A new school. Several states away. They weren’t getting rid of him, but he couldn’t learn and grow here, not as things were. There – things would be better. He could be his own person, instead of what they saw or thought. He had family there, old family, who would help him out – the Prophets still had relatives there who knew and loved him, even without meeting him. He could still be a hero, if he tried. It scared them, more than anything else, what might happen to him; but they knew he needed it. Even if he didn’t think he did. So Jake, sixteen, gruff, surly, fearful of himself, and entirely too stuffed to the gills with teenage angst, was sent off to Claremont Academy, Freedom City. He kept the costume – even if he chucked the sandwich halfway through the bus trip and bought a burger instead. Didn’t quite take the original name he’d planned for himself, though. If Claremont wanted him to try to be a hero; and he was still hesitant, a T-baby would never make a good Marshal. But an Outlaw… Personality & Motivation: Outlaw/Jake’s a teenager at odds with himself. Granted, that’s not exactly news to any high school guidance counselor or psychologist, but in his case it’s a bit more literal. Moreso if there are any flammable objects around. To the average eye, he’s a surly teenager. He talks back, he slouches, he acts grumpy, and his whole demeanor screams “I am a porcupine. Come close and I will poke you.” He acts this way. If you managed to crack his shell, though, you’d find Jake to be a passionate, even hot-tempered young man. He wants to do, to be, to act – very much like the fire in his belly. He doesn’t want to sit back there and growl at people – he wants to be the life of the party, to pull off little party tricks and make people laugh, to see someone smile at him, and be able to smile back. Make people happy, more than happy. He grew up with parents and stories of men and women who made the world a better place, and he wants to live up to that, more than anything. He is this way. Power Descriptions: Jake’s not a subtle teen when it comes to slinging his power. When he lets rip, it’s with gouts and jets of black and red entropic fire – used to be he thought that was special and fancy, now he almost hates to see it. Came to terms with that, at least, a while ago. Still, there can be some variation in it – for his basic blasts he generally indulges in the old Western standby of a finger gun from the hip (he takes what fun he can get) – those blasts being thin and precise, along with fast and rapid-fire. In close-range, not near as elegant, just an open palm, fist, or foot covered in fire to the tender bits; his mom taught him how to fight close-up. For the bigger blasts, his gestures get larger and more elaborate; hence the poncho (he needs the arm room) – his biggest being just one great big fireball hucked with both hands. He vastly prefers to avoid doing that, though. In a pinch he can light his whole self up – but he didn’t make a habit of that until he got the morphic molecule costume. As it stands, he’s managed to develop a defensive blaze that intercepts shots or simply discourages them through heat. Same color, but in twisting loops around him. Even worked out a neat trick of using fire blasts through the feet to fly. He actually cracked a smile when he learned how to do that. Powers And Tactics: If it’s one thing Outlaw’s tactical doctrine espouses – it’s caution. Which comes as a fairly difficult thing when the angrier you get, the more likely you are to burst into flame. In truth, if he had his druthers, he’d only ever fight close-in with bare-knuckles, and save the fire for non-living targets. He generally opens with that, in turn; punching with point-blank low-power blasts in each fist. Escalation of force is a principle he’s drilled into himself over and over again since he was told he could learn to be a hero at Claremont, and he’s one he’s determined to stick to – possibly to an unsafe degree. Still, he’s not a complete pacifist. If the enemy isn’t going to go down with a few punches, and he knows he’ll get turned upside-down getting in close, he’s got no problems with taking to the air and letting rip with precision long-range shots. Even then, though, he’s sometimes a bit too careful about lining up that shot to make sure it won’t really hurt… Complications: Burn It To The Ground: Problem with being a fire controller with control issues is it’s real easy to accidentally spook and/or cook your neighbours if you aren’t careful – that’s why he wears the vest. It’s like a big warm heavy metal snuggie that protects him and everyone around him, except when it doesn’t. A GM may offer a Hero Point when the actual nullifier effect of the vest is damaged – under those circumstances, all of Outlaw’s powers immediately gain the Uncontrollable Flaw, and may backlash on him (Immunity does NOT apply in this situation). Figured You Out: Let’s face it. T-Babies do not have the best press in the world – and when your reveal as a T-baby was in a paroxym of terror and self-hatred that nearly burned down a motel (no fatalities, thank God) and throwing around one of man’s most primal fears (FIRE BAD), that doesn’t do wonders for your image when the newshounds start working you over. GMs may offer a Hero Point when the bad press from Outlaw’s kidnapping influences someone’s actions or decisions toward him. Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting: Which leads to the third part of Outlaw’s problems. He’s got…temper issues, sometimes. He’s handling it, at least, and it helps that he knows the consequences of letting off the leash – but sometimes if he gets real mad, it’s hard to think straight; and then the fire starts creeping up his arms before he knows what’s going on. Even the Nullifier Vest can’t keep it down when he’s that hot under the collar. A GM can offer a Hero Point when Outlaw’s anger issues cause him to do something that makes the situation worse – or force him to try and cool himself off when he really should be getting angrier. Rockstar: Besides being a bit of a caffeine addict, there is a reason Jake keeps multiple cans of sports and energy drink close to hand. See, the trouble with slinging a lot of power is you can get exhausted quickly - and when your power is fire and heat, sometimes you need to refuel. He's found different substances help, energy drinks to provide a jolt and a bit of extra flame when he's feeling low, and sports drink when the sheer heat began to dehydrate him. A GM may offer a Hero Point to force him to take a turn refueling or rest up - or even stop one of his powers cold - or have him actually run out/forgot his supplies. Gotta Be Somebody: And then there's the unfamiliarity problem - let's face it, despite his gruffness and attempts at worldliness, Jake's not exactly a big city kid. He grew up surrounded by cornfields, barnyard animals, and assorted back roads - not the gleaming silver spires that make Freedom City the city of the future! More often than not it's easy for him to get surprised or even overwhelmed by the sheer scope and mass of daily life in Freedom City; thank heaven Claremont's campus is, for the most part, fairly sedate and quiet. Right? A GM may offer a Hero Point when his unfamiliarity with the big city can cause trouble - whether not knowing roads or directions, or being distracted at an inopportune moment by something completely out of his experience. Edge Of A Revolution: Jake once saw a play in-city, and a line from it’s stuck with him for years since. “And therefore, since I cannot prove the lover / to entertain these fair well-spoken days / I am determined to prove a villain / and hate the idle pleasures of these days.” If the world thinks he’s a loose cannon waiting to go off? A delinquent and thug? A nascent monster who can’t be trusted? Well, he’s tried long enough to change minds, and got sand kicked in his face for it. A GM can offer a Hero Point when Outlaw’s bitterness causes him to act gruff and mean instead of trying to reach out. Abilities: 0 + 0 + 4 + 0 + 0 + 6 = 10PP Strength 10 (+0) Dexterity 10 (+0) Constitution 14 (+2) Intelligence 10 (+0) Wisdom 10 (+0) Charisma 16 (+3) Combat: 8 + 8 = 16PP Initiative: +4 Attack: +4, +8 energy attacks Grapple: +4 Defense: +8 (+4 Base, +4 Dodge Focus), +2 Flat-Footed Knockback: -1, -6 w/ Force Field Saving Throws: 6 + 8 + 7 = 21PP Toughness: +2/+12 (+2 Con, +5 Force Field [Impervious 5], +5 Protection [Impervious 5]) Fortitude: +8 (+2 Con, +6) Reflex: +8 (+0 Dex, +8) Will: +7 (+0 Wis, +7) Skills: 40R = 10PP Concentration 10 (+10) Handle Animal 3 (+6) Intimidate 12 (+15) Notice 10 (+10) Sense Motive 5 (+5) Feats: 11PP Accurate Attack Dodge Focus 4 Fast Task (Startle) Improved Initiative Precise Shot Luck 2 Startle Powers: 42 + 12 + 8 + 10 + 10 = 82PP Heartburn Array 18.5 (37pp array; Power Feats: 3 Alternate Powers, Accurate 2) [42PP] Base Power: Blast 12 (Feats: Variable Descriptor, Extras: Autofire) [37PP] (Fire/Entropy) (Fire Bolts/Punches) Alternate Power: Blast 10 (Feats: Variable Descriptor, Penetrating 3, Knockback 3, Extras: Area - Burst) [37PP] (Fire/Entropy) (Fireball) Alternate Power: Fatigue 12 (Feats: Variable Descriptor, Extras: Ranged) [37PP] (Heat/Entropy) (Heat Blast) Alternate Power: Strike 9 (Feats: Variable Descriptor, Extras: Aura, Duration 2 - Sustained) [37PP] (Fire/Entropy) (Fire Aura) Flight 6 (500 MPH) [12PP] (Foot Jets!) Armored Nullifier Vest (10 pp Container; Flaws: Hard-To-Lose) [8 pp] Protection 5 (Extras: Impervious) [10 PP] Force Field 5 (Extras: Impervious) [10PP] (Entropic Aura) Immunity 10 (all fire effects) [10PP] DC Block: ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed Touch DC 15 Toughness (Staged) Damage Aura Touch DC 24 Toughness (Staged) Damage Blast [Autofire] Ranged DC 27 Toughness (Autofire, Staged) Damage Blast [Burst] Ranged DC 22/27 Reflex (Area)/Toughness (Staged) Damage Fatigue Ranged DC 22 Fort (staged) Fatigued/Exhausted/Unconscious Abilities (10) + Combat (16) + Saving Throws (21) + Skills (10) + Feats (11) + Powers (82) - Drawbacks (00) = 150/153 Power Points