E.L.F, Extraterrestrial Lifeform

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Aww yeah, fun times to start. I really hope they aren't going to be idiots about it all. Hoping she uses her Seer abilities to navigate the conversation. Also, 5 days, I guess that means all the students know something happened then when her locker turned into Wraithbone. So she doesn't really have a secret identity here?
 
shinkicker444 said:
Aww yeah, fun times to start. I really hope they aren't going to be idiots about it all. Hoping she uses her Seer abilities to navigate the conversation. Also, 5 days, I guess that means all the students know something happened then when her locker turned into Wraithbone. So she doesn't really have a secret identity here?
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also means that Piggot knows about Sophia's actions and is in damage control mode.
 
Silversun17 said:
also means that Piggot knows about Sophia's actions and is in damage control mode.
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True, hopefully she is actually punished. Hopefully they won't just try and strong arm her in. One Farseer is so damn useful, the crazy level of precog (and postcog) they have in addition to all the other psychic abilities would have her trump most (directly or indirectly), she wouldn't be Eldreds level of 10,000 year plan, but still pretty potent. Wonder if she can make more Wraithbone, for armour and weapons.
 
Silversun17 said:
also means that Piggot knows about Sophia's actions and is in damage control mode.
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Define damage control. Piggot's 24/7 PR obsession is entirely fanon. It took a literal international, interdimensional, extraterrestrial, human experimenting, secret agent, shadow government, doomsday conspiracy to shake the confidence of the general public, and even then it continued going strong right up until Scion obliterated the general public.

Piggot does not need to throw Sophia under the buss, Hess will be dealt with as a matter of course. Taylor does not need to be corralled into supporting the Protectorate, she will be more than happy to work with the Protectorate because real heroes will be willing to work with her. One crummy afternoon dealing with a grumpy administrator does not hold a candle a fulfilling a childhood fantasy. The only conflict in the beginning of Worm is between Taylor and her self-esteem. If you take the choice away from Taylor, take her ego out of the equation, her life can only improve.
 
que director piggot some how fucking things up or coil trying to do so......

initiate the doom shelters they'll need em If a farseer ever goes off the reservation.
 
Interregnum said:
Define damage control. Piggot's 24/7 PR obsession is entirely fanon. It took a literal international, interdimensional, extraterrestrial, human experimenting, secret agent, shadow government, doomsday conspiracy to shake the confidence of the general public, and even then it continued going strong right up until Scion obliterated the general public.

Piggot does not need to throw Sophia under the buss, Hess will be dealt with as a matter of course. Taylor does not need to be corralled into supporting the Protectorate, she will be more than happy to work with the Protectorate because real heroes will be willing to work with her. One crummy afternoon dealing with a grumpy administrator does not hold a candle a fulfilling a childhood fantasy. The only conflict in the beginning of Worm is between Taylor and her self-esteem. If you take the choice away from Taylor, take her ego out of the equation, her life can only improve.
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I wasn't talking about just sophia, if anything that's the easiest part of the situation. a parahuman triggered in the middle of the school and some dumbass kid is going to blab about taylor and what happened which is going to draw the attention of every one with an agenda in the city along with E88 sniffing around for a new cape. combine that with Wriathbone's special brand of bullshitery and this is one unholy mess.

Sophia's only real involvment is that she caused the trigger event which could very well cause issues with the newly triggered girl who is still reeling form said trigger event if it comes out in the wrong manner.
 
Poor Taylor just had flashbacks to space marines didn't she? And damn, I hope they start noticing that she feels things strongly or they may end up pushing her too far until she snaps from paranoia, anger, and sadness. Gallant probably could tell, but the wards are likely not going to be around her on account of her influencing a few PRT troops.
 
Aethelius said:
que director piggot some how fucking things up or coil trying to do so......
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It's a sad state of affairs that so many people hand the same character the idiot ball so very often. Largely, I think, because she's convenient. Most writers don't want Taylor to join the wards because it limits what types of stories they can tell, and then there's Piggot. A big shining beacon of semi-justifiable incompetence in just the right place to torpedo every passing boat.
 
Interregnum said:
[optimism]
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But where is the fun in that?

Although, i agree, in a setting with lots of bullshit master and precog powers, a overbearing naive father and murderous villains everywhere it doesn't have to be Piggot holding the idiot ball all the time.

Plenty of other reasons to dump the wards and protectorate.
 
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ELF.2
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    • E.L.F​

    I could hear footsteps approaching my room. Whoever it was broke off from a group of three, slightly off balance…forwards? Carrying something? Irregular steps, like a slight limp, their right foot came down harder than their left but still light, smaller person. Female? Jingling, loud so it wasn't in their pocket and the telltale scrape of metal against metal. Carabiner holding keys? I knew by now what the PRT armor sounded like and it was missing, plain clothes officer. My ears didn't twitch like a dog's while doing this, thank god for small mercies. That would have been one indignity too far.

    They stopped walking and a few seconds later, I heard three quiet, but firm knocks on the door. "Taylor?"

    Woman, same one from before but she took off her body armor. I felt the pleased smile on my face as I opened my eyes. The room was upside down. No muscle fatigue yet or blood rushing to my head.

    "Yup!" I called back as I scissored my legs back together. A few breaths to control my giddiness before it got away from me, then I stood up. What girl doesn't wish she could do splits at some point in their lives? Just to test myself as I couldn't in the van, I did a standing split against the wall and then bent backwards until I could lay my palms against the floor. Too easy. I went through all the gymnastic poses I could think of. My balance was great, and well, I know double jointed is a thing. Is triple jointed a thing? It was now.

    There was just something great about doing things you know should have you screaming in agony.

    "We thought you'd be a bit hungry." There was a buzz and the metal shutters over the small window on the door pulled back. A lunch tray was slid through the gap onto the metal slab that was bolted to the inside.

    Thinking about it, I was a bit hungry like I could nibble on something. Considering I haven't eaten in five days, that was a bit weird. I grabbed the tray. It was Taco Tuesday with a kind of siesta salad, sliced orange and a lemonade Capri Sun. Normal stuff, so what was I smelling? I sniffed a few times. Something…artificial. The meat?

    I swallowed, and decided to give the PRT cooks the benefit of a doubt. "Thanks."

    After I moved the tray, the officer slipped what looked a lot like a laptop through. I put dinner on the desk and grabbed the computer. "It's just a few basic questions. Name, birthdate, next of kin, last thing you remember before the incident," she said in a hopeful, upbeat tone. "What you've noticed about yourself, things like that."

    "I can do that." I hope they weren't expecting clear answers about the mind screw thing. 'Avoid thinking hard at people' was about all I had.

    "Your father's here." My heart jumped into my throat. "He's talking with the Deputy Director right now but you should be able to speak with him soon. The laptop has WIFI while you wait. Sound good?"

    "Yes, thank you."

    "Hang in there a little longer, sweetheart."

    I sat down cross-legged on the bed with the laptop. Flipping it open, I was greeted with a spinning blue and silver PRT logo. A grey progress bar filled up and the form the officer talked about showed up on the screen. I filled out my name, gender, DOB and essentials as I munched on black beans and corn from the salad before my curiosity got the better of me. I opened the browser and typed 'Winslow High' in the search bar. The first page instantly flooded with links to news articles dating 5 days ago to yesterday.

    "Crap." I knew it. I knew I knew it. Seeing it confirmed just made me feel exhausted. I clicked on the video link of a male reporter in front of the school thumbnail.

    The first thing I heard was the granulated sound of high wind from the small speakers. A newspaper whipped across the sidewalk. "This is Ryan Shannegh of Daily News out here in the eye of the storm at Winslow High School in Brockton Bay!" I raised an eyebrow. That didn't sound good. "I know all of you can see it, but just – just look at this, Maron!"

    The camera man swung the camera up.

    There was a hurricane above my school. Dark purple storm clouds as far as the camera could see swirled above the city. The video panned back and forth a few times as the reporter chattered in the background. Instead of creating a vortex like a tornado, the clouds just didn't go any further. They curved up instead creating a tunnel as the eye of the storm. The eye must have been a few blocks across but if anyone was curious about where the exact center was, pale rippling energy like lightning arced down above the school. Looking at it sent a small shiver down my spine. Not out of fear, but it was like I just had a déjà vu without knowing what about. I guess this explained why everyone was so cautious.

    And then I come out of the locker and control people. They must have been terrified I was going to go Carrie on everyone. I skipped ahead in the video.

    A second after it started playing again, my yearbook picture was on the screen. "Preliminary reports suggest that this phenomenon is actually centered around the locker of Taylor Hebert, fifteen-year-old girl who was missing from afternoon classes and discovered to have actually been locked in her locker by unknown individuals."

    Unknown!? The sheer rage I felt swept over me like a wave, drowning me. I couldn't move. I couldn't think. I could barely breathe. I almost blacked out.

    There was a crunch and a louder pop.

    I reflexively pried my fingers apart but there was nothing in my hands. I looked down in my lap and found the laptop crushed into a sparking ball of melted plastic and metal. "Wha – " Something in the computer chose that moment to burst into flame. "Shit!"

    Some vague idea about getting battery acid on my pants had me jumping to my feet. Which was stupid, because it was on fire. The laptop ball tumbled out of my lap and with a burst of anxiety, I caught it with my knee. I don't even know why I bothered. It was already broken. I stood there on one leg, balancing the laptop on the other as the fire died down and just tried to breathe. The flip from outrage to shock left me feeling lightheaded. Or maybe it was the fact that I had apparently turned into an elf ninja on top of everfuckingthing else that did that.

    Inhale. Exhale. I had started crying again, for the second time in a half an hour. I'd always wanted powers. Ever since I was little tying towels around my neck and pretending I was Alexandria. Now that I had them, I was wishing I could throw them away.

    I needed to think about something.

    I wiped away my tears and gingerly plucked the laptop ball from my knee. It wasn't even warm to the touch so I deposited it on the desk. It was metal with varnished wood pulp designed to look like planks on top. If I was just resistant to higher temperatures like I was to cold, at least it wouldn't destroy much there. From what I could see it was crushed evenly, which was a bit strange in and of itself. Thicker sections like the keyboard would need more force to crush in compared to the screen but the sphere was just about perfect. The plastic had melted evenly too. Either the heat source was also evenly distributed, or it hadn't been heat.

    I sighed. Get scared, mind fuck people. Get angry, break shit. I had a very promising career as a hero in front of me.

    I went over to the door and hit the button. The intercom cracked.

    "Taylor Hebert." A man said in clipped, brusque tones. "I see you require another laptop."

    That would be one way to put it. So, camera. I hoped there wasn't one in the bathroom. I bit my lip. "Yes, sorry."

    "I will requisition another one for you." I faintly heard the sound of typing. "Can you tell me what happened? You are not in trouble," he said quickly. "I am simply curious."

    You and me both, buddy. "I got angry. I'm not sure what happened." I looked back at the ball of plastic. "But it wasn't super strength."

    "I see. What had angered you?"

    My forehead hit the wall above the speaker. Breathe. "No one came forward about who shoved me in that locker."

    "Untrue." My eyebrows raised against the metal. "It took longer than was ideal, but are the names Emma Barnes, Madison Clements and Sophia Hess accurate?"

    "Yes." My voice had a slight echo.

    "I cannot share details about ongoing investigations, but what happened to you was no less than assault." Hearing someone else say that, someone else acknowledge that made me smile. "We are pushing for the harshest punishments feasible."

    "Probably helps that it was very public," I muttered. I really had no illusions about how much it fucking took for anyone…to see me.

    "Yes, it did."

    I snorted. That's the way the shit cookie crumbles. "Did I hurt anyone?"

    "Master Stranger protocols have a standard seventy-two-hour length – "

    "No," I cut him off. And there was the guilt for that again. Thank you very much, officer. "I mean, the storm."

    He paused. More typing. "The storm covered the entirety of the city limits up to roughly twenty thousand feet. Planes grounded, air traffic was circumvented to Portsmouth International. One plane crash, forty six casualties. Another plane has been reported missing along with its passengers."

    I leaned against the wall and just listened. He had a nice voice, strong and nonjudgmental.

    "I-95 was congested for several hours of public panic, minor incidents. The PRT and Protectorate handled cases of civil unrest in various populated areas."

    "Okay."

    The intercom crackled with the clothy rumble of an adjusting microphone, as if he was leaning in. "None of this is on you. This was done to you. You had no choice or control in the matter and as much a victim as those in the hospital, understand?"

    He wanted me to believe him. I could feel that. "Thank you."

    "You're welcome." I could hear the slight smile in his voice. "In approximately ten minutes, there will be an escort to take you to your father. Director Piggot is now on site and wishes to speak to you both."

    Ten minutes to figure out exactly how I wanted this all the end. "Understood."

    "Armsmaster, out."

    Oh.

    That was Armsmaster?
     
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    • There are times when the direct approach of Armsmaster works. He didn't lie, he didn't try to 'soften' the blow. Just facts, including the very important one that Taylor is not the guilty party, just one more victim. Perfect to calm her while not setting a lie to anger her in the future.
     
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