In Service: A Science Fantasy Quest

Hello and welcome to In Service, a quest where you play as a special agent in the Service of Supernatural Solutions. This quest exists because I apparently have too much time on my hands.

However, before we begin you must be given some background context on certain things that characters will mention, things that your character would know already, just from living in this world.

Grades and Circles
Grades are a 0-10 system designed for agents on the field to quickly determine the traits of something. Having Grade 1 in something, let's say Super Strength, will give you +5 to rolls involving it. For Super Strength that would be things like lifting something heavy, opening a jar of pickles, or knocking someone out with a punch. They also give you options you wouldn't have otherwise, like if you had Pyrokinesis you could start a fire if you were stuck in the middle of the arctic or if you had a high enough Grade of Hammerspace you could steal all the candy bars from a vending machine.

Circles are a similar system to Grades except they dictate what levels of magic somebody is capable of. A First Circle Sorcerer would totally be capable of starting fires with a wave of their hand, but would be unable to create a roaring fire tornado while a Third Circle could.

Sorcery vs Wizardry vs Witchery vs Channelry
Sorcery is non-permanent but doesn't require ingredients for it to work. Instead, it runs off the internal power of the caster.

Wizardry can be permanent but that's up to the caster. All Wizardry spells require ingredients to work.

Witchery is similar to Wizardry in that it requires ingredients, however unlike Wizardry and Sorcery it is capable of working beyond line of sight. It is also solely permanent.

Channelry is not like any of the previous, which utilize the inner power or the power of ingredients to cast. Channelry uses the power of stronger beings to cast spells. The specific parameters of this type of magic is up to the source of the power.

In the early, early hours of the morning, in a small, secluded farming town in western Kansas, an old man in a plaid shirt sits on his porch, smoking his pipe. He rocks back and forth in his rocking chair, which he had carved about 20 years back as he watches the stars twinkling away in the night sky in defiance of the occasional street light. As he rocks back and forth, again and again, he watches as, across the street from him, a man is thrown through a glass window from the second story floor of the town motel.

The man, wearing a tattered suit and a heavy black greatcoat in slightly better condition, slams backfirst on his car's roof, denting it inward with a crunching noise. The car starts making a great racket, blaring its alarm as the man groans in pain and annoyance. He starts rolling over, propping himself up when a pair of squealing, green-skinned and pig-like Orcs round the corner of the building, waving nail bats over their heads as they charge.

The old man shakes his head, rocking back and forth in his chair; he'd known that those Orcs were bad business when they moved in a few weeks back.

The man leans on his arm as he extends his right hand, holding a hefty-looking pistol, and fires a pair of meaty-sounding rounds. The first flies past both of the screaming Orcs' shoulders, but the second hits the leading Orc in the eye, blowing off the side of his head and splattering the ground with his internal giblets.

He drops, face planting on the ground in a slide as his fellow, further enraged by his brother's death, leaps atop the car. The Orc swings down with a thunderous strike meant to cave in the man's chest. But it wasn't to be as the man pushed from the car roof, tackling the Orc and throwing them both off the car. They land on the asphalt with a sickening crack, the man on top of the Orc.

The man raises his left hand, holding a thick, shiny knife in a reverse grip, and plunges it into the Orc's neck with a snarl. He yanks it from the Orc with a violent twist, slicing open the Orc's neck in a spray of blood that coats the side of the man's greatcoat.

The old man grimaces in sympathy, puffing away at his pipe; he's heard that Orc blood is a real sticky thing, hard to clean out from clothing.

The man rises from the dead Orc with a huff and begins limping towards his car. He looks angry, no, angry doesn't cover it, it's not nearly a strong enough word. This is the look of a man who's just lost something important to him, someone he holds dear to his heart. This is the look of a man who's feeling vindictive, who's quickly losing all rational thought. This man looks absolutely homicidal.

As he limps, right leg dead in the water, a meaty smack hits the ground behind him. Freezing in his tracks, he slowly turns on the spot, looking back to see a body with a shock of fiery red hair, matted thick with her blood, her body twisted at unnatural angles. She's dressed in clothing similar to the man, though hers is of a smaller size, fitting her smaller frame.

The woman, his partner, stares at him with empty, glassy eyes. The man's breath catches in his throat, tears threaten to spill from the corners of his eyes. In the woman's left hand, is a dull blue sword, a glint of light reflecting in its blade from the streetlights.

The man turns his head towards the broken window, where his dead partner was tossed at him from. There, leering at him from the remains of the window, is a half-Demon half-Orc face. The Half-Orc laughs at him as it plants its monstrous hands on each side of the hole, muscles bulging in its tree trunk thick arms as, with a yell of exertion, the Half-Orc breaks a hole big enough for it to fit through.

It lands on the already dented roof of the car, which was modeled after the Chevrolet '57, finally putting an end to its racket as it's crushed under the considerable mass of the Half-Orc. In its right hand it holds an absolutely massive hatchet, the head of the axe as big as the hood of the car it stands on.

The man, filled with rage, leans down and whispers something that the old man can't make out to the dead woman. He uncurls the woman's fingers from the hilt of the sword, pausing as he feels the coldness of her palm. Tears splash down on either side of her hand as he grips the sword.

Blue lightning coats his body as his face morphs from wrath to extreme pain, but, with his teeth gritted, he rises to his feet. Lifting the sword is a monumental task, but it's one he accomplishes as he points the sword at the Half-Orc in an wordless challenge.

The Half-Orc accepts, warm air mists from its nostrils. It raises its axe and the man lowers the sword, settling into a crouch.

It leaps, swinging the axe down as the man swings the sword up. This is a contest of speed, he who strikes the other first will win. But the contest will have no clear winner as they break each other's flesh at the same time.

The man cuts the Half-Orc in half, right hip to left shoulder, splitting open the green thing's fat belly and exposing noxious fumes to the air.

The Half-Orc cleaves deep into the man's left shoulder, cutting deep into the man's torso and nicking the man's heart.

The sword falls to the ground with a clatter as the man falls to his knees, his arm still held up towards the sky. The Half-Orc is dead, its body quickly dissipating into grey flakes, which floats off into the sky.

The man smiles as his right hand starts to flake, the price he paid for using a weapon that hadn't chosen him for its wielder. He slumps over, using the remnants of his left arm to reach out and grasp the woman's hand. He says something, as the grey tide overtakes his body, something that the old man doesn't need to hear to know what was said.

He said, "I'll be with you soon."

Soon, all that's left is a pile of bloody clothing, one arm of the greatcoat stretched towards the dead woman.

~~~~~~~

You rise from your seat in the movie theater, stained with a sticky soda from a previous movie-goer, as the credits roll and the closing theme plays. You're not sure how to feel about the movie you just watched, having decided to see it on a whim and not expecting it to end in that way.

Though, you can't help but applaud the movie for accuracy in portraying its source material. The life of a special agent in the S3 is not a very long-lived one and they very rarely have happy endings.

But… somebody's gotta do it.

~~~~~~~

There are times in everyone's life where he or she must make a rather important decision. A decision that can have both fortuitous and disastrous knock-on effects.

And today, you made that decision. You decided that you were going to do your part by joining the Service of Supernatural Solutions. You were going to make a difference or die trying. More likely than not, it would end with you dying, but you already knew that.

So, there you are, fresh from college, or whatever you had been doing before settling on this course of action.

You're standing in front of the imposing structure that S3 Chicago calls HQ. It's a large building, built in the shape of a brick. Gun turrets sit in balconies, heavily armed agents in faceless armor patrol or stand guard, a pair of helicopters perch on the roof. It's painted a dull grey color, with the occasional bullet hole pockmarking the walls.

Taking a deep breath, you ascend the concrete stairs, towards the pair of guards standing beside the heavyset doors. You can feel them watching you as you walk past, the doors opening on their own. You square your shoulders, holding your head high and walking with confidence, trying to project an air of competency you don't feel.

Stepping into the lobby, the first thing that draws your eye is the large, concrete pillbox sitting at the end of the lobby. Inside the grey box, you can see a mounted gun of some kind, pointing towards the doors you'd just stepped through. On each side of the fortification are metal doors, thick and heavy looking. Above the doors, hanging from the ceiling, are a pair of automated turrets, tracking your every movement.

In front of the pillbox sits a desk behind which a receptionist sits. The desk looks like it was built to be easily replaceable should it be destroyed.

Chairs, cheap ones, line the walls. One of them, the one immediately to your right, contains a suited woman, a half-elf by the looks of her ears. She's filling out a form, perhaps she's applying too?

You approach the desk, where the receptionist, a battle-scarred human, who looked up at you, a cigarette hanging from his bottom lip. His name tag reads "Leroy". You can see a beefy-looking shotgun resting against his chair, it looks to be loaded. He waits for you to say something.

"I'm here to sign up?" You tell him, hating how uncertain you sound. S3 has accrued something of a… reputation about themselves, one for high levels of competency and a no-nonsense demeanor. Of shady dealings and assassination attempts. Of antagonizing beings that shouldn't be antagonized. And of horrific acts in the name of protecting humanity. But, for all their faults, they're the most effective defense Earth has against the things that go bump in the night.

Leroy wordlessly hands you a pen, a clipboard, and a selection of documents from a drawer in his desk. He flicks his eyes to the woman in the corner before indicating her with his head. You take this as directions and take a seat next to the woman, who barely blinks at your presence. The guns on the ceiling haven't moved away from you, one on you and the other on her.

Clicking the pen, you begin filling out the form.

Character Creation (Some choices have been spoiler'd to save space)
Name:
-[ ] Max Flingur
-[ ] Write in
Gender:
-[ ] Male
-[ ] Female
Age:
23 years old
Race:
Human (Sure, you're nothing special when it comes down to it, but you've got the potential to become great. Gain Human Determination: In the grand scheme of things, you're nothing, but that doesn't mean you can't still try. +30 to Resolve rolls and roll twice on training rolls.)
Family:
-[ ] Average Joes (Your family doesn't really understand why you want to join the SSS, but they're supportive nonetheless. You start with an education and gain Familial Support Structure: Through thick and thin, your family will always be there for you. No number bonuses, but gain a well developed support structure for all your emotional needs)
-[ ] Hedge Wizards (Your family is a bit… unusual. You start with a selection of spells, 25 Energy, and gain Over the Hedge: You spent your youth dodging magical mishaps and corralling escaped experiments. +15 to Knowledge (General Wizardry) and Knowledge (Household Sorcery) rolls and gain First Circle Wizardry and First Circle Sorcery)
-[ ] Heroic Descendents (Through your family's veins flows the blood of a hero. You start with a heroic bloodline and gain Hero in Training: You travelled all over the world with your family, slaying monsters, doing good deeds, and righting wrongs. +15 to Combat (Melee) and Combat (Ranged) rolls, +10 to Knowledge (Combat) and gain Grade 2 Super Strength, Super Endurance, and Super Durability)
-[ ] Scientific Adventurers (Your family adventured around the world, investigating things of unusual and interesting nature. Start with a couple creations, a minion, and gain Junior Scientist: You've dabbled in all sorts of super science experiments in your youth. +15 to Knowledge (Super Science) and Craft (Super Science) rolls and +10 to Repair (Super Science) and Dismantle (Super Science) rolls.)

~~~~~~~

GM's Note: And here we go. Voting will be called in three days, on Wednesday, December 22nd, at 4 PM CST

And some Thematic Music to get you into the mood.

Itzabella Williams (You)
Physical Health: 18/18
Mental Health: 30/30
Spiritual Health: 15/15
Physical Description: A pale, tall, and slender woman with long straight black hair and glasses. She has determination written into her eyes, determination to distance herself from her parents, to make a name for herself, and to do the very best she can.
Bonuses:
Craft (Super Science): 15
Contacts (Underworld): 10
Combat (Daggers): 10
Combat (Handguns): 10
Combat (Wrestling): 15
Combat (Unarmed): 10
Dismantle (Super Science): 10
Dodge: 10
Initiative: 20
Intuition: 10
Intimidation: 15
Investigation: 10
Knowledge (Aliens): 5
Knowledge (Cursery): 10
Knowledge (Fey): 10
Knowledge (Lower Realm): 15
Knowledge (S3): 10
Knowledge (Super Science): 15
Knowledge (Upper Realm): 5
Learning: 10
Perception: 10
Performance (Singing): 10
Persuasion: 5 (For 1 case/2-3 assignments)
Repair (Super Science): 10
Resist (Mental): 5 (1/3 to next level)
Resist (Physical): 5
Resolve: 30 (50 when in danger)
Traits:
-Human Determination: In the grand scheme of things, you're nothing, but that doesn't mean you can't still try. +30 to Resolve rolls and roll twice on training rolls.
-Junior Scientist: You've dabbled in all sorts of super science experiments in your youth. +15 to Knowledge (Super Science) and Craft (Super Science) rolls and +10 to Repair (Super Science) and Dismantle (Super Science) rolls.
-Passion for Chemistry and Sensory: You developed a bit of a passion towards Chemistry and Sensory super science in your youth. +10 to all Super Science Rolls involving Chemistry and/or Sensory.
-Expert CQC and Handgun Qualifications: You qualified for Expert in CQC and Handguns. +10 to Combat (Unarmed) and Combat (Handguns) rolls.
-Level 1 Weapons Qualifications: You have access to all the Level 1 weapons that the S3 has to offer.
-Mental and Physical Security: Your mind and body are well protected. +5 to Resist (Mental) and Resist (Physical) rolls.
-Sharp Investigator: Your mind is rather sharp, honed to pick out details. +10 to Investigation, Perception, and Intuition rolls.
-Familiar with Procedure: You are at least somewhat familiar with the procedure and protocol of the Service, meaning you won't get blind-sided by paperwork, probably. +10 to Knowledge (S3) rolls.
-Insatiable Appetite for Learning: You can't help but want to amass as much knowledge as possible, for what reason, you're not entirely sure. +10 to Learning.
-Studies at the S3: You did alright in the knowledge portion of training. Some of your lessons you absorbed like a sponge, except for magic… +15 to Knowledge (Lower Realm) rolls, +10 to Knowledge (Fey) rolls, and +5 to Knowledge (Upper Realm) rolls.
-Singer: You're pretty good at singing, perhaps not enough to do it professionally, but certainly better than most people. +10 to Performance (Singing) rolls and a chance for people familiar with really niche musicians to recognize you.
-In Your Element: When the going gets tough, you get going. When in dangerous situations, gain +20 to Resolve rolls.
-Gaze of the Mayan Gods: Because of the actions of your parents, the gaze of the Mayan gods are centered firmly on you, expect them to attempt to influence your life.
-Teachings of the Crow: Damien "Carrionbird" Rhodes himself decided to mentor you, passing on many of the lessons and experiences he's had throughout his career. +15 to Intimidation and relevant Knowledge rolls and +10 to Contacts (Underworld) rolls. In future cases, you also gain a chance to recall additional information from the lessons.
Weaknesses:
-Magically Inert: No matter what way you look at it, you just can't wrap your head around magic. Increased difficulty in learning magic.
-Obsession (Knowledge): Acquiring more knowledge is very important to you, who knows what lengths you might go for it? DC 55 Resolve Check.
-Very Minor Obsession (Lower Realm): You'd best be wary when interacting with the Lower, else you might find yourself getting lost in it. DC 35 Resolve Check.

Cursed: Brave not the rolling waves, else ye shall suffer my wrath
-Activator: Going out onto the water
-Breaker: ???

Combat Techniques
-UpLINE: A martial art based around fighting physically superior opponents. (+15 to Combat (Wrestling) rolls, 2 Damage, +2 Damage if Opponent is Superior, Unarmed)
-Blades of the Crow I (+10 to Combat (Dagger) rolls and +10 to Initiative, Chance to Disarm Opponents, Daggers)
-Dance of the Crow I (+10 to Dodge rolls and +10 to Initiative, Chance to gain an Opening)

Equipment
-Backpack (Storage (20 Tiny Items-10 Small Items-1 Medium Item), Backwear)
-Normal Clothing (Warm, Stylish, Pockets (4 Tiny Items-2 Small Items), Bodywear)

Super Science Creations
Chemistry
-Burninator (2 Burning Damage/Time, Spreads, 3 Uses per Refueling, 1 Hand, Small Item)
-Anti-Plant Spray (Autokill: Plants, 4 Uses per Bottle, 1 Hand, Small Item)
-MSB 10 (Removes Friction on Applied Surface, 1 Use per Can, 1 Hand, Tiny Item)
-Bloodthirst Pill (A pill that satisfies the Thirst that proto-vampires suffer through)
Sensory
-Infragoggles (Roll twice when making Investigation (Visual) checks, Allows sight into spectrums beyond human standard, Small Item, Headwear)
Weapons
-Cutter Rounds: Named for how the bullet 'cuts' through the air when fired. It acts as a hammer and chisel, breaking open armor. It also moves pretty fast too. +3 AP to guns.
-Advanced-Cutter Rounds: Named for how the bullet 'cuts' through the air when fired. It acts as a hammer and chisel, breaking open armor. It moves much faster than the normal Cutter Round, but suffers from a decrease in accuracy. +4 AP to guns but -20 to hit.

Super Science Research
-The Link Between Cultivation and Fallen Angels
-Gremlish Summoning Ritual
-Dullahans' Detachable Heads

Super Science Ideas
Weapons
-Accelerator Bullet: What if you could make a way for a bullet to accelerate by itself?
Armor
-Fallen Angel Armor: Fallen Angel feathers have a lot of properties, but their toughness is what interests you the most. But first, you'll have to get your hands on some of them to study
Materials
-Troll-Muscle Fibers
-Auto-Stitching Fibers
-Fallen Angel Ballistic Fiber: A suitably tough material that replicates some of the traits of Fallen Angel Feathers, though nowhere near the degree of actual Fallen Angel Feathers.
Tools
-Dullahan Remote Control: You'll need to get some scans of Sean or another Dullahan before you can start thinking of something.
-Vampire Jaw-like Clamps: these things could be useful for all kinds of things, from tournequites to grappling hooks.
-Vampiric Sponge: a sponge that soaks up blood quickly, useful for medical situations
-Ultra-Smooth Tubing: When you inevitably learn magic, you're going to be incorporating that into your super-science—that's a certainty. These will help you in that task by easily and efficiently transporting magical energy.
-Pathfinder HUD: A basic Heads Up Display that shows you the path forwards as long as there's a connection to the internet and there are up to date blueprints or surveillance systems
Chemicals
-Enhancing Serum: A serum that should temporarily enhance all your physical attributes, once you figure it out of course.

Super Science Designs
Chemistry
-Zoom Powder: An ingestible powder that, when consumed by living things, makes them go fast. Also can be added to gunpowder to make bullets go faster.
Materials
-RegenerThread: Threads that automatically sew up wounds and injuries as best they can.
-Re-Cuffs: Cuffs made of a thread that, when broken, reforms stronger than before. However, when an electric current is sent through it, it loosens and returns to its original strength.

Super Science Optimizations
Optimization: +15 Bonus to Optimizing MSB10: You've seen the peaks, now it's time to climb them)

Super Science Combinations
Materials
-??? Thread: A thread with the healing properties of RegenerThread, the repair abilities of ReCuff, the strength enhancement of Troll-Muscle Fibers, and the toughness of Fallen Angel Feathers. (Requires all four of these to be at least at the Testing stage of super-science and will be very difficult to make properly)

The Encyclopedia Hostilis is where the creatures you combat are recorded.

"Miss Williams." A smooth and rather elegant voice draws you from your daydreams, it's tinged with a hint of a british accent. You're sitting at your desk, a pencil in hand, a stack of construction paper in the corner, and a trash can overflowing with crumpled up ideas. "You have not eaten anything at all today and you are going to need your strength if you wish to be accepted into the S3."

You wipe the drool from your mouth as you push yourself up from the table you'd been leaning on. "Thanks, Walt." Walter, or Walt, as you call him, is your parents' AI. He's a real powerhouse when it comes to AI, if that time in Istanbul is anything to go by. "Can you just turn on the toasters? I'm not super hungry right now, so some toast should do the trick." You climb to your feet, pushing back the office chair as you stretch and yawn. "Wher-where's STEVE?"

"He is busy." Walter says, uncharacteristically brief.

"Busy with what?" You ask, stepping over a pile of clothes that a cleanerbot had yet to retrieve. You snatch a bag you've had packed for the last couple weeks from your bed. It contains some of the few things you've succeeded in creating, well, succeeded in creating and that actually work like they were supposed to.

"He is in The Box." You wince. …STEVE was one of your first creations, when you were going through the megalomaniacal phase that all super-scientists go through. As such, he's rather… minion-like in behaviour. "He has been in there since this morning."

"Let him out, Auth Code Itzabella Williams. He's been in there long enough." The Box is essentially a sensory deprivation tank located in a sub-dimension specifically designed to contain non-containable beings, like an AI or similar digital being. It's not a fun place to be, to say the least.

"As you say, Miss Williams." He acquiesces as you exit your room, stepping out into the too clean hallway. It had uniform tile floors and white walls, accented by blue paint. The door swooshes shut behind you as you shoved your hands in your pockets.

Your footsteps trail off as you meander towards the kitchens.

~~~~~~~

You bite into a slice of toast lathered with peanut butter, a handful of raisins top the quick breakfast. The crunch is delectable and, with the rejuvenation rays in the pantry, everything is as fresh as is physically possible. Some of the peanut butter gets on your lips as you bite, but you wipe it away while you chew.

You're sitting at the counter, on a red colored barstool built into the counter. It's been reinforced with some steel hybrid your father invented, just in case somebody needs to be beaten over the head with it.

"Heya, sport!" Your father, a super-geneticist, enters the room, dressed like a tennis player. Well, if a tennis player had muscles like a grecian god. Standing at well over 7 feet tall, your father is a virtual Adonis. Every piece of clothing he wears has to stretch over his outrageous musculature. The tightness that comes from that, combined with the tennis short-shorts he is currently wearing, are giving you some serious mental scarring, blegh. If only the guy who was making real life eye bleach hadn't died in a tragic hamster accident. "How's my favorite firstborn daughter doing?" He reaches over in an attempt to rustle your hair, which you deftly dodge.

"It is fine, just like it always is." Your 'mother', a super-roboticist, enters the room, dressed in a similar manner to your father. Much like your father could be considered by some as the pinnacle of the male form, your 'mother' could be considered the pinnacle of the female form. She looks like a living Aphrodite. You say living because you know, for a fact, that Aphrodite's super dead. You saw it happen yourself when you fell into a temporal vortex while you were exploring the ruins of Troy. "Why do you even have to ask, dear? The control group isn't going to be in any danger of being contaminated." She barely even spares you a glance, catching a specially created nutrient shake that your father tossed to her.

Control group, that's all you are to them, the control group in the experiment of parenthood. Your father, at least, pretends to care about your happiness and satisfaction. Your 'mother'... well, it's clear that she doesn't like you even as a concept, always referring to you as 'the control group' or 'it'.

If you were honest with yourself, it's the main reason you decided on joining the S3, not that your parents know about that yet. And, speaking of that… it's probably a good idea to tell them about that now, before a letter or a phone call or whoever the Service wants to contact you.

"Hey, uh," you begin, pushing up your glasses. Your father could've easily fixed the eyesight issue, but that would contaminate the 'control group', so here you are, suffering, "I recently made a big decision."

"Yes, yes, you can go to whatever movie it is that you want to see, just as long as you take a couple guardbots with you." Your 'mother' interrupts you, waving her hand as she downs the sludge-like mixture of the nutrient drink.

You scowl at her, but restrain yourself from doing anything rash just yet. "It's not that. I've deci-" She interrupts you again.

"Well, what else would you spend your time on, it's not like any of those designs of yours are actually worth anything." Your eye twitches. The only reason you struggle so much with designing things is because they decided not to teach you anything, not wanting to contaminate the fucking 'control group', instead you had to go about learning everything on your own, with no outside help at all. It's a fucking miracle that you ended up as well adapted as you are.

(Resolve Roll DC 60: 37+30=67, success)

"Would you shut the hell up for just one fucking second!?" You yell, or at least, you wished you yelled that at her. You so very much want to just unload on her, pour every last bit of adversity into a pot of boiling oil and throw it in her fucking face! …but you restrain yourself, if barely. It would serve you no advantage to do so now, not that they would be able to do anything about you joining the S3. They take things like trying to stop a prospective agent from joining very seriously.

What you actually say is, well, more blurt out is: "I'mjoiningtheService!" You have to force it all out in a pile of word vomit to get a word in edgewise with your 'mother' gearing up to start on one of her lectures.

They both blink at you owlishly, jaws open wide in astonishment as they process your statement.

"I'm joining the Service," you say again slower, to really drive it home, "and you can't stop me."

Your 'mother' sputters while your father looks to be shell shocked, "Y-you c-c-can't join the SSS! You're the control group for our experiment! That's going to contaminate you so much!"

"I said it once and I'll say it again, you can't stop me." You stand up from the barstool, standing eye to eye with your 'mother'.

"I forbid it!" She screeches, trying to use her status as your 'mother' to some advantage. Maybe it would've worked if you were still a naive kid, but that is no longer the case. "I'm your mother and you will listen to me!"

You shake your head, laughing as you walk towards the door. Your father finally shakes himself from his stupor and leaps to the door, blocking you from leaving. He wears a placating smile on his chiseled face. "N-now now, kiddo, let's think this through. This is a big decision you're making here, are you sure you want to go through with it?"

You stare up at him, a smug smirk on your face, and laugh in his. Or, well, you laugh in the direction of his face, you're far too short to do anything of that sort. "Were you not listening? I already made the decision. The papers are already signed, too late to stop me now. Wouldn't want to piss off the S3, now would you?" The color drains from his face, growing paler and paler at every following word.

His eyes widen as he comes up with one last idea. "Now hold on just a second, don't you need your legal guardians'," you roll your eyes at 'guardians', "agreement to sign anything legally binding?"

You stare up at him in disbelief. Does… Does he not know how old you are?! What a fucking dick! "I'm 23 years old, 'dad'." You respond with the driest delivery you can muster. His bottom lip quivers as he tries desperately to think of something, anything, to get you to stay. Ultimately a futile endeavor, you studied this one meticulously before you did it.

You take this opportunity and, as much as you hate this, slip through his legs and out the door.

You hear him whispering weakly as you breathe in that sweet, first breath of the fresh air of freedom. "Wasn't she 17?"

~~~~~~~

"So, Boss!" You hear STEVE's gremlin-ish voice coming from your watch, it doesn't really matter if they can track you, not like they want to risk the S3 coming down on their heads like a bolt of wrath. "What's the next step in your dastardly plan for WORLD DOMINATION?!" He trails off with cackling laughter.

"I'm not becoming a super villain, STEVE, I'm joining the S3. We're going to be lawmen, or rather, I'm gonna be a lawwoman." You reply as you sit on a park bench, your bag sitting next to you.

"Ah, the long-con! An idea of incalculable intelligence, my most malevolent mistress!" He compliments you with a cackle. Even if he was a product of your edgy youth, you can't help but feel fondly towards him. …even if he does go a little far sometimes, with his perceived 'evil plots'. The incident with the pigs should never have happened, those poor pig-human hybrids.

You hear a vehicle stop nearby and the sound of approaching footsteps. You turn to see what is clearly an agent of the S3. Black, heavy greatcoat, black suit and tie, sunglasses and an earpiece, yep, this is an agent alright. How the hell did they know you were here?

"Itzabella Williams?" The looming agent stops a yard away, a hand reaching into the greatcoat, either to grab a gun or something else, likely both, as the situation calls.

"That's me, you with the Service?" He nods, his hand shifting down slightly as he draws out a folded letter. You take it, thanking him as you unfold it.

Your eyes scan it, line by line, before flicking up to him. "I've been accepted?"

He doesn't react. "If that's what the missive says, then yes."

You feel a grin start creeping forth across your face. "When am I starting training?" You already know, from reading the letter, but you want to hear it out loud.

"Immediately."

Do you want to timeskip to the first case or play through training? You'll still get the bonuses you would've gotten from playing through it if you skip it, though you'll miss out on some opportunities, like potentially getting a mentor or forming bonds with your fellow trainees. Playing through it would also give you, the players, a chance to learn more about the world.
-[ ] Play through training
-[ ] Skip the training section

~~~~~~~

GM's Note: And here we go, Itzabella has taken the first steps towards becoming an agent and it's time for her to begin her training. Votes will be called on December 25th at 4 PM CST.

"I am KT Agent Daniels." KT Agent Daniels, the agent who picked you up from the park bench, says as he pushes open the large and heavy doors to the Chicago Division. The helmeted guards on either side of the door salute as he passes by with you following close behind. Likely a little bit too close, but you're nervous, you can be granted this at least!

(Perception (Auditory) Roll DC 70: 75, success)

As he pushes on the doors, you catch a faint mechanical whirring noise coming from… what sounds like his arms? You frown, brows furrowed as you process this.

(Knowledge (Super Science) Roll DC 45: 20+15=35, failure)

Your rioting nervous system stops you from being able to consult your knowledge. Your thoughts jump from topic to topic, from possibility to possibility. They never stick on one for long, leaping to and fro like crickets in the grass.

"You may call me KT Agent Daniels or Agent Daniels." He dryly continues, as the both of you approach the receptionist desk. The guns in the ceiling are still tracking you, which doesn't help your nerves a single bit. And the hostile glare Larry, the receptionist from a few days ago, levels at you isn't helping much in those regards either. You're already in a stressful situation, does he really need to pile more on!?

(Intuition Roll DC 50: 100, success.
70+0=70, double success.
Final Total: 2 Successes. This is a good omen, I reckon)

You blink, as realization dawns upon you. They're not doing this out of any real hostility, not at all. This is a test! Agent Daniels had said that the training had started immediately, so this must be part of it. You narrow your eyes as you contemplate what else might have been a test. That whirring… what if… you'd better ask, just in case.

After Agent Daniels signs the both of you in, you follow him through another set of doors, these ones thick and heavy and metal. As he opens them, you hear that noise again and figure that now's as good a time as any.

"Agent Daniels?" His eyes flick to you in response, a nod following close behind. "What's that noise? Coming from your arms, I mean." You ask, then clarify at his raised eyebrow.

A shallow laugh and a raised hand is your answer, "I was wondering if you were gonna notice. I had the dampeners off just for it." He plucks off the glove covering the raised hand, revealing a shiny metallic surface beneath. The robotic hand flexes and twists as the fingers wiggle. "It's vital for agents to have their eyes and ears and all their other senses peeled at all times. It's also vital that they don't discard anything, as it could very well prove instrumental in solving a case." He slips the glove back on, pulling it taut and tucking it in his sleeve.

"You didn't answer my question, at least not fully." You state, pressing him. Might as well go for it, not like they're going to penalize you for asking questions when they're training you for just that.

"Why don't you tell me what you think is the reason." The mechanical agent still hasn't fully answered your question, which you suppose is accurate to certain cases.

(Intuition Roll DC 65: 92, success)

You tap a finger against your chin, considering the possibilities. He showed you his hand, which was missing any sort of synthetic flesh. He also didn't reveal his arm or the other hand, which is also gloved. You can deduce from the sound coming from his arm that it is also robotic and, as such, is also likely lacking in synthflesh. Agent Daniels also mentioned turning off the dampeners, audio dampeners, you can assume. And since you didn't see him manually do it, and since you can't hear the noise now, he must have a neural connection of some kind. However, neural connections are rather dangerous to have, human minds don't have any sort of natural defense to hacking. Of course, that's only considering human minds. What has a natural defense to hacking?

You turn to Agent Daniels with a smirk on your face as you walk down yet another white hall, identical to the last dozen you walked down. "You're an Android, aren't you?"

"I'm certainly not a Gynoid." The revealed Android gives a soft smile. It's likely a good thing that you muted STEVE for this initial stuff, who even knows what he'd have said in response to that. "Good work figuring that out, why don't you walk me through the steps you took?"

You do so, guiding him through the mental paths you took to reach that conclusion. He nods along, guiding you through the facility just as you guide him through your thoughts.

However, your time with KT Agent Daniels is cut short as you finally arrive at the trainee processing center, where you'll receive orientation, according to the pamphlet you received upon turning in the paperwork.

Saying your goodbyes, you step into the room, taking the first proper step on the path of your new life.

~~~~~~~

You're standing in the orientation room, surrounded by, what you assume to be, your fellow trainees. You've been standing here for the last several minutes, just sort of… standing around. Some of the others started talking amongst themselves, but you refrained from joining in.

You had resolved to just walk out if no one appeared in the next few minutes, just in case it was a test of your initiative, when a door in a wall slams open and a manically smiling bald man comes stomping out onto a small stage. He's dragging a squirming, six-legged and man-sized bug monster behind him. It desperately wants to escape from his ironclad grip, but that's a pipedream and you think it knows it too. In his other hand he holds a thick knife that looks well-used and well-maintained.

He flings the bug thing forward, pinning it down with an arm as he raises the knife high above his head. The creature makes a noise that's clearly filled with terror as the man laughs and plunges the blade down, the audience transfixed by the spectacle.

(Perception (Visual) Roll DC 75: 93, success)

Except for a familiar looking half-elf woman who seems more bored than anything else. She, along with you and about 4 other people, don't seem to be affected by this. You're not, because you've seen a lot worse, hell, you've done a lot worse on your travels with your 'parents'. But that's obviously not the case for them, probably. Time travel is some bullshit.

Bright green bug juice sprays from the stab wound, coating the smiling bald man from head to toe. He stands up, ichor dripping from his spread arms and laughs, long and hard.

"Welcome to the Service, New Blood!" He shouts down at the gathered crowd from atop the stage, his green-stained pearly whites glinting in the artificial lighting. "Try not to die too quickly! Bloodstains and carpets are a bad mix!"

You didn't see any carpets on the way in, but that's probably beside the point.

"If you follow my directions!" He yells. He seems to like yelling a lot. "You won't be going back to your families in a small wooden box!" He pauses, then seems to add as an afterthought, "Probably."

He takes a deep breath and you swear you can see his lungs visibly inflate. "You might be wondering who I am, don't worry, you'll get to know me soon enough!" He flicks a thumb at his chest, the other hand still resting on his hip. "I'm Trainer-Agent Sarge! You will refer to me as Trainer-Agent Sarge!"

You're hoping that this isn't going to be a stereotypical bootcamp experience, you expected so much more from the Service than that. But then again, it's a job that requires great willpower

"Now, look to your left!" You do so. "Now your right!" You also do so, as does everyone else. There are a number of people in this room, 45-ish by your guess, standing in a cluster around Trainer-Agent Sarge. "What do you see?" He asks, to a rousing round of silence.

(Resolve Roll DC 55: 80+30=110, success
97+10=107, double success
96+7=103, triple success, no…
97+3=100, quadruple success, Jesus Christ
5+0=5, nothing, phew
Final Total: 4 Successes)

"My fellow trainees!" You reply, standing up straight as you stare the Trainer-Agent in the eye. The surrounding prospective agents nudge themselves away from you, giving you a wide berth of space in an effort to not be caught in the tirade they're sure is coming.

"What! Did you just say!?" He almost growls out as he rounds on you. If you were a lesser woman, that may have cowed you. If you were but a simple girl, you might have found that intimidating. If you were anyone but who you are now, that might have affected you in some meaningful way. But you are no mere woman, no mere girl.

You are Itzabella Williams and you are not afraid.

"I said!" You raise your voice to match his. "I see my fellow trainees!" What little of them there is to respect, you mentally add in response to them abandoning you.

You and the Trainer-Agent stare at each other, a contest of war waging wills. A vein pops out on his forehead as his teeth grind together. His fists twist into tight balls, the knife blade quivering in his grasp. For a moment, you think he's going to lose it, that he's going to use that knife on you.

But then, with no warning, his face turns blank and he slides the knife into the sheathe at his waist, hooked into his belt. A grin slides up the side of his face as he stares at you, a contemplative look in his eyes.

"You know, in all my years teaching you new bloods," he begins, his voice has a slight rasp to it when he's not yelling, "I've only ever seen four agents do that before." You don't need to be magical or to be wearing your Infragoggles to feel the dark aura that's sprung into existence around Trainer-Agent Sarge.

"I'm going to show you why it's only been four."

~~~~~~~

"Holy shit, you've got a pair of balls on you!" A voice, faintly tinged with an Irish accent, exclaims in awe as you slump into the barracks. You're dead on your feet, eyes blinking blankly in the general direction of the sound. You stare for a second, as two blurry men waver in your vision, slowly drawing closer and closer until they merge into one, clear being.

"My name's Sean, by the way." Your gaze shifts down as he holds his hand out. Slowly, laboriously, you shake his hand.

"Ah, leave the girl alone, you great Fey prick." Another voice, this one much more feminine, berates Sean. "Can't you see she needs some water?" Now that she mentions it, your mouth has been feeling kinda sahara-y.

She hands you a bottle of water, which you gratefully guzzle down, half-remembering to slow your pace, lest you throw it back up. It's cool on your water-starved body, the life-giving substance rejuvenating your body and mind.

"Thanks," you hand the now empty bottle back to her. "You can call me Itza." It's always a good idea to not give your real name to a Fey. With your sight restored, you're able to fully take in the two before you.

The Fey, according to the woman, is a tall, wallowy skinned man with a head of fiery red hair. He smiles at you, or at least, you think he does. It looks like his mouth is just sort of shaped that way.

(Knowledge (Fey) Roll DC 65: 82, success)

He's a Dullahan, if your memory serves you correctly, a rare breed of Fey. Rather dangerous when it comes down to it, but friendlier towards humans than most other Fey. Unlike most Fey, Dullahan are not weak to cold iron, instead, they're weak to gold. Not the greatest of weaknesses in this day and age, what with gold's prevalence in most electronics, but it's certainly better than iron.

They also have the ability to get into pretty much anyplace they want to, save for places locked via magical means. Doors swing open and locks unlock upon their approach and technology glitches and opens the way.

Whips are their forte, with the whip on his hip evidence of that. They're able to easily tear the eyes from your skull should you look at them while they're performing their ancestral task. And speaking of that, it would seem that this specific Dullahan isn't old enough to be given an area to roam in, to call for the dead and dying.

Sean has a green coat on with the collar popped. If you were to guess, it's likely to hide the scar-like birthmark around the neck that all Dullahan share. They're rather self-conscious about it, hiding it away from sight. It is the source of their power, after all. It's also what makes them immune to beheading. You imagine that if you had magical senses of a sort, you'd feel magical energies radiating from his neck.

Realizing that you're staring, you quickly look away, heat rising in your cheeks. "Ah, you can call me Itza." Even if Dullahan tend to be friendlier to humans, it's still not a good idea to give any actual piece of your full name to any member of the Fey. "Sorry." You add as an afterthought, Dullahan don't like to be looked at.

"No biggie," he waves it off, "I've spent enough time amongst Humans to know that you lot can't help but stare at all of this." He gestures at himself. "The ladies sure can't." He adds with wiggling eyebrows and a wink that sends your eyes rolling.

"Yeah, I'm sure that they just love that cream cheese you call skin." The woman snarks at him as he laughs, leaning against the wall with his hands laced behind his head.

Your water-bearing savior is about your height, so around 5'7". However, she is significantly more toned than you are, muscles well defined under her bright clothing. She's got an easy grin on her face, with thick blonde hair waterfalling down her back.

"Itza, right?" You nod. "My name's Jess, nice to meet you." You shake her hand, her grip is tight.

With introductions done you settle back, readying yourself for the coming months.

The training that the Service of Supernatural Solutions gives you is a very freeform one. Most of the time you'll be studying on your own, before being brought together for broader lessons, like on investigative procedure.

What do you focus your training on? You'll be trained in each regardless of what you choose, you'll just get an extra dice roll in the category you choose.
-[ ] Focus on Combat (You'll familiarize yourself with the more common weapons in use by the S3)
-[ ] Focus on Knowledge (You'll focus on learning of the myriad threats that the S3 contends with and how to kill them)
-[ ] Focus on Resistance (You'll focus on learning techniques and methods of resisting both mental and physical threats)
-[ ] Focus on Investigating (You'll focus on learning how the Service goes about investigating cases)

And of course, you're not going to be spending all your time training. What will you do on your time off for this month?
-[ ] Interact with a fellow trainee. Who?
--[ ] Sean McCullen
--[ ] Jess Farrow
--[ ] Someone Else
-[ ] Perform Super Science
--[ ] Brainstorm New Ideas (Come up with new ideas that you can then start designing)
--[ ] Optimize Creations. Which? (Have a chance to improve on a design in some way)
---[ ] Burninator
---[ ] Infragoggles
---[ ] Anti-Plant Spray

~~~~~~~

POV: The Feather

A tall man with a hawk-like nose stares at the trainee who had spoken up during orientation as she sweats through her clothing. She's being run ragged, long, long past when Sarge would normally stop his punishments. He normally doesn't even have to bring out the running track, but, well, here it is.

The tall man takes a long drag from the cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, exhaling the smoke cloud into the one-way glass.

Sarge is going to push her hard, too hard. He's not gonna stop until either she breaks… or she doesn't. If it's the former, well, she'll be a fine agent, he's sure. But if it's the latter…

Well, that's when things get… interesting.

(At the end of every month of training, of which there are five, you'll have a Resolve check. Pass each one and a special event shall occur)

~~~~~~~

GM's Note: I've added a section on your character sheet for your equipment and super science. Voting will be called tomorrow at 6 PM CST.

Q: I see that the items have sizes attached, what does that mean?
A: It's just how big an item roughly is. Tiny Items are gonna be something like a pill bottle, a pack of cigarettes, a magazine for a gun, things like that. Small Items are gonna be things like a handgun, a book, a set of investigation tools. Medium Items are gonna be longarms, swords, and lamps. Large Items don't show up much as they're kinda unwieldy, but things like cannons, turrets, and crates are what they are. Large Items can only be stored in large things, like a vehicle of some kind. They're not carried on your person.

(Handgun Training Roll DC 40,60,80
First Roll: 100, triple success, wtaf
48+0=48, quadruple success, bruh
Second Roll: 63, double success, yeah, we're going with the first roll, lmao)

Nobody, absolutely nobody, including yourself, expected you to be as good as you were with the pistol they gave you.

Shot after shot, target after target, you made sure that you were going to be remembered.

You scored near perfect on the final exam, hitting 49 of the 50 targets in two and a half minutes.

(Passing Idea Roll DC 50,70,100: 55, success)

And, while you were using that pistol, an idea popped in your head. What if… hey, that could actually work!

(Gain Trait: Expert Handgun Qualifications: While your skills aren't battle hardened, yet. But they're still not bad. +10 to Combat rolls when using a handgun and gain access to Level 1 Handguns)
(Gain an Idea: Accelerated Bullet: What if you could make a way for a bullet to accelerate by itself?)

~~~~~~~

(Longarm Training Roll DC 40,60,80
First Roll: 55, one success
Second Roll: 36, failure)

The bolt-action rifle kicks in your hands and you grimace, looking out at the rows of, mostly, unmarked targets.

You rack the slide, slamming the bolt home. You're gonna need to do better than that to pass and you're not intending to fail. You scowl and pull the trigger, the rifle kicking in your hands as a target's head explodes.

There, that's better.

(Gain Trait: Longarm Qualifications: You know how to shoot a longarm, which is more than you could before. You gain access to Level 1 Longarms)

~~~~~~~

(Heavy Weaponry Training Roll DC 40,60,80
First Roll: 22, failure
Second Roll: 44, success)

The rocket slams into the concrete and rebar structure, sending shrapnel and debris flying out in a very lethal shower.

You let loose a rather manic laugh that sends STEVE cackling as you slide another rocket into the tube on your shoulder. You can't help but have fun on the range, exploding things is fun!

(Gain Trait: Heavy Weaponry Qualifications: You've learned that heavy weapons are both very fun to use and very dangerous. You gain access to Level 1 Heavy Weapons)

~~~~~~~

(CQC Training Roll DC 40,60,80
First Roll: 82, triple success
Second Roll: 22, failure)

Your opponent's face slams into the mat, leaving droplets of spit as you mash his face further into the foam surface.

You grin as you lock his arm behind his back, it's just like with those ninjas!

(Gain Trait: Expert CQC Qualifications: You're rather limber, slipping out of grasps easily. +10 to Combat (Melee) and gain access to Level 1 Melee Weapons)
(The basic qualifications have been merged into a single trait)
(The expert qualifications have been merged into a single trait)

~~~~~~~

(Resist (Mental) Training Roll DC 40,60,80
First Roll: 93, triple success
Second Roll: 79, double success)

Your eyes open up in the meditation room, air leaving your lungs at a steady, controlled pace.

You can feel a mental wall around your mind, protecting it from hostile threats. You allow a small smile to form, safety is a precious commodity.

(Gain Trait: Mental Security: Your mind is protected by a decent strength mental shield. +5 to Resist (Mental) rolls.)

~~~~~~~

(Resist (Physical) Training Roll DC 40,60,80
First Roll: 97, triple success
Second Roll: 43, one success)

You flex, muscles straining against the chains of magical energy binding your arm. Your teeth grind together as veins pop-out in your slender arms. You will break free, you will move forwards!

Finally, impossibly, you feel the chain give way as your willpower overpowers the magic.

The elation you feel as the chain snaps… it's euphoric.

(Gain Trait: Physical Security: Things have a tougher time sticking to you than before. +5 to Resist (Physical) rolls.)
(The security traits have been merged into one trait)

~~~~~~~

"So, uh, you've obviously got something going on with you." You're watching from the sidelines as Jess bench presses what looks to be a couple tons of magnetically enhanced weights.

You're in the Chicago Division's gym right now and it looks like how you imagined it. Red cushioned floors with equally red paint coating the bottom half of the walls. There's a wall of mirrors, with a couple muscle bound men in sweaty wife-beaters flexing at themselves. From speakers mounted in the ceiling comes softly pumping generic music. It's not really your vibe, you're much more of a sterile lab kinda gal, the stench of sweat and wet surfaces is a bit much for you.

Jess quirks an eyebrow as she lifts the bar up for a final time and places it in the holders. She sits up, accepting the water and towel that her spotter, a quiet half-troll, offers her. "What do you mean by that?" She asks, taking a swig from her water as she wipes down her face.

"N-nothing bad!" You're quick to clarify, eyes wide and hands waving in a placating manner. "I just mean that, well, scientifically speaking, humans aren't' capable of lifting multiple tons, barring extreme circumstances that involve hysterical strength, of course. Not that I think that you're not capable of lifting that much! I just saw you do it! It's just no-" She cuts off your socially awkward verbal waterfall with a hand.

"I get what you mean," Jess winks and taps the side of her temple, "I've got a good brain up in here."

You rub the back of your head. "Yeah, it looks like."

"But," she stretches her back, one arm sticking straight up, "to answer your question, I'm a superhuman. Standard brawler-type, Super Strength and Super Toughness, Grade 3 in both. But I've got a couple other Grade 1's, so don't go thinkin' I'm a dumb brute, you hear?"

You nod. "I hear."

"Rad." The superhuman shoots you a grin as her eyes drift over your skinny arms. "You want me to show you a thing or two? Help you get started?" She jerks a thumb over at the lighter weights.

"...Sure." You eventually accept, apprehensive of the whole thing. You're not exactly the most active of people, though you do keep in shape as best you can. Hopefully Jess' 'getting started' isn't too superhuman, you don't exactly have the biology to handle that!

"YES! The Mistress has acquired a minion who shall propel her to new, never before seen heights! What a glorious and momentous day!" STEVE pipes up, doing his part as best he can. You open your mouth to explain what he means as you catch Jess staring, but she beats you to it.

"Super Scientist?" You nod. "Supervillain phase, then." She nods to herself as you awkwardly grimace.

"Yeah…" You start to explain yourself but she stops you once again.

"No need to explain, I understand." A gleaming smile filled with pearly white teeth and a thumbs up. "Superhuman, remember?" She laughs, a charismatic and light thing, and you release a couple shallow laughs as well, rubbing at your elbow.

This socializing thing is harder than you thought!

(Jess Farrow gains +1 Opinion of you. Jess Farrow added to characters)

~~~~~~~

(Resolve Roll DC 60: 66+30=96, success)

You rise from the mud, ears ringing as you more feel than hear Trainer-Agent Sarge screaming in your ear. You wipe the mud from your eyes as you crack a smirk, it's gonna take more than that to break you!

(1 passed, 4 more to go)

~~~~~~~

With your time off for this month, what will you do? (You may pick up to three)
-[ ] Interact with a fellow trainee. Who?
--[ ] Sean McCullen
--[ ] Jess Farrow
--[ ] Someone Else
---[ ] That half-elf lady
---[ ] That half-troll man
---[ ] Random
-[ ] Perform Super Science
--[ ] Brainstorm New Ideas (Come up with new ideas that you can then start designing)
--[ ] Design a Creation (Create an actual design from an idea)
---[ ] Accelerator Bullet
--[ ] Optimize Creations. Which? (Have a chance to improve on a design in some way)
---[ ] Burninator
---[ ] Infragoggles
---[ ] Anti-Plant Spray
-[ ] Visit a Facility
--[ ] Study past cases at the Library
--[ ] Get some time in at the Range
--[ ] Pump some iron in the Gym

~~~~~~~

GM's Note: Alrighty, next update is in. Updates like this, where it's covering downtime and training and things like that, are gonna be shorter than an update that's covering a case or assignment or a notable event. Voting will be called tomorrow at 6 PM CST, thank you for reading.

You're going to keep working on your Resist training each update of this training section. Each rank of it will require three successes to level up (right now, later it'll increase), so you have a chance to get up to +25 in each by the end of this!