Age of Power: Dawn

[Mazrick]

Age of Power: Dawn​

XXXXXXXXXXXXX, United States of America
August 31, 2018

Today is a day like any other. Hot as hell outside your comfortably air-conditioned apartment. Your phone's alarm buzzes loudly. Hit the snooze button a couple times and roll back over into the comforting oblivion of sleep. Finally, wake up. Ignore the exercise bike in the corner of your room. Slip on your favorite fuzzy bunny slippers as you trudge out of bed. Make a cup of coffee. Two sugars. One Cream. Give mom a call. Endure her boasting about your older sister the spy as you eat a bowl of Raisin Bran. Surf the Internet. Play a bit of Golden Eye on your N64. Turn on the shower tap. Wait a bit. Water goes from cold to warm to scalding hot.

Muscles relax under the deluge of water once you step in. You scrub the morning's filth from your skin, and thoughts of the coming day begin to percolate through your mind. You'll get to work about an hour later than everyone else, but at least the traffic won't be so bothersome. Gerald, the accounting manager, won't care. On a slow day, you get almost twice the work done than any of the other accountants in the division. Dad says you should ask for a raise. Why? You have everything you need. Internet. You'll-

Your body freezes.

Everything is light. You shout out in alarm. Reflexively, you clamp your eyes shut. If anything, the light becomes brighter and brighter. That's impossible. Still, it gets brighter and brighter. It seeps through your skin. Blood freezes. Muscles snap. You're held aloft by some unknowable force. Bones burn to ash. Cells scream out in alternating agony and pleasure.

And, it's as if perspective shifts. The world looks different from this angle.

Levitating a full foot above the ceramic surface of his bathtub, the brilliant but lazy Robert Smith is scourged with miraculous power. The talented accountant known to his few close friends and family as 'J.D.' is broken down to his basest form. A portly man receives power no man has ever wielded. It is carved into his very flesh.

You come back to yourself. A song at the edge of understanding cascades around and about you. It hints at secrets, and nudges you with forbidden knowledge. Vaguely humanoid shapes, shadows in the sea of light, ghost in and out of your perception. You are not alone. There are others. Many others. THeir powers seem strange and alien and as turbulent as the cone of a tornado.

The world around you hums, it vibrates as if waiting for you to reach out and grasp it! Doing so is as natural as breathing.

The light vortexes violently about you and through you.

The song fades.

The Light disappears.

Something new dawns.

Nothing will ever be the same again.

---

You are Robert J.D. Smith, a successful, if unremarkable, accountant at a Fortune 500 company... and you have been imbued with powers that until just ten minutes ago would've been impossible! Some would call it magic. Others parahuman abilities. Or latent metahuman qualities. You don't know what to call it. But, you do have a sense of what you can do!

You are a Telekinetic. As in, you can move things with your mind! As your powers develop, here is the opportunity to shape them as you wish. These abilities will grow with time and effort, but your starting point is nothing to be trifled with!

This is a Point-Buy opportunity.

Potency- amount of overall force you can control.

Spoiler: Potency

1: Control 50 N
2: Control 1,000 N
3: Control 5,000 N
4: Control 10,000 N
5: Control 500,000 N
6: Control 1,000,000 N
7: Control 5,000,000 N
8: Control 10,000,000 N
9: Control 250,000,000 N
10: Control 5,000,000,000 N

Multi-tasking- the amount of objects you can control at once. One object is a specific grouping of matter.

Spoiler: Multi-tasking

1: Control 1 object
2: Control 2 objects
3: Control 5 objects
4: Control 10 objects
5: Control 25 objects
6: Control 50 objects
7: Control 100 objects
8: Control 1,000 objects
9: Control 2,500 objects
10: Control 5,000 objects

Reaction- the speed at which you can perceive and react to movement of objects

Spoiler: Reaction

1. Base Human (5 m/s)
2. Peak Human (7.7 m/s)
3. Subsonic (200 m/s)
4. Sonic (343 m/s)
5. Supersonic (Mach 2)
6. Supersonic+ (Mach 4)
7. Hypersonic (Mach 5)
8. High Hypersonic (Mach 50)
9. Massively Hypersonic (Mach 100)
10. Lightning (Mach 550)

Finesse- level of fine control and precision you possess

Spoiler: Finesse

1. Accurate to within 50 meters
2. Accurate to within 10 meters
3. Accurate to within 5 meter
4. Accurate to within 1 meter
5. Accurate to within 0.5 meters
6. Accurate to within 1 decimeter
7. Accurate to within 1 centimeter
8. Accurate to within 500 micrometer
9. Accurate to within 1 micrometer
10. Accurate to within 1 nanometer

Range- how far your power can reach beyond your person. Based on line of sight.

Spoiler: Range

1. 0 meters
2. 1 meter
3. 10 meters
4. 25 meters
5. 50 meters
6. 100 meters
7. 500 meters
8. 1,000 meters
9. 5,000 meters
10. 10,000 meters

Sense- your level of awareness of matter in the surrounding environment

Spoiler: Sense

1. Effectively sense-blind outside your line of sight.
2. Vague, non-instinctive awareness
3. Pulsating innaccurate radar, instinctive awareness
4. Basic and constant 360 awareness, blurry details
5. 360 awareness on par with other senses
6. Can sense topographical elements of solid objects
7. Can sense structural elements of solid objects
8. Can sense elements of liquid, solid, and gaseous materials
9. Can sense chemical compositions
10. Can sense energy emanations

Point-buy system. You have 30 points to spend. Each stat starts at a base of 1. 2/3 cost 1 point each; 4 costs 2 points. 5/6 cost 1 point each; 7 costs 3 points. 8/9 cost 1 point each; 10 is 7 points.

Additionally, you will have two lesser support powers. Teleportation and Slothful mind. The former will be defined largely based on what you choose here, and the latter is a mental defense power!

---

Anyways, I hope ppl have fun! This is mostly a game meant as a change of pace from my other quest. Totally different protag with totally different powers.

THERE IS A TWO HOUR VOTING MORATORIUM.

 

[Mazrick]

Character Sheet:
Name: Robert J. D. Smith
Age: 23
Brief Biography: Grew up in the suburbs of Dallas. Stable family life. Mostly happy. Father was a talented bureaucrat, but without any drive to move up. Mother quit teaching to be a homemaker when he was born. Older sister works in Washington for the CIA. Breezed through High School and University with comfortable grades. Now a bachelor working in the accounting department of a major corporation.
Description: Average Height. Brown Hair. Brown Eyes. Spectacles. Could be attractive, but is slightly overweight. Slouches. Cleanly shaven.

Beyond Clever- You're used to being the smartest person in the room. You remember almost everything. You can do complex math in your head. You can pick up languages with great speed. Made your two years of Spanish a breeze! Not that you've ever applied your faculties for anything beyond skating through school with minimal effort.

Creative Impulse- You have pretensions of being an artist. Your parents even have several paintings hanging in their suburban town house. Creative thoughts, those impulses that go outside the box, tend to crop up quite often. Too troublesome to pursue!

Lazy Reputation- You are lazy and often undependable. It is known. Others do not come to you when they have serious problems or issues. That's suits you just fine!

Comfortable with Mediocrity- As long as you have food on your table, a warm bed, a roof over your head, and a working internet connection, you couldn't care less about rising above the fray.

Abilities:
Telekinesis

• Potency: 5- Control 500,000 N of Force.
• Multitasking: 3- Control 5 objects at once.
• Reaction: 8- React and perceive motions up to Mach 50
• Finesse: 6- level of fine control and precision you possess. Accurate up to within 1 decimeter
• Range: 3- power extends ten meters away from your body
• Sense: 5- 360 awareness on par with other senses up to 10 meters from your body.

WARNING: Exceeding your limits, pushing the boundaries of your ability is tiring. Like a muscle overworked during exercise, if you tax your abilities too far, they will weaken or malfunction until they can properly recover.

Teleportation

• Through conscious effort teleport anywhere within your sphere of perception.
• Currently you may only safely teleport 4 times within a eight hour span. A fifth time will cause unconsciousness.
• May not maintain active telekinetic control as you teleport.
• May not take anything with you when you teleport.
• May not teleport into a space occupied by other solid matter.

Sloth's Mind

• A defensive mental manifestation of your Slothful persona. Those with abilities that affect the mind will find themselves stymied when trying to influence your thoughts! Only extremely powerful mental manipulations might overcome this ability.
• When this ability is actively being tested by an outside source, a heightened sense of malaise and ennui and indifference will come over you.
• If a mental attack fails against this defense, then the attacker is under threat of being sucked into a magnified and elongated sense of sloth. It's basically like someone getting stuck in quicksand!

Link to my discord chat: Discord - Free voice and text chat for gamers

 

[Mazrick]

The Light fades.

Thoughts race through your mind, foreign sensations take hold, a new awareness presses down upon you. Hot water continues to rain down from the shower head. An ocean full of data pours into your mind. A poor vessel for so much information! For a second, it's as if you can feel everything in your immediate vicinity, you know it as if it were the back of your own hand! You can feel the electrons flowing through the circuit's in the wall. The flow of water racing through pipes. Pipes made of steel, copperplastic.Tilesmadeofceramicawomandownstairsbloodthroughbrittleveinscancerouscells-

Your head swims. You go weak in the knees. That sixth sense loses focus even as you stagger. You slip on the low friction surface. You're falling. Going to bust your head open like a watermelon on the Fourth of July. You blink. Time slows down. Your fall slows to an absolute crawl. The world almost stands still. No. Your perception sped up incredibly. This is truth. Some new and alien part of your mind informs you matter of factly. That same part of your mind tells you to reach out with an impossible part of your will. Gently, like a leaf on the wind, you take hold of yourself. You halt your fall very, very carefully. Using Telekinesis on yourself is not something done lightly.

As you slowly levitate yourself back to a suitable standing position, an exulted grin carves itself onto your lips. Against all the laws of physics and science known to man, you are a full-fledged Telekinetic bad ass. The full range of your abilities, the possibilities of gaining even more power settles upon your mind. The accelerated perception recedes.

Thoughts become wild and chaotic. The smile falters. The water continues to beat down on you rhythmically. On the other side of the shower curtain, you can feel every contour of your bathroom. Below you, underneath layers of steel and wood and plaster, Cherly Donovan sleeps alone in her big bed. Can't exactly see her or hear her, but you can easily identify her. If you close your eyes, you can easily picture her. You remain in the shower for a full five minutes more. Deep breath. The constant stream of hot water is comforting. Deep breath. Keeps you from being overwhelmed. Deep breath. Everything's going to be fine!

Takes a while for you to stop freaking out. If you hadn't just levitated a good foot off the ground, you'd think you're nuts. You don't know how long you stay in the shower. The mixture of alien knowledge mixing with common thought freezes you in place. Eventually, you can move. The water's definitely cold and your fingers and toes are so pruned its painful. Goosebumps pimple your flesh.

Once you've managed to collect yourself, you pull back the shower curtain and take an instinctive step out. Need to grab your towel. Need to- Your foot freezes mid-step. A thought rumbles through your anxious mind. A moment of calm clarity. Focus. You know where you want to be! An instant later, you're standing before the bathroom's sink. Completely dry. The beads of water and moisture and remnants of soap and shampoo were left behind! Can't take anything with you.

In a daze, almost as if you've entered a fantastic dream world, you stumble to your room. Not even bothering to turn on the lights or open a curtain, you easily navigate your large room. Finding the clothes you want, a pair of stylish jeans and a too-expensive T-shirt that does its best to hide your muffin top, is a breeze. Don't even have to look to find where your shoes are under your bed. No way are you going to work today. No way. Probably not even going to leave the apartment, but getting dressed gives you time to think. You take your time. Your thoughts seem to be muddled and slow.

The sound of your smartphone going off finally manages to shock you into action. The sound of the Imperial March playing makes you shake your head. Mom's calling. Can't deal with her right now. You let it ring through to voicemail. Call her back later.

Looking at your phone, you see a dozen notifications. That's strange. You're definitely not one for social media. That's a whole dumpster fire best left alone. You thumb through them. They're all mentioning some big world-wide event. Domes of Light over hundreds of cities world-wide.

Shit.

You find the remote easily enough. It's wedged underneath your mattress. Somehow. A flicker of Will brings the remote to your waiting hand. Convenient. Don't watch much TV. The internet is a thing after all, but if it's that big--you get the sinking suspicion it is!--then it'll be on every channel. Need information. Need to see what's going on.

"-ing News!" says the pretty talking head on the television. Deborah Salinger's blonde hair gleams in the studio's light. The usually composed Channel 8 anchor looks panicked. "We have multiple reports from across the world of hundreds of these- these strange phenomena making appearances simultaneously. Some reports say they span over dozens of miles. Reports of fatalities from traffic incidents and several plane crashes have begun to filter in. No official word from the White House as of yet, but we await President Trump's response. Stay tuned for continuing coverage of this developing situation. Wait- we have Breaking News! Now to Brian Austin, who's live aboard Chopper 8!"

The screen shifts to an overhead view of Downtown Dallas. There are fires and car crashes everywhere. Gridlock like you wouldn't believe. There's a giant red monster raging through the lanes of I-30. He sends cars, trucks, and pedestrians flying with a half-assed swipe of his arm. He bellows unintelligibly at the heavens. The sound of sirens mixed with the roar of the helicopters rotor provide an apocalyptic soundtrack, but you're not listening to the reporter any more. Memories of strange faces flicker through your mind. The world seems engulfed in chaos. These Light Domes popped up all over the place.

Your phone rings again. Mom. Mute the TV. This time you pick it up.

"Robert!" She says as you put the latest and greatest smartphone to your ear. She's the only one who calls you that, and only when she's upset. "Where are you? Are you okay? You're not out there are you?"

"Yeah, mom." You answer. Your eyes remain glued to the TV screen. A policeman fires some sort of assault rifle at the Rage monster. Just manages to piss it off even more before he goes splat! You grimace.

"Thank god!" Her voice cracks in panic. She hesitates. Not like her.

"Are you okay?" You ask. It's your turn to panic. Might not be super close to your parents, but you love them all the same.

She hesitates again. "I'm fine. No need to worry about me!"

"Where's dad?" You ask immediately.

"H-he went down to City Hall this morning." She finally says. Naked panic is evident in her voice. The thought of your father, the agining and retired bureaucrat, out in that chaos makes your stomach plummet. "He won't answer. He's still out there. Anything could have happened to him, Robert. I was so afraid when you didn't pick up! Can't get a hold of Ashley either!"

"I'm okay." You reassure her quietly. Have to be strong for her. "Ashley's probably just busy dealing with all of this craziness." That's true. What kind of shitstorm would this put on her plate? You don't want to know. All she ever says is that she's a field agent for the CIA. The rest is classified. She could tell you, but 'then she'd have to kill you!' On the television, a creature made of black fire has entered the fray. He's wrestling the bigger creature. It's like something out of a comic book or a video game. You continue after a moment, "And I'm sure Dad's alright. Can't think of many places better protected than City Hall!"

Not that the police seem to be able to do anything to the two monsters fighting it out through burnt out husks of cars.

"Right..."

She doesn't sound convinced.

Above you, you sense Carl locking and loading. He's got an arsenal up there. The veteran's a doomsday prepper. You're on friendly terms with him. Since getting out of the service, he's been a trainer with the Cowboys for years. On occasion, he'd offer you prime tickets. No thanks. Like the military, organized sports was never your thing. Privately, you thought he was nuts when he showed you his safe room and his myriad supplies. The man had detailed topographical maps of the entire DFW area! He even told you about a 'fallback location' out in the boonies. Definitely paranoid. One too many RPGs launched at his head. Now, he seems oddly prescient.

What do you do?
[] Stay on the line with mom. Provide moral support. Nothing you can do out there. Surely, the authorities will restore order.
[] Go up and see Carl. If anybody is prepared for this madness, he is. Maybe you can tag along as he plays soldier again.
[] It's stupid. Idiotic. You're not likely to find dad in all of this, but you can't stay here while he's out there all alone. Go find him.
[] Write-in.

 

[Mazrick]

You continue to chatter meaninglessly with mom for a couple more minutes. All the while you can't shake the absurd thought forming in your mind. It's stupid. Idiotic. Dallas isn't some podunk town. It's almost 400 square miles of concrete and chaos. More than a million people live here. Just now, it seems dangerous! You're not likely to find dad in all of this, but you can't stay here while he's out there all alone. You're not a hero. Not some sort of altruistic do-gooder. Hell, you've never volunteered a day in your life!

Besides, if he is at City Hall, armed guards are probably swarming the place. You didn't lie to mom. There's usually no safer place. A glance at the TV tells you things are far from normal. The two monsters are still locked in a brawl. Police ring them in a wide perimeter. This is Dallas. The police are well armed. All for naught. Assault rifle bullets do nothing to either of them. They ping harmlessly off the big red bastard and just seem to burn up when they make contact with the Black Fire Thing's form. You shake your head. It's like something out of a video game. Going out into that kind of environment? Tantamount to suicide. You like living. Thank your very much.

All of that doesn't change what you're going to do. It's simple. Go find him. He's your father. When you failed to make every athletic team you ever tried out for, he was always there with a comforting smile and a game of chess. The old man always loved a good game, even though you nearly always won.

If something happened to the old man, and you didn't even try to go look for him, you'd never be able to look yourself in the mirror again! You levitate the remote effortlessly. Not like you're defenseless. Try to turn the TV off with a measure of Will. Instead, you change the channel. Needs some work, but that's for later. Now, you make some excuses to mom. You need to take a shower. You'll call her later. Of course, you won't go out into town. Lying's not hard. You've been making up excuses your entire life. Second nature.

Once you hang up and put the phone on vibrate--seen too many movies where an untimely phone call spelled doom for the protagonist!--you move to your closet. If you're going out there, you might end up using Telekinesis to defend yourself. That thought makes your stomach squelch up uneasily. You've never so much as thrown a punch in anger. The idea of using this new ability to hurt someone, even someone who's trying to hurt you? Almost enough to make you abandon the whole harebrained idea. Almost.

Instead, you quickly pull down a grey hoodie and pull it on. 'Volcom' is emblazoned on the back in teal colors. A hold over from your wannabe Skater phase. Flip up the hood. Float a ski mask out of it's hiding place in a nearby drawer. That skiing trip with the family wasn't a total waste of time after all! Going to be hot as all hell out there in all this, but if you can keep even an ounce of anonymity? Worth it. Grab your prescription sunglasses. Makes your already darkened room almost as dark as night-time when you put them on. With this new sixth sense, you don't mind in the least. Put some driving gloves on. Don't need to leave finger prints if anything crazy happens. Take a look in the bathroom's mirror. You'd draw a bunch of strange looks wearing this. It is the end of August in Texas after all. But, no one will know who the hell you are.

You take off the disguise, and throw it an old backpack. Haven't used that since university.

Well, that's your disguise. What else could you need? Follow Carl's example. You end up throwing a Yeti thermos full of water in the gym bag, a couple Slim Jim's, a couple hundred dollars in large bills, a portable first aid kit, a charger for your phone... and you throw in a couple more dangerous things. Don't want to appear too suspicious if a cop stops you or something, but you can't go out there totally unprepared. You put a roll of quarters in there. An unused pocket knife still in its original packaging. A dozen zip ties. Some pepper spray your mom bought you years back.

That's five minutes of prep. With the backpack looped over both of your shoulders, you head downstairs. Force of habit makes you step towards the elevators. Only after you're halfway down does the possibility of the elevators breaking down occur to you. Idiot! Have to be smarter. Have to adapt. Things are going to be different from now on.

The lobby is deserted when you get down there. In fact, you haven't seen anyone since you left your apartment. If not for your sixth sense, you'd think the whole place was deserted. Nope. Everyone's holed up in their rooms waiting for order to reassert itself. They might be waiting quite a while.

You reach the exit of the building. The sight of crashed cars lines the street. You're not getting anywhere driving. Several cars are on fire. You can smell the smoke through the door. Here and there you catch sight of people, but they're moving around in panic. Won't be long before the riots start. It's a nightmare.

You slip out of the relative safety of your apartment building. Suddenly, you feel exposed. Momentarily, you forget about the badass Telekinetic powers that you've somehow found at your fingertips. The smell of burning gas and upholstery and plastic makes you choke. The sound of sirens. Both the big emergency ones and those on patrol cars sound sharply through the city.

It'd be so easy to just go back up to your apartment and wait. No. You're not some dang hero, but a man has to be able to live with himself.

On foot, it will take some time to to reach City Hall. Two paths lay before you. Dallas is a product of urban sprawl. Not pedestrian friendly!
[] Take the shortest path. That will take forty-five minutes. Goes through a bad neighborhood though.
[] Take a roundabout path. Takes ninety minutes. This path will intersect with the way dad would go to City Hall.

How do you make your way?
[] Incognito. Find somewhere out of the way, somewhere that's not your apartment building, to slip into your disguise.
[] Just as you are. Don't attract attention. Keep moving. Keep your head down. Avoid trouble. You'll manage to get there!
[] Write-in.

 

[Mazrick]

A moment of indecision strikes. Never done anything like this. Your hands are shaking. Sweat's already beading on your forehead. The city's falling apart. Living breathing monsters, things better suited to genre literature, are duking it out on a major highway. This is far and away the dumbest thing you've ever done. So much safer to stay in your room. The military's going to be rolling into the city any time now.

Doesn't matter. You have to try to find your dad.

So, you force yourself to turn to the left. Just standing here is asking for trouble. Have to keep moving. Keep your head down. Don't attract attention. Might take longer, but this path will let you cover some of the route between your parent's house and City Hall. Dad might be along that route. With any luck, he's safe and sound surrounded by a small army. Can't rely on wishful thinking. Have to be sure.

You begin striding along the sidewalk. The sound of sirens blares through the air. Half a block later, and you realize this isn't getting you anywhere fast. Time is of the essence. A solution occurs to you. There's a bike rack not too far away. Some of your co-workers were talking about a bike sharing app. No time for that. No time to backtrack and ask to borrow a bike from some of your neighbors. You've never stolen a thing in your life. Never even come close to breaking a law. For Christ's sake, you don't even speed.

There's a first for everything! Half a dozen high-end bikes are chained up near a small park. You rush over towards them. As you approach, they enter the radius of your Senses, and you note one thing immediately. They're all chained up. Of course they are. You're not a bike connoisseur, but you pick the best looking bike of the lot. Don't need it popping a chain or blowing a tire. Breaking the lock is effortless. It shatters with a loud metallic wrenching sound. The broken pieces clatter noisily to the ground. The amount of power at your disposal is terrifying.

Riding the bike is awkward. That's an understatement. Been years and years since you last rode one of these things. It's not like you've forgot how, not really, but it takes you a few false starts to really get going. Luckily, there's not really anyone around to chortle at the out of shape twenty-something nearly falling off the damned thing! Another thing you didn't take into account: Your legs are burning and you're out of breath after a single mile. The stitch in your side is painful as hell too!

The streets are jam packed with wrecked and deserted cars. You pass several groups of armed people. They're carrying bats and chains and all sorts of improvised weapons. Definitely up to no good. You manage to steer well clear of them. At one point, someone throws a brick at you. You guide it just a foot away from hitting you. Another idiot in gang colors starts chasing you. He's fast. But, when he nearly catches up to you despite your furious peddling, well, you swipe his feet out from under him without looking back. He's goes down with a cry. Might've used more force than you intended. His foot is barely hanging on by some sinew. You can feel the blood gushing out of the ruined limb. You don't look back. You're not a hero. Have to get out of here. have to reach your dad.

The man's cries remain with you for a long time after he's left your Sense-range. You want to vomit, to go back and check on the gangbanger. You don't. That would cause even more trouble. Not a hero.

The rioting and looting are about to start. Wonderful. Getting off the streets sounds like a wonderful idea. Taking another shower to wash off the deluge of sweat coating every inch of your body sounds even better. Can't do that. Certainly, there's some way you could use your unfathomable power to move through the city faster, to not feel like a pathetic fat ass all-but crawling through a chaotic city on a stolen bike! Definitely can't do that. Have to understand your powers, need to test them, before you try anything dangerous.

You wipe your forehead, and force the bike forward. Sometimes you have to get off the bike to navigate through a particularly congested intersection. Those moments are heavenly. Your ass hurts from the bike seat. Your legs feel like jelly. Seems like you have multiple stitches in your side now. Didn't even know that was possible! You end up sitting in a shady area for five nerve racking minutes. Have to stay hydrated. That's important.

Five minutes turns into ten minutes turns into fifteen.

Eventually, you get up the drive to continue. The sun's climbing higher and higher. The day just gets hotter and hotter. Why couldn't you live somewhere cooler, somewhere where there weren't endless streets to circumnavigate, somewhere like Siberia!

According to your phone, it's 10:15 AM. You've been out here for nearly forty minutes. Been maybe ninety minutes since the Light. You're drawing close to City Hall now. No sign of dad. Another five minutes, and you'll be at City Hall. Your phone also reports that Martial Law has been implemented across the country. Strange. This close to the Dallas' seat of power, you would think it's be crawling with military personnel. No tanks. No APCs. Nadda.

Then you turn approach a familiar corner. There's a loud chorus of "Syr-Rah-Dow" which manages to blot out the constant droning of sirens. You come to a stop, step away from the bike, and peek around the corner. Then you see something you'll never forget.

About three hundred yards away, a petite black woman is standing on a truck bed. She looks entirely unremarkable in a conservative business suit, yet the sea of people surrounding her bothers you. Nearly two thousand people, black and white and hispanic, fluorescent-clad construction workers and sharply dressed business-types, are packed tight around her. She's speaking. You can't hear her voice, but you can only wonder at the looks of adoration and unmitigated pleasure plastered on everyone of the other people's faces.

They haven't noticed you, but it's only a matter of time. People at the edge of the group are being funneled closer to the woman on the truck. And no matter how much they resist the pull of the crowd, once they get closer, their defiance melts away. They stare with unrepentant devotion at the speaker. This is definitely not normal.

While you try to figure out what to do, you scan the crowd. There's the mayor, the chief of police, and a bunch of other power players. Your stomach plummets when you spot your dad amidst the throng. He'd always been the one to caution you against religion, against worshiping anything, and there he is looking up at the woman like she's the Virgin Mary,

This is wrong. She has to have some power.

What do you do?
[] Back off to a safe distance. Maybe go in a nearby building with a good view. Observe what's going on. More information couldn't be a bad thing, right?
[] Find somewhere away from prying eyes. Put on your disguise. Go and get your dad. Maybe getting him away from that woman will fix him.
[] Try to knock out the woman using your power. There has to be a way! If she's not conscious, maybe her power will lose its sway.
[] Write-in.

 

[Mazrick]

You stare at the mob for a few moments longer. None of them so much as look in your direction. They only have eyes for the black woman standing in their midst. Except, for those who are dragging unwilling people closer and closer to the beating heart of their group. When they get close enough, they immediately stop struggling. In fact, they start obediently chanting "Syr-Rah-Dow". One man, a guy who'd fit in on an NFL Line, knocks the hell out of the three guys bringing him forward. He's almost broken free. About to make a good run for it, but as one the closest members of the mob turn. In seemingly choreographed unison, they dog pile the huge man. Half a dozen big strong men manage to carry him forward. Soon, he too is muttering their mantra.

The sun shines brightly. It gleams off the nearby fountain. The crowd moves like a thing alive, and you note motionless people here and there. Blood stains the ground here and there. Horror smashes into you like a sledgehammer. Those people are dead.

Fresh indecision coils about you. Your heart's beating a mile a minute. The sound of blood pumping in your ears is almost deafening. Ideas swirl through your mind. Every second that passes more and more people approach the shouting woman. You see several uniformed police in their number. With the huge form of City Hall inn the background, their numbers swell.

An approach begins to take shape in your mind. Maybe you can back off to a safe distance. Maybe go in a nearby building with a good view. The Central Library's right there, and you spent enough lonely days in there to know your way around the library. Observe what's going on. More information couldn't be a bad thing, right? Then what? You couldn't even trip that gangbanger without ripping off his foot. Could be dead for all you know. Probably is. You could wade in there and get your dad back. The scope of destruction you can wreak would certainly allow for that, but the thought of hurting so many people, of maybe inadvertently destroying your father? That's unbearable.

In the distance, the sound of an assault rifle rings out. Louder than you'd have thought. A man in black tactical gear and the word SWAT emblazoned on his back is facing down the crowd. He moves the barrel to aim at the center of the crowd- the rapport of a dozen guns sounds out in unison. The SWAT member goes down in a hale of bullets. Another corpse on the ground. One of the flock moves mechanically to grab the gun.

You should move, but you find that you can't. This is all too much for you. These new powers you did absolutely nothing to deserve, your hometown ripping itself apart, and now what looks like a burgeoning mob guided by another empowered person. A part of you wants to move, to get to safety. Another smaller part wants to put this lady down. Play the hero. An overriding voice impels you to seek higher ground and more information before doing anything else.

You do none of these things. Ever since you were a kid, you wondered what you'd do if you had superpowers or a chance to show you could save the world; who didn't, now and then? It'd be way better than being rich or a celebrity. Play Superman and swoop into save Lois Lane. Be loved and respected by the entire world. Every kid has those delusions of grandeur. But now you know: when faced with the opportunity to step up... you choke instead.

Can't move. Existential dread freezes you in place. The world slows down. You're having a hard time breathing. Can't catch your breath. Hyperventilating. Can't get it under control. Going to fall down. You stagger into the wall next to you. Barely, you keep from feinting. Despite the heat, you're suddenly and irrevocably cold. Chills race up and down your spine. You're lucid enough to know what's happening. You're having a full-fledged panic attack. The problems facing you are just beyond your non-existent experience. A potent cocktail of indecision, self-loathing doubt, horror, and adrenaline nails you to the spot.

There you stay for what feels like long minutes. All thoughts of playing the hero are blotted out. You can't do anything. You'll just end up making things worse. Better to have just sat safe and sound. Let the military take care of this. Or maybe there are other empowered people who could face this kind of situation without turning into a complete and utter mess!

Your surroundings lose meaning and texture as you try to regulate. Close your eyes. Close off that sixth sense. You can do that. Put your weight against the wall. Don't fall down. Breathe in and out. Deep breaths. Try to focus on nothing. Isn't that what all the gurus say when they talk about meditation.

You manage to calm down a bit, manage to regain some small amount of control, but then a hand the size of your head grabs hold of your arm in a steel grip. Your eyes snap open. Can't see anything besides a view of red bricks. An instant later, your sixth sense blossoms to life about you. Time slows once again. You know your situation immediately. The Big Guy from earlier has hold of you. A large handgun is stashed in the front of his belt. Two marginally smaller men are a few feet behind him. You know what they aim to do. Drag you over to that bitch on the truck, and try to make you into one of them. That new part of your mind informs you that you may have some sort of defense against her mind control shit. Not that you really want to test that out here and now.

What do you do?
[] Try to fend these guys off without hurting them. Then you can take the bike, and make a run for it. The Library is still close. Going there to scope out the situation is still a good plan.
[] Don't use your powers. You're definitely going to hurt them badly in your current state of mind. Let them take you to the queen bee. Your mental defense should provide you defense until you can escape.
[] Write-in.

 

[Mazrick]

You freeze up. Again. The instant stretches out for a long time. It'd be so easy to toss these guys away. A man screaming in mingled surprise and agony. Blood spurts out in crimson rivulets. Start using your powers here? Maybe hurt even more people. No, can't take the chance. Don't use your powers. It's new to you. The limits and full capabilities of your abilities are unknown. Lash out now, and you're definitely going to hurt them badly. Seems that your abilities key off your state of mind.

Don't resist. Let them take you to the Queen Bee. Can't see her right now, but the roar of the mob is oppressive. Hopefully, your mental defense should provide you defense until you can escape with your father. The alternative- it doesn't bear considering. Still, better than getting more blood on your hands!

As you resolve on a course of action, time speeds back up. Almost like watching a movie on fast forward everything transitions to an incomprehensible speed. You blink. Everything's back to normal. And the massive dark skinned man has a hold of you. His beefy, scarred, hands seem wrought of steel. You hear him muttering 'Syr-Rah-Dow'. All three of them are. No time to think on that, as you're roughly manhandled. You're not a small man, but this massive mountain of a man moves you around with perfunctory ease. He just hauls you over his shoulder like you're an especially unruly child.

Within a minute, you're dragged into the midst of the chanting throng. Can't really see anything but the back of your captor. The chanting swells all around you. It sounds frenzied and fevered. Been years and years since you went to a church. Once upon a time, you'd been dragged kicking and screaming to a girlfriend's church. They'd been fervent in their efforts to bring you into the fold. You'd thought them nuts, but now their devotion seems a pale thing. Here and now, you hear utter and unrepentant worship.

Then you hear it. A moment of pain, confusion, and terror. It passes. Understanding fills the void. A glorious voice, a... divine wave washes over you. Nothing as mundane as words reach your ears. A song wraps itself around you, like the embrace of something otherworldly. Beatific purpose swells in your heart. There's motion. You're standing now. Before you, almost like she's floating above the world of man, is the single most perfect being in existence. The Goddess glances at you. You vibrate in exaltation! A sense of communal connection ties itself to you, to Her, and to those around you. There seems to be something Greater looking out of your eyes, hearing with your ears. Take a step forward. Another. You're going to serve this Goddess. You can do more than the others. Your powers will make Her-

Tsk. Why should I?!

The thought is slow, as if heard from a great distance. Yet, it carries a pure force to it. Something with you refuses to be moved, refuses to give a shit. Clarity crests over you. You stop on the spot. The sense of connection is severed. Your eyes are locked on the mere woman at the center of the crowd. She's dark-skinned and dressed in black slacks with a lilac top. Her features are plain and broad and twisted in confusion. Utterly ordinary. Her eyes lock on you. The crowd around you goes eerily silent. She's speaking, "What are you? I-"

You don't listen as you interest wains. Doesn't matter. Nothing to do with you. If the concrete underfoot was more inviting, you'd just sit down. Don't want to do anything. Nothing matters. A nap sounds good right about now. Well, you could make things easier with your powers. So much easier than just walking around. Maybe just float on up to one of the rooftops. No one would bother you up there.

Still, you don't do anything. That'd take too much effort. Surely, if you just ignore this whole mess, it'll go away.

The moment passes, and you find yourself filled with renewed vigor. Look up. The woman looks at you for a few seconds. Her gaze clouds over. She reels. She staggers, and she tumbles from the truck bed.

Your sixth sense stretches out all around you. The woman at the center of all this madness isn't within the radius of your awareness. The mob has gone quiet. A dangerous stillness reigns. Not sure what to expect. Don't know where your father is. The gazes of the disparate members settle on you. Rage is slowly building in their collective gaze. Don't need superpowers that each and every person around you, the thousands of victims bound by the Siren's song, mean you no good.

They move. Time slows.

What do you do?
[] Escape. Just do what you have to in order to get out of here!
[] Search and rescue. You're not leaving here without dad.
[] Search and stop. Find the Siren and try to knock her out or something.
[] Write-in.

 

[Mazrick]

They move. Time slows. The enraged mob of mind-controlled Texans turns its wrath on you. Somehow, they know you're the reason for their 'Goddess' fall. Staring them down makes your heart race and your palms sweat. They inch forward. So slow. Your senses stretch out. Everything within ten meters is known to you. The big man behind you, the one who carried you here like a sack of potatoes, prepares to lunge. Definitely going to tackle you. A couple others are in the process of raising their firearms.

Slow. The rays of the sun dance over everything. Summer heat bakes this impossible morning. The smell of unwashed and sweating bodies makes you feel like taking a long, long, shower. In the distance, you can hear sirens.

Ever so gently--it's not in your nature to hurt anyone!--you grasp the mountain of muscle across the torso. Toss him back before he can leap forward to tackle you. As he's falling back in slow motion, you pluck the shotgun from the burly man directly ahead of you. Smash it against the ground. Hard. Can't let it hurt anyone else. Give him a gentle push. The next instant sees a heavyset latina disarmed of a pistol. That one you just crush like a napkin. Reach out and keep the mass of people from dog piling you!

Time speeds up. The big man goes flying out of your sphere of awareness with a loud whooshing sound. You gulp audibly. That was much faster than you intended! The pavement shatters as the gun loudly disintegrates upon contact. The screeching of metal fills the air. And twenty-five people are sent sprawling away from you. Too fast. Way too fast.

Can't close your eyes to the carnage you're unleashing. Those outside your sphere are sprinting at you. Someone unloads an assault rifle at you. All too slow. When they enter your domain, you easily stop or redirect all of the would be attackers. Still they come. They're all chanting, screaming Syr-Rah-Doh like its a war cry. Can't try to take Dad and high tail it. Find the 'Siren' and stop her. Might be the only way to stop this madness. Looking at the deranged devotion of these otherwise normal people, it might be the only way to save Dad.

As you jog on legs sore from biking, you know that you're hurting and killing people. Gentle nudges turn into powerful hammer strikes. A light toss sends hostile men and women flying a dozen meters or more. They land bonelessly, and they do not get up. You try to stop momentum... and the results are not pretty. Twisted bodies. Broken bones. Redirected bullets rip into flesh. Makes you want to vomit. Makes you want to do anything else. The temptation to just stop is nearly overwhelming. A grenade is thrown at you. You redirect it as high and as fast as you can. It explodes a three hundred meters overhead. They don't flinch. No screams of agony. No hesitation. They keep on coming. If anything, their ferocity reaches a fever pitch. Don't stop now. Won't stop. Can't stop. You're resolved.

Eventually, you reach the woman. She's regained her feet. Fear shines in her beady eyes. She holds a hand out to forestall you. She speak. That divine song presses down upon you. Stop her. Reach out. Her Will-

You stop her from saying another word. Her windpipe along with her neck crushes sickeningly. You... you just Darth Vader'd someone.

She's dead. You're going to vomit. You do. The acid and bile burns as you heave.

And her mob of worshipers doesn't seem pleased at all. Don't know what you expected. Maybe for them to come back to themselves. Nope. The several thousand strong throng still seem hell-bent on killing you. They scream as they rush towards you. More weapons are brought to bear.

What do you do?
[] Try to get out of here without hurting anyone.
[] Take Dad with you against his will.
[] Write-in.