I'm not an antihero. I'm not an edgy protagonist. I'm not a lukewarm baddie. I don't want to do...
Bad Guy
- Thread starter theimpetus
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World Selection
theimpetus
Fist of the Duplex
- Location
- The Unbekannt
I'm not an antihero. I'm not an edgy protagonist. I'm not a lukewarm baddie. I don't want to do anything necessary to save the world, or my kid, or my lover, or get revenge. Those pussies were just a step down the evolutionary tree that led to me.
I'm the Bad Guy. I'm the villain. I am the ultimate form of Evil (Yes, with the capital E, motherfucker). I will do anything to anyone if it will get me what I want, and I want everything. I want to be Alexander the Great, Ghengis Khan and Adolf Hitler. I want to control as much as I can for as long as I can, no matter the costs other people pay. I want this city, this nation, the world, the fucking Universe. I want it all.
Anyone who's with me will be given heaven on a platter, and anyone who's against me will watch everything they love burned to a crisp in front of them. I'm not playing around. I'm ready! I'm ready to make the world remember my name with a mixture of terror and awe. Books will be written about me. Mothers will tell their children I'll come get them if they aren't good (and maybe I will). People will say my name in vain.
Are you ready for it? Have you felt my coming? Have you shit your pants yet? I'm here, and it's time to get this show on the road.
World
[] Fantasy World: A world filled with Magic, Elves, Dragons, Gods, Gnomes and Orcs awaits my conquest. Sauron, Lannisters and Voldemort move aside. It's my turn in the spotlight.
[] Sci-Fi World: Artificial intelligence, genetic engineering and terraforming will all be essential tools in my galactic domination. From my virtual throne, I will crack the whip from here to the Scutum–Centaurus.
[] Superherovillain World: Superstrength, tinkertech, teleportation? Hah! You all lost the cosmic lottery, and I won. Time to cash my metaphorical check and show you how powerful I am.
I'm the Bad Guy. I'm the villain. I am the ultimate form of Evil (Yes, with the capital E, motherfucker). I will do anything to anyone if it will get me what I want, and I want everything. I want to be Alexander the Great, Ghengis Khan and Adolf Hitler. I want to control as much as I can for as long as I can, no matter the costs other people pay. I want this city, this nation, the world, the fucking Universe. I want it all.
Anyone who's with me will be given heaven on a platter, and anyone who's against me will watch everything they love burned to a crisp in front of them. I'm not playing around. I'm ready! I'm ready to make the world remember my name with a mixture of terror and awe. Books will be written about me. Mothers will tell their children I'll come get them if they aren't good (and maybe I will). People will say my name in vain.
Are you ready for it? Have you felt my coming? Have you shit your pants yet? I'm here, and it's time to get this show on the road.
XXX
I don't know about you, SV, but I've been looking to scratch a villainous itch for a while. I recently posted in this thread about it, and I decided, what the hell, give me my back scratcher and I'll do it myself! Anyways, if the hubristic hyperbole above wasn't enough to clue you in, this quest is going to be about a megalomaniac who wants to set the world aflame and build it back up in his/her image. So without further ado…
World
[] Fantasy World: A world filled with Magic, Elves, Dragons, Gods, Gnomes and Orcs awaits my conquest. Sauron, Lannisters and Voldemort move aside. It's my turn in the spotlight.
[] Sci-Fi World: Artificial intelligence, genetic engineering and terraforming will all be essential tools in my galactic domination. From my virtual throne, I will crack the whip from here to the Scutum–Centaurus.
[] Super
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Character Sheet
theimpetus
Fist of the Duplex
- Location
- The Unbekannt
Current Name: Laura Crabtree
Sex: Female
Says She Is: 28 (Real Age: 36)
Occupation: Private Security Consultant (Side-Gig: Thief)
Power: Fire Seer
-I can see the future in flames. The farther out the prediction, the more inaccurate it is.
-I have minor pyrokinesis at close range. Occasionally, I burst into flames, especially in tense situations. It's pretty annoying. I've also been having these headaches. It's probably unrelated.
-I am immune to heat and being burned. Thankfully, I'm not one of those Ultras who's powers injure or kill them.
Sex: Female
Says She Is: 28 (Real Age: 36)
Occupation: Private Security Consultant (Side-Gig: Thief)
Power: Fire Seer
-I can see the future in flames. The farther out the prediction, the more inaccurate it is.
-I have minor pyrokinesis at close range. Occasionally, I burst into flames, especially in tense situations. It's pretty annoying. I've also been having these headaches. It's probably unrelated.
-I am immune to heat and being burned. Thankfully, I'm not one of those Ultras who's powers injure or kill them.
Former CIA: I know what's happening in the shadows.
Debt: I owe a lot of people a lot of money.
Experimental Subject: A shadowy organization kidnapped and preformed disgusting and excruciating experiments on me. They got theirs when I developed my powers, and murdered every last person in the lab, including the other subjects. (No sense in leaving potential competitors lying around). Of course, who knows what the resources and reach of this group are? Are they government, corporate, religious? The real question is… should I try to find out?
Debt: I owe a lot of people a lot of money.
Experimental Subject: A shadowy organization kidnapped and preformed disgusting and excruciating experiments on me. They got theirs when I developed my powers, and murdered every last person in the lab, including the other subjects. (No sense in leaving potential competitors lying around). Of course, who knows what the resources and reach of this group are? Are they government, corporate, religious? The real question is… should I try to find out?
Fired From the CIA - June 2014
Kidnapped and Experimented On - November 2014
Killed Captors, Burned Down Lab, Relocated to Puritan City, Roofied/Robbed Low Level Drug Dealers - September 2015
Meet Leroy While Staking Out Underground Casino (Decide Robbing it is Suicide), Leroy Loans a Couple Grand - September 2015
Hired as a Security Consultant by Wealthy Client - October 2015
B&E in Middle-Class Suburbs to Get By - October 2015 to April 2016
Robbed Client's Neighbor - April 2016
Accidentally Robbed the Lion - October 2016
Kidnapped and Experimented On - November 2014
Killed Captors, Burned Down Lab, Relocated to Puritan City, Roofied/Robbed Low Level Drug Dealers - September 2015
Meet Leroy While Staking Out Underground Casino (Decide Robbing it is Suicide), Leroy Loans a Couple Grand - September 2015
Hired as a Security Consultant by Wealthy Client - October 2015
B&E in Middle-Class Suburbs to Get By - October 2015 to April 2016
Robbed Client's Neighbor - April 2016
Accidentally Robbed the Lion - October 2016
Genius: I can think circles around these fools.
Charismatic: They'll all just be lining up to die for me.
Bloodthirsty: I like to get my hands dirty.
Lazy: Why do something when I can get someone else to do it for me?
Compulsive Liar: 'Reality' is just a bunch of bullshit. The line between truth and lies is not fuzzy, it's nonexistent.
Physically Weak: I'm not really a physical person.
Charismatic: They'll all just be lining up to die for me.
Bloodthirsty: I like to get my hands dirty.
Lazy: Why do something when I can get someone else to do it for me?
Compulsive Liar: 'Reality' is just a bunch of bullshit. The line between truth and lies is not fuzzy, it's nonexistent.
Physically Weak: I'm not really a physical person.
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The World of Earth Zed
theimpetus
Fist of the Duplex
- Location
- The Unbekannt
Earth Zed - Puritan City, Connecticut
Ultraheroes (Vigilantes):
The Lion: The Lion wears a black spandex suit, with yellow gloves/boots and a Lion mask. He is one of the first Ultraheroes, starting in 2004.
-Power: The Lion is indestructible. The only person who has been able to injure him is Skull. The injuries Skull gives heal extraordinarily quickly, though.
-Tactics: The Lion is fond of using high powered weaponry to kill/injure his opponents, while relying on his power to protect him. Against Skull, he is forced to use non-lethal methods.
Ultravillains:
Skull: Skull wears a black suit that has a skeleton printed on it. He is one of the most powerful villains in the city. He has only been a villain for a couple years.
-Power: His Ultrapower is the ability to transfer any wound to or from himself to or from anyone in his line of sight. He can handle having (what would normally be) several fatal wounds at once, for hours, and barely slow down.
-Tactics and MO: Skull loves to attack crowded places. He can turn a gun or a knife on himself or anyone in his line of sight, and then apply those wounds to anyone in the room. Sometimes he robs a bank. Sometimes he picks a fight with another Ultra, just for fun. Sometimes he goes into a crowded area and attacks innocents for seemingly no reason.
The Lion: The Lion wears a black spandex suit, with yellow gloves/boots and a Lion mask. He is one of the first Ultraheroes, starting in 2004.
-Power: The Lion is indestructible. The only person who has been able to injure him is Skull. The injuries Skull gives heal extraordinarily quickly, though.
-Tactics: The Lion is fond of using high powered weaponry to kill/injure his opponents, while relying on his power to protect him. Against Skull, he is forced to use non-lethal methods.
Ultravillains:
Skull: Skull wears a black suit that has a skeleton printed on it. He is one of the most powerful villains in the city. He has only been a villain for a couple years.
-Power: His Ultrapower is the ability to transfer any wound to or from himself to or from anyone in his line of sight. He can handle having (what would normally be) several fatal wounds at once, for hours, and barely slow down.
-Tactics and MO: Skull loves to attack crowded places. He can turn a gun or a knife on himself or anyone in his line of sight, and then apply those wounds to anyone in the room. Sometimes he robs a bank. Sometimes he picks a fight with another Ultra, just for fun. Sometimes he goes into a crowded area and attacks innocents for seemingly no reason.
Timeline:
1975
- MKUltra, a secret CIA program to enhance operatives' capabilities, is revealed to the public by a congressional investigation.
1982
- Ronald Reagan announces a new program to enhance American soldiers' physical and mental capabilities. It's dubbed Project Ultra by the media, named after the CIA MKUltra program. This ramps up the Cold War arms race, especially in the fledgling biological wing.
1989
- The USSR deploys their own version of the Ultrasoldier, the крайние солдаты (the Krajnie) in the Afghan war.
1990
- The USSR establishes a manned base on Mars.
1992
- NASA and the Soviet Space Program (SKP) announce that they have discovered an anomalous object in the Trojan Asteroids. There is rampant speculation that this is an alien craft.
1993
- The USA establishes a manned base on Mars. Sadly, two months after landing, almost all 80 of the astronauts perished in a tragic accident. The two astronauts who survived were rescued by Soviet cosmonauts, and allowed to stay at the Soviet mars base.
1994
- The Emissary and эмиссар (èmissar) probes enter orbit around the Unidentified Trojan Orbiter (UTO).
1995
- Astronauts and cosmonauts are sent on a joint mission to the Soviet mars base.
1998
- UTO is towed to the mars for study. NASA and the SKP confirm that UTO was the result of intelligent design.
2002
- Astronauts and cosmonauts on mars are infected with some kind of microbe. It is believed to originate from the UTO. Three out of the 163 astronaut/cosmonauts die, and four develop special abilities. All are infected, but besides these seven, show no obvious symptoms.
- One of the astronauts spontaneously teleports to his home in Austin, Texas. The microbe spreads across the US.
2004
- Despite worldwide quarantine procedure, the microbe (called the Virus in the US) spreads to every corner of the globe.
- Approximately 3.78% of the world's population perishes from the Virus. Approximately 2.13% develop Ultrapowers, named after the USA's Ultrasoldiers. The rest of the world is infected, but unaffected.
2016
-Present Day
1975
- MKUltra, a secret CIA program to enhance operatives' capabilities, is revealed to the public by a congressional investigation.
1982
- Ronald Reagan announces a new program to enhance American soldiers' physical and mental capabilities. It's dubbed Project Ultra by the media, named after the CIA MKUltra program. This ramps up the Cold War arms race, especially in the fledgling biological wing.
1989
- The USSR deploys their own version of the Ultrasoldier, the крайние солдаты (the Krajnie) in the Afghan war.
1990
- The USSR establishes a manned base on Mars.
1992
- NASA and the Soviet Space Program (SKP) announce that they have discovered an anomalous object in the Trojan Asteroids. There is rampant speculation that this is an alien craft.
1993
- The USA establishes a manned base on Mars. Sadly, two months after landing, almost all 80 of the astronauts perished in a tragic accident. The two astronauts who survived were rescued by Soviet cosmonauts, and allowed to stay at the Soviet mars base.
1994
- The Emissary and эмиссар (èmissar) probes enter orbit around the Unidentified Trojan Orbiter (UTO).
1995
- Astronauts and cosmonauts are sent on a joint mission to the Soviet mars base.
1998
- UTO is towed to the mars for study. NASA and the SKP confirm that UTO was the result of intelligent design.
2002
- Astronauts and cosmonauts on mars are infected with some kind of microbe. It is believed to originate from the UTO. Three out of the 163 astronaut/cosmonauts die, and four develop special abilities. All are infected, but besides these seven, show no obvious symptoms.
- One of the astronauts spontaneously teleports to his home in Austin, Texas. The microbe spreads across the US.
2004
- Despite worldwide quarantine procedure, the microbe (called the Virus in the US) spreads to every corner of the globe.
- Approximately 3.78% of the world's population perishes from the Virus. Approximately 2.13% develop Ultrapowers, named after the USA's Ultrasoldiers. The rest of the world is infected, but unaffected.
2016
-Present Day
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Character Creation
theimpetus
Fist of the Duplex
- Location
- The Unbekannt
Vote is closed. The winner is:
[X] Superherovillain World: Superstrength, tinkertech, teleportation? Hah! You all lost the cosmic lottery, and I won. Time to cash my metaphorical check and show you how powerful I am.
Ultraherovillain World:
Character Creation will be done by plan voting.
Sex (Select One Option):
[] Male
[] Female
[] ???
How I Obtained My Powers (Select One Option):
[] Experimental Subject: A shadowy organization kidnapped and preformed disgusting and excruciating experiments on me. They got theirs when I developed my powers, and murdered every last person in the lab, including the other subjects. (No sense in leaving potential competitors lying around). Of course, who knows what the resources and reach of this group are? Are they government, corporate, religious? The real question is… should I try to find out?
[] Accident: I fell in a vat of extradimensional exotic matter that was infected with a radioactive alien retrovirus that introduced a new nucleotide in my DNA. I had red skin when I came out, and boy that scared the shit out of me. Can you imagine living life with red skin? Good thing it faded away after a few hours.
[] Traded My Soul: After getting really drunk one night, I was walking down 3rd, when low and behold, a limo pulled up next to me. A handsome man in a suit with red eyes invited me to take a drive with him. He offered me a sweet deal. Ultrapowers for my soul? Just sign in blood here? Hah, that sucker thought he was swindling me! Jokes on him, because in the end, he was probably going to get my soul anyway. So the powers were basically free.
[] No Powers: I don't need ultrapowers. I'll rule the world without them.
(Can pick up to four positive traits instead of three, and you get a free +2 trait points.)
[] Write in
Ultrapower (Select One Option):
[] Possession: I can possess anyone who is within my sight. Once I hop into their body I will possess it for twenty-seven hours. There is no way to return to my original body which will lie comatose until the time is up. It might take a little time to get used to the new proportions.
[] Calamitous Pyrokinesis: I have a barely contained firestorm swirling inside me. All I need to do is let go, and anywhere from the building I'm in to a three block radius is going to be consumed in a fiery hurricane. My body is pretty tough too. It has to be to survive that shit.
[] Dream Invasion: If I touch a sleeping person, I can enter their mind and fight a battle for their thoughts. Everything they experienced that day, their mind is trying to tidy up and seal in the Deep Mind Vault. If I manage to fight my way to the Vault, I can decide how their memories for the day are encoded.
[] No Powers: I don't need ultrapowers. I'll rule the world without them.
(Can pick up to four positive traits instead of three, and you get a free +2 trait points.)
[] Write in
Traits: (Select no more than three positive traits. Your trait score must be greater than or equal to zero. Your trait score starts off at zero and is modified by each trait you select.)
Positive Traits
[] Genius (-2): I can think circles around these fools.
[] Genre-Savvy (-1): I'm very self-aware, maybe too self-aware… (Cannot select Ultra-Savvy.)
[] Sexy (-1): I'll be leaving with your wife, and let me see… that women over there's husband.
[] Experienced (-1): Nobody can prove anything.
[] Rich (-2): I have amassed a fortune over the years through hard work and, uh, out of the box thinking. (Cannot pick Debt.)
[] Former Military (-1): I know how to kill. (Cannot pick Former CIA).
[] Well-connected (-1): I know anybody who's anybody.
[] Krav Maga (-1): I spent some time in Israel learning how to... defend myself.
[] Charismatic (-3): They'll all just be lining up to die for me.
[] Former CIA (-1): I know what's happening in the shadows. (Cannot pick Former Military).
[] Ultra-savvy (-2): I'm an ultranerd. I know everything there is to know about all the heroes and villains around here. (Cannot select Genre-Savvy)
Negative Traits
Greedy: I want it all.
Narcissistic: Aren't I wonderful? Yes. Yes, I am.
Megalomaniac: I deserve it all.
Sorry. Let me rephrase. They're negatives for your budding career in villainy, not the traits you ooze from your very being.
[] Addict (+1): I need to blow off some steam every once and a while. Sue me.
[] Bloodthirsty (+1): I like to get my hands dirty.
[] Impulsive (+1): Planning is boring. I work best on instinct.
[] Lazy (+2): Why do something when I can get someone else to do it for me?
[] Compulsive Liar (+1): 'Reality' is just a bunch of bullshit. The line between truth and lies is not fuzzy, it's nonexistent.
[] Physically Weak (+1): I'm not really a physical person. (Cannot Pick Former Military or Krav Maga)
[] Batshit (+3): Shhh! They are listening! They are everywhere. EVERYWHERE!
[] Debt (+1): I owe a lot of people a lot of money. (Cannot pick Rich.)
[] Temper (+1): I do not react well when things don't go my way.
[] Prison Time (+1): I just got off parole. I'm a known element, and I'm in the system, which means I need to be extra careful.
I reserve the right to veto write ins. Please try to use as much or more detail than I did if you make your own power or power origin.
EDIT: @Hannz Whoops. I forgot to add brackets to the traits... My bad.
[X] Super
Ultra
Character Creation will be done by plan voting.
Sex (Select One Option):
[] Male
[] Female
[] ???
How I Obtained My Powers (Select One Option):
[] Experimental Subject: A shadowy organization kidnapped and preformed disgusting and excruciating experiments on me. They got theirs when I developed my powers, and murdered every last person in the lab, including the other subjects. (No sense in leaving potential competitors lying around). Of course, who knows what the resources and reach of this group are? Are they government, corporate, religious? The real question is… should I try to find out?
[] Accident: I fell in a vat of extradimensional exotic matter that was infected with a radioactive alien retrovirus that introduced a new nucleotide in my DNA. I had red skin when I came out, and boy that scared the shit out of me. Can you imagine living life with red skin? Good thing it faded away after a few hours.
[] Traded My Soul: After getting really drunk one night, I was walking down 3rd, when low and behold, a limo pulled up next to me. A handsome man in a suit with red eyes invited me to take a drive with him. He offered me a sweet deal. Ultrapowers for my soul? Just sign in blood here? Hah, that sucker thought he was swindling me! Jokes on him, because in the end, he was probably going to get my soul anyway. So the powers were basically free.
[] No Powers: I don't need ultrapowers. I'll rule the world without them.
(Can pick up to four positive traits instead of three, and you get a free +2 trait points.)
[] Write in
Ultrapower (Select One Option):
[] Possession: I can possess anyone who is within my sight. Once I hop into their body I will possess it for twenty-seven hours. There is no way to return to my original body which will lie comatose until the time is up. It might take a little time to get used to the new proportions.
[] Calamitous Pyrokinesis: I have a barely contained firestorm swirling inside me. All I need to do is let go, and anywhere from the building I'm in to a three block radius is going to be consumed in a fiery hurricane. My body is pretty tough too. It has to be to survive that shit.
[] Dream Invasion: If I touch a sleeping person, I can enter their mind and fight a battle for their thoughts. Everything they experienced that day, their mind is trying to tidy up and seal in the Deep Mind Vault. If I manage to fight my way to the Vault, I can decide how their memories for the day are encoded.
[] No Powers: I don't need ultrapowers. I'll rule the world without them.
(Can pick up to four positive traits instead of three, and you get a free +2 trait points.)
[] Write in
Traits: (Select no more than three positive traits. Your trait score must be greater than or equal to zero. Your trait score starts off at zero and is modified by each trait you select.)
Positive Traits
[] Genius (-2): I can think circles around these fools.
[] Genre-Savvy (-1): I'm very self-aware, maybe too self-aware… (Cannot select Ultra-Savvy.)
[] Sexy (-1): I'll be leaving with your wife, and let me see… that women over there's husband.
[] Experienced (-1): Nobody can prove anything.
[] Rich (-2): I have amassed a fortune over the years through hard work and, uh, out of the box thinking. (Cannot pick Debt.)
[] Former Military (-1): I know how to kill. (Cannot pick Former CIA).
[] Well-connected (-1): I know anybody who's anybody.
[] Krav Maga (-1): I spent some time in Israel learning how to... defend myself.
[] Charismatic (-3): They'll all just be lining up to die for me.
[] Former CIA (-1): I know what's happening in the shadows. (Cannot pick Former Military).
[] Ultra-savvy (-2): I'm an ultranerd. I know everything there is to know about all the heroes and villains around here. (Cannot select Genre-Savvy)
Negative Traits
Narcissistic: Aren't I wonderful? Yes. Yes, I am.
Megalomaniac: I deserve it all.
Sorry. Let me rephrase. They're negatives for your budding career in villainy, not the traits you ooze from your very being.
[] Addict (+1): I need to blow off some steam every once and a while. Sue me.
[] Bloodthirsty (+1): I like to get my hands dirty.
[] Impulsive (+1): Planning is boring. I work best on instinct.
[] Lazy (+2): Why do something when I can get someone else to do it for me?
[] Compulsive Liar (+1): 'Reality' is just a bunch of bullshit. The line between truth and lies is not fuzzy, it's nonexistent.
[] Physically Weak (+1): I'm not really a physical person. (Cannot Pick Former Military or Krav Maga)
[] Batshit (+3): Shhh! They are listening! They are everywhere. EVERYWHERE!
[] Debt (+1): I owe a lot of people a lot of money. (Cannot pick Rich.)
[] Temper (+1): I do not react well when things don't go my way.
[] Prison Time (+1): I just got off parole. I'm a known element, and I'm in the system, which means I need to be extra careful.
I reserve the right to veto write ins. Please try to use as much or more detail than I did if you make your own power or power origin.
EDIT: @Hannz Whoops. I forgot to add brackets to the traits... My bad.
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Chapter 1: Where's My Money?
theimpetus
Fist of the Duplex
- Location
- The Unbekannt
Chapter 1: Where's My Money?
A/N: The world-building page has been updated, and the character page has been added to the second post. Beware of spoilers. I welcome any constructive criticism/advice on writing or running a quest. Don't be polite. I have a thick skin.
I stepped out of my apartment building into the alley, and fished around in my pocket for my smokes and lighter. After a thirty seconds of cursing, I managed to detangle the pack from the papers I'd shoved in there. I slipped two out, and walked over to the dumpster down the alley. I kicked (probably harder than I needed to, heh) the bum sleeping beside the trash.
"Whuh? Mhhum…" The bum sat up. I handed him a smoke.
I sparked the lighter, but something in the flame caught my attention. The fire flickered into the shape of woman. She was falling over. Suddenly, I felt someone push me. I fell to ground. Thankfully, my face was kind enough to take the brunt of it. I felt someone grab my hair, and I was pulled to my knees. I started reaching for my pistol, but my arm was pulled into an uncomfortable angle and held there by a strong grip.
"Nope. You go for a weapon again, and my friend will slam your face back into the ground, hard. Maybe hard enough that you won't be getting back up," a voice from behind me said. He let go of my arm.
The guy holding my hair, goon number one, twisted my head, so I was looking up at him. "Leroy says, 'Hi.'"
"Shit... Look, I have a job coming up in a couple days. I'll be able to pay him, but I need my limbs unbroken to get it done," I said.
He pulled me up to a standing position by my hair, and shoved me face first against the wall of my building. My face stung like a bitch from the fall. God, I just wanted to melt the mother fucker's hand off. I wanted to hear the delicious screech of someone feeling their skin literally bubble and slough off, but that would have been unwise. I lived here. Don't shit where you eat and all that, but I half hoped I accidentally combusted and burned him, so I'd have to have finish the job.
"I'm sick of your bullshit, Laura. You've told me you have a job coming up every fucking time I see you." He pushed me harder into the wall. "I'm thinking we ought to show you that we're fucking serious."
"No, no. I get you're serious. I do have a job coming up, I swear. In my right pocket. Check my right pocket." I felt him shove his hand into my pocket and pull out the wad of papers.
He let go of my hair, and I heard the rustle of him looking through my notes. I turned around to face him, and goon number two, his backup, who stood behind with his tattooed and muscled arms crossed. Goon number one was reading the notes with a scowl on his face. He looked up at me. "Five grand. Friday. If you don't come through, I'm gonna fuck up your face permanently next time." He threw the papers on the ground, and walked off. Goon number two gave me a glare and the followed his buddy.
I reached up and felt my scraped up face. Shit. I reached down and grabbed my notes, shoving them back in my pocket. I looked over at the dumpster. "Thanks for the help, Jeremy. I can see why you live in a fucking alley, you coward."
"Thanks for the cigarette, Laura. Good luck," I heard him mumble from behind the dumpster.
"Yeah. Three days to find five grand. I'm gonna need some luck." I sighed and looked to see where my smokes had dropped.
I needed the money, though. Even if I decided not to pay Leroy that five grand, I had to pay rent and eat. My 'real job' just didn't cut it, and the money from the last robbery was nearly evaporated. It was expensive living in Puritan City, even worse than D.C. had been.
I shrugged off my bag, and pulled out a rag, tape, my needle and zip ties. I injected him with a second dose, just in case. It wouldn't kill him, probably. I zip tied his hands and feet together. I shoved the rag into his mouth, and rapped the tape around his eyes and gagged mouth, making it nice and tight.
I slipped out the station, and made my way by the fountains, statues of half-naked women, beautiful landscaping with a variety of flowers, trees and hedges trimmed into the female shape. They were all starting to die now that fall was setting in, but it was still beautiful.
Yeah, hopefully this guy ended up hiring me, like the last mark. (If you tell your neighbor, 'Hey, I got robbed.' He'll recommend that Security Consultant he knows). If he did, I'd have to ask which landscaping company he used. It'd be good to know for whenever I got my own manor.
Eventually, I made my way to the back door. One of them anyways, this place was fucking ginormous. I dropped my bag and took a knee. I clicked my headlight on, and I pulled out the liquid nitrogen can, chisel and hammer from my back. I sprayed the lock with the nitrogen, watching frost form across the surface. I put the can back in my bag. I took the chisel, resting the narrow end against the lock and then tapped the chisel with the hammer once, twice, three times the charm. The lock shattered into a bunch of pieces, falling all over the ground.
I shoved the door open, and was met with the ringing of the alarm. I quickly stood and moved down the hall. I slid up to the alarm system key pad, and punched in the code. A robotic woman's voice came from the speaker by the number pad. "Welcome home, Mr. Turner."
"Thanks, babe, but 'Mr. Turner' is out of town." I responded. "Tonight, this place is mine."
"Oh. Shit. Shit fuck bitch motherfucker." I'm so royally fucked. I stood in the basement, behind five hidden doors. Boy, had that been a fun puzzle. I expected to find either some kind of sex dungeon or some really valuable shit. Nope.
I'd found a few costumed mannequins and a military grade armory. It was one huge, featureless, concrete room with racks and racks of guns, crates of ammo and explosives, and not just any costumes, three sets of an Ultrahero costume. Not just any Ultrahero, either. It was The Lion's costume. It was a black spandex suit, yellow gloves/boots and a Lion mask. Of course I stumbled onto one of the goddamned most fucking powerful Ultras in the city. He was one of the first Ultras to put on a mask and take the law into his own hands, back when Puritan City had been policed by the military, and there was a shoot on sight order for any unregistered Ultra.
Of course, The Lion could take machine gun fire to the face and shrug it off with a laugh. Fuckshit. Of all the goddamned houses I could have robbed, it had to be his. Jesus, he needed to hire me. His security was awful. I massaged my forehead a little. This was giving me a headache.
What Now? (Select One Option):
[] [Now?] Get the hell out of dodge. Lock the hidden doors behind you, and stash the stuff you already stole (his wife's jewelry, the painting and a few hundred in cash) at your client's house, next door.
[] [Now?] Re-lock the hidden doors and leave the armory untouched, but continue to rob the house. He doesn't need to know the thief uncovered his identity. Then stash the stuff.
[] [Now?] Screw it. You already started, you might as well finish. If this is his lair, he probably has some valuable and potentially useful gear. Then stash the stuff.
- [] [Now?] Leave the symbol of his nemesis, Skull, on the wall. He'll be too scared at the idea that his enemy figured out his secret identity to actually figure out the truth.
- [] [Now?] Just leave after you're done.
[] [Now?] Write in
Leroy: You see Leroy in the flames. He is on the ground, curled in a ball. He is kneeling. He is smirking. He is frowning.
The Loan Shark (Select One Option):
You owe Leroy ten grand now. He want's half of it the day after tomorrow. What do you do about it?
[] [Shark] Kill him, and those goons he keeps sending after you. The dead don't collect debts.
[] [Shark] Sell the shit you stole, and pay him as much as you can. You'll find some other way to get the rent, and food.
[] [Shark] Sell the shit you stole, and pay him some of what you got. Tell him it's all you have.
- [] [Shark] Offer to do a job for him in the meantime.
- [] [Shark] Ask him for a bit more time. You'll get him the rest.
[] [Shark] Write In
D.C.: You see... a brain connected to a webbing of intricate machinery.
Investigate (Select One Option):
After you deal with Leroy, maybe you should take a trip back to DC and talk to some old friends. You can't straight up ask them about your kidnapping, of course, but you can fish for info. If you decide to go, who should you look up first?
[] [Investigate] It's time to look into the people that kidnapped you, and gave you these powers.
- [] [Investigate] Talk to your old buddy, Derrick, at the agency. He's a finance guy, and a project like this costs money. If the CIA is the one behind this, he'll know something useful, but he might not want to tell you…
- [] [Investigate] Talk to Morgan, an agency subcontractor who does the things agents can't. If it was government, he'll probably be involved or know someone who is. If it's corporate, he might know too. If he's in on it, though...
- [] [Investigate] Talk to Rita, your best friend from when you worked at the agency. You can't really trust anybody, but you can trust her the most. Who knows if she has any info, but it's worth a shot.
[] [Investigate] Don't make contact with anybody. You relocated here from D.C., and created this identity for a reason. You'll find some other way to look into it.
[] [Investigate] Don't look into it. Leave that shit in the past.
EDIT: A/N 2: I added in flame readings before each decision. The way this works will likely change next chapter.
A/N: The world-building page has been updated, and the character page has been added to the second post. Beware of spoilers. I welcome any constructive criticism/advice on writing or running a quest. Don't be polite. I have a thick skin.
I stepped out of my apartment building into the alley, and fished around in my pocket for my smokes and lighter. After a thirty seconds of cursing, I managed to detangle the pack from the papers I'd shoved in there. I slipped two out, and walked over to the dumpster down the alley. I kicked (probably harder than I needed to, heh) the bum sleeping beside the trash.
"Whuh? Mhhum…" The bum sat up. I handed him a smoke.
I sparked the lighter, but something in the flame caught my attention. The fire flickered into the shape of woman. She was falling over. Suddenly, I felt someone push me. I fell to ground. Thankfully, my face was kind enough to take the brunt of it. I felt someone grab my hair, and I was pulled to my knees. I started reaching for my pistol, but my arm was pulled into an uncomfortable angle and held there by a strong grip.
"Nope. You go for a weapon again, and my friend will slam your face back into the ground, hard. Maybe hard enough that you won't be getting back up," a voice from behind me said. He let go of my arm.
The guy holding my hair, goon number one, twisted my head, so I was looking up at him. "Leroy says, 'Hi.'"
"Shit... Look, I have a job coming up in a couple days. I'll be able to pay him, but I need my limbs unbroken to get it done," I said.
He pulled me up to a standing position by my hair, and shoved me face first against the wall of my building. My face stung like a bitch from the fall. God, I just wanted to melt the mother fucker's hand off. I wanted to hear the delicious screech of someone feeling their skin literally bubble and slough off, but that would have been unwise. I lived here. Don't shit where you eat and all that, but I half hoped I accidentally combusted and burned him, so I'd have to have finish the job.
"I'm sick of your bullshit, Laura. You've told me you have a job coming up every fucking time I see you." He pushed me harder into the wall. "I'm thinking we ought to show you that we're fucking serious."
"No, no. I get you're serious. I do have a job coming up, I swear. In my right pocket. Check my right pocket." I felt him shove his hand into my pocket and pull out the wad of papers.
He let go of my hair, and I heard the rustle of him looking through my notes. I turned around to face him, and goon number two, his backup, who stood behind with his tattooed and muscled arms crossed. Goon number one was reading the notes with a scowl on his face. He looked up at me. "Five grand. Friday. If you don't come through, I'm gonna fuck up your face permanently next time." He threw the papers on the ground, and walked off. Goon number two gave me a glare and the followed his buddy.
I reached up and felt my scraped up face. Shit. I reached down and grabbed my notes, shoving them back in my pocket. I looked over at the dumpster. "Thanks for the help, Jeremy. I can see why you live in a fucking alley, you coward."
"Thanks for the cigarette, Laura. Good luck," I heard him mumble from behind the dumpster.
"Yeah. Three days to find five grand. I'm gonna need some luck." I sighed and looked to see where my smokes had dropped.
XXX
God, this was a bad idea. The last time I'd done this, I'd canvassed the place for six months, and I'd stopped working as a Security Consultant for the mark's neighbor four months before the job. I only had a month canvassing this place, and I was still helping the guy next door improve his security.
I needed the money, though. Even if I decided not to pay Leroy that five grand, I had to pay rent and eat. My 'real job' just didn't cut it, and the money from the last robbery was nearly evaporated. It was expensive living in Puritan City, even worse than D.C. had been.
I stepped into the guard post. The guard was unconscious, lying in a pool of coffee… I sniffed, yep, and his own piss. Good thing he was so punctual about his caffeine consumption. It made drugging him a lot easier. I checked the camera feed. All black. Good.I shrugged off my bag, and pulled out a rag, tape, my needle and zip ties. I injected him with a second dose, just in case. It wouldn't kill him, probably. I zip tied his hands and feet together. I shoved the rag into his mouth, and rapped the tape around his eyes and gagged mouth, making it nice and tight.
I slipped out the station, and made my way by the fountains, statues of half-naked women, beautiful landscaping with a variety of flowers, trees and hedges trimmed into the female shape. They were all starting to die now that fall was setting in, but it was still beautiful.
Yeah, hopefully this guy ended up hiring me, like the last mark. (If you tell your neighbor, 'Hey, I got robbed.' He'll recommend that Security Consultant he knows). If he did, I'd have to ask which landscaping company he used. It'd be good to know for whenever I got my own manor.
Eventually, I made my way to the back door. One of them anyways, this place was fucking ginormous. I dropped my bag and took a knee. I clicked my headlight on, and I pulled out the liquid nitrogen can, chisel and hammer from my back. I sprayed the lock with the nitrogen, watching frost form across the surface. I put the can back in my bag. I took the chisel, resting the narrow end against the lock and then tapped the chisel with the hammer once, twice, three times the charm. The lock shattered into a bunch of pieces, falling all over the ground.
I shoved the door open, and was met with the ringing of the alarm. I quickly stood and moved down the hall. I slid up to the alarm system key pad, and punched in the code. A robotic woman's voice came from the speaker by the number pad. "Welcome home, Mr. Turner."
"Thanks, babe, but 'Mr. Turner' is out of town." I responded. "Tonight, this place is mine."
XXX
"Oh. Shit. Shit fuck bitch motherfucker." I'm so royally fucked. I stood in the basement, behind five hidden doors. Boy, had that been a fun puzzle. I expected to find either some kind of sex dungeon or some really valuable shit. Nope.
I'd found a few costumed mannequins and a military grade armory. It was one huge, featureless, concrete room with racks and racks of guns, crates of ammo and explosives, and not just any costumes, three sets of an Ultrahero costume. Not just any Ultrahero, either. It was The Lion's costume. It was a black spandex suit, yellow gloves/boots and a Lion mask. Of course I stumbled onto one of the goddamned most fucking powerful Ultras in the city. He was one of the first Ultras to put on a mask and take the law into his own hands, back when Puritan City had been policed by the military, and there was a shoot on sight order for any unregistered Ultra.
Of course, The Lion could take machine gun fire to the face and shrug it off with a laugh. Fuckshit. Of all the goddamned houses I could have robbed, it had to be his. Jesus, he needed to hire me. His security was awful. I massaged my forehead a little. This was giving me a headache.
XXX
The Lion: You look into your lighter, thinking hard about The Lion. You see a large man (about The Lion's proportions), lying on his back, laughing. He's holding a drink.What Now? (Select One Option):
[] [Now?] Get the hell out of dodge. Lock the hidden doors behind you, and stash the stuff you already stole (his wife's jewelry, the painting and a few hundred in cash) at your client's house, next door.
[] [Now?] Re-lock the hidden doors and leave the armory untouched, but continue to rob the house. He doesn't need to know the thief uncovered his identity. Then stash the stuff.
[] [Now?] Screw it. You already started, you might as well finish. If this is his lair, he probably has some valuable and potentially useful gear. Then stash the stuff.
- [] [Now?] Leave the symbol of his nemesis, Skull, on the wall. He'll be too scared at the idea that his enemy figured out his secret identity to actually figure out the truth.
- [] [Now?] Just leave after you're done.
[] [Now?] Write in
Leroy: You see Leroy in the flames. He is on the ground, curled in a ball. He is kneeling. He is smirking. He is frowning.
The Loan Shark (Select One Option):
You owe Leroy ten grand now. He want's half of it the day after tomorrow. What do you do about it?
[] [Shark] Kill him, and those goons he keeps sending after you. The dead don't collect debts.
[] [Shark] Sell the shit you stole, and pay him as much as you can. You'll find some other way to get the rent, and food.
[] [Shark] Sell the shit you stole, and pay him some of what you got. Tell him it's all you have.
- [] [Shark] Offer to do a job for him in the meantime.
- [] [Shark] Ask him for a bit more time. You'll get him the rest.
[] [Shark] Write In
D.C.: You see... a brain connected to a webbing of intricate machinery.
Investigate (Select One Option):
After you deal with Leroy, maybe you should take a trip back to DC and talk to some old friends. You can't straight up ask them about your kidnapping, of course, but you can fish for info. If you decide to go, who should you look up first?
[] [Investigate] It's time to look into the people that kidnapped you, and gave you these powers.
- [] [Investigate] Talk to your old buddy, Derrick, at the agency. He's a finance guy, and a project like this costs money. If the CIA is the one behind this, he'll know something useful, but he might not want to tell you…
- [] [Investigate] Talk to Morgan, an agency subcontractor who does the things agents can't. If it was government, he'll probably be involved or know someone who is. If it's corporate, he might know too. If he's in on it, though...
- [] [Investigate] Talk to Rita, your best friend from when you worked at the agency. You can't really trust anybody, but you can trust her the most. Who knows if she has any info, but it's worth a shot.
[] [Investigate] Don't make contact with anybody. You relocated here from D.C., and created this identity for a reason. You'll find some other way to look into it.
[] [Investigate] Don't look into it. Leave that shit in the past.
EDIT: A/N 2: I added in flame readings before each decision. The way this works will likely change next chapter.
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Omake 1: I Try to Be Funny, and Sometimes... I'm Not
theimpetus
Fist of the Duplex
- Location
- The Unbekannt
The jeweler held up the ring, pointing at a mark on the inside. "See this? This means it's a Lechenbahls piece. They use lasers to put identification marks in their stones. Remember, I showed you the same thing on a couple of the pieces you brought in last time."
I leaned in closer to him, across the counter. "Yes, but that was just a couple pieces! You're trying to tell me 90% of this shit is worthless? You think I don't know a con when I see one?"
"I'm not conning you. That would be short sided. I'm sure we will be making plenty of money together in the future. Especially if you check for this mark before you bring it to me. Anyways, I don't even want them at a reduced price. I don't want them at all." He sighed. "The kind of person who can afford Lechenbahls run in very small circles, and if they ran into the original owner, they'd just have to take it Lechenbahls to confirm it was theirs. Boom, I'm in prison. Too risky."
"Then sell it to someone who doesn't run in those circles," I responded.
"And if they discover what it actually is and how much it's worth? What will they think? If they don't sell it themselves, which would lead to the same problem, they alert the authorities. I could sell it to a jeweler out of the country, where no customer would recognize it, but he'll know what they are and use that as leverage to screw me."
"Argh. Jesus fucking Christ. Then what will you give me for the others?"
He studied the bunch. "Three and a half."
"Three and a half grand?," I asked incredulously.
"No. Three and a half dollars."
I pulled out my pistol.
EDIT: Changed to match the actual chapter.
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Chapter 2: There's My Money
theimpetus
Fist of the Duplex
- Location
- The Unbekannt
Chapter 2: There's My Money
The jeweler held up the ring, pointing at a mark on the inside. "See this? This means it's a Graff piece. They use lasers to put identification marks in their stones. Remember, I showed you the same thing on a couple of the pieces you brought in last time."
I leaned in closer to him, across the counter. "Yes, but that was just a couple pieces! You're trying to tell me 90% of this shit is worthless? You think I don't know a con when I see one?"
"I'm not conning you. That would be short sided. I'm sure we will be making plenty of money together in the future. Especially if you check for this mark before you bring it to me. Anyways, I don't even want them at a reduced price. I don't want them at all." He sighed. "The kind of person who can afford Graffs run in very small circles, and if they ran into the original owner, they'd just have to take it to Graff confirm it was theirs. Boom, I'm in prison. Too risky."
"Then sell it to someone who doesn't run in those circles," I responded.
"And if they discover what it actually is and how much it's worth? What will they think? If they don't sell it themselves, which would lead to the same problem, they alert the authorities. I could sell it to a jeweler out of the country, where no customer would recognize it, but he'll know what they are and use that as leverage to screw me."
"Argh. Jesus fucking Christ. Then what will you give me for the others?"
He studied the bunch. "Three and a half."
"Make it five," I shot back.
"I don't bargain; it's a waste of time. I told you this last time, and I don't like to repeat myself. It's a fair price. Take it or leave it."
I pulled out my phone. "Fine, but I'm talking pictures of this shit, and talking to my guy out of town. If he says you swindled me, I'm burning this fucking place to the ground. With you in it." I snapped a few shots of all the pieces without the mark he'd shown me, and shoved my phone back in my pocket.
His face scrunched up in irritation. "I do not like being threatened."
"Nobody does, man. If it's a 'fair price,' you have nothing to worry about."
He collected the jewelry, and walked into the back to get the money. I waited and thought about Leroy. He wanted to be paid tomorrow.
The 3500 bucks combined with what I got for the painting and all the other miscellaneous stuff (prescription drugs, silverware, gold fixtures, electronics that likely didn't have GPS, clothes, etc) left me with about ten grand. Not much compared to what I'd made last time. I could pay my whole debt off, but that would leave me with nothing. I could pay Leroy the five I owed him, but five grand would only last me a couple months, and meanwhile my debt would keep ticking up.
My arms dealer in D.C. would probably give me a whole lot for what had been in that armory… but no. Not worth tangling with the Lion, and not to mention I had no smart way of moving tons of weapons and explosives. Why'd it have to be his house? Anyone else, I would have broken into their safe and made out with way waaay more even with this bullshit jewelry thing, but chances are the Lion wouldn't mind rigging his safe with some kind of lethal trap. Heat from an explosion couldn't kill me, but the concussive force could.
Shit. It'd take me awhile to line up another job, and fuck if I was going to go back to robbing drug dealers, smalltime B&E and living in a motel. Perhaps it was time I started considering the option that had been in the back of my mind ever since he stopped trying to get into my pants, and sent those muscleheads to collect from me. Maybe it was time for Leroy to stop bothering me, permanently.
I smiled.
I parked the boosted white van down a couple blocks down from Leroy's pad, my knee bobbing up and down in a mix of nervousness and anticipation. It would have been nice to do this under the cover of darkness, but Leroy spent a lot of his nights in that underground casino (with no discernable schedule), and since it was rush hour, the police and firemen response time would be even more delayed than it was in Rosemary. I moved to the back of the van, and grabbed the metal can of gasoline with holes drilled in the top and sides, ignoring the others which were connected with gas soaked rags. I hoped my power didn't decide that it would be a good time to spontaneously combust.
I set the can in the passenger's seat, making sure it didn't tip over because of its rounded bottom and threw the big ass rock next to it. I slipped the flare into my pocket. There wasn't a whole lot of gas in the hole filled can, but if I filled it too full it'd be too heavy for me to throw. Man, I needed to get back in shape.
I slipped back into the driver's seat, and put the van in drive. Time to get started. I could feel that tight feeling in my chest, the one I always had before an operation. God, this was going to be fun. I pulled onto the road, moving fast. I drove through a couple of blocks filled with brick, box houses, and reached Leroy's block. His house was on the left at the corner. I slowed down as I approached it. When I was in front of the house right before his, I turned sharply, and crossed the street, driving through the neighbor's yard. I pulled the van parallel to the front of Leroy's house, and drove the van so close that the driver's side mirror broke off and the side of the van scraped against the bricks.
Once the van was blocking the door and one of the windows, I put into park, pulled the emergency break, and grabbed the keys. I quickly crawled into the passenger's side, carefully avoiding the gas can and rock, and opened the door.
I jumped out into Leroy's lawn. I grabbed the rock and swung it as hard as I could into the window that wasn't blocked by the van, the only exit. It was one of those old windows with no screen, just a pane of glass. I heard the rock shatter the glass, as I grabbed the gas can. I could hear yelling inside the house. I swung the can, just like the rock, and it crashed through the broken window. The rounded bottom would ensure it fell on its side, spilling out gasoline through the holes in the top and side. I waited a moment for it to spill across the floor before I lit the flare and threw it into the window. I was rewarded with a rush of heat, and the sound of a man screaming. I laughed. I knew that noise well.
I slipped my beretta out, and moved quickly, but quietly down the side of the brick house, ready to fire. The guard who stood out back rounded the corner, drawn by the noise. I put a bullet in his head. I moved down the side of the house, past his corpse. I put my back to the edge of the house, and lifted my gun, quickly turning the corner. I scanned the back, making sure someone hadn't joined him earlier. No. It was empty. I put my beretta back into the holster and rand down the alleyway.
Once I reached the shed in the backyard of the abandoned house, I looked both ways down the alley, confirming there was no one around. I pushed the back door to the shed open and stepped in. I moved to the middle of the empty shed, stripping off my pants, shirt and mask, but leaving my gloves on. I tossed them the center of the concrete floor. I cleared the chamber, removed the clip from the beretta. I threw the gun onto the pile of clothes. I removed the mini canister of lighter fluid and my zippo from my pants pocket. I soaked the clothes in the fluid, and then opened the front door of the shed. Then I tossed my gloves and the gas can into the pile, lit the lighter and threw it onto the clothes, igniting them.
Clad in my jogging shorts and a tank top, I jogged out through the yard of the abandoned house and onto the sidewalk. I started jogging around the block. Hopefully by the time I circled back to Leroy's there'd be a crowd drawn by the fire, and I'd be able to watch the firemen bring out eleven burnt corpses.
XXX
The diner was nearly empty, just a few patrons. It wasn't an ideal place for discussing possible illegal operations by the agency, but it had been Derrick's favorite. We'd eaten here a bunch of times, and I needed him as nostalgic and amiable as I could get him. Fortunately, our usual booth in the south-east corner, by the side door had been open. The waitress came and set down my coffee. "Your food will be ready in just a few moments," she said in that false friendly voice all servers use. I nodded, and picked up my cup to take a sip. Ahh… It was scalding hot, precisely as I liked it.
As I set my cup down, and I noticed Derrick enter. Same bleach blonde hair, and grey jacket. I checked my phone. 8:30pm. Derrick walked over, and I stood. I opened my arms and gave him a hug. Like I said. I needed him amiable. "Punctual, as always," I said with a smile.
"It's good to see you, Laiyla. How have you been?" He asked as we sat down.
"Oh you know, ups and downs. Been pretty busy lately," I answered.
"Yeah? What are you doing now?"
"This and that. Security Consulting, investigation, some odd jobs here and there. Nothing fancy, but it puts bread on the table. You still doing the same thing?" I took another sip of my coffee.
"Yeah. Been pretty boring without you running around, of course." He smiled.
"Stop it, you dirty flatterer."
The waitress came by, arms loaded with those oval shaped plates. "Chicken fried steak with extra gravy?"
I pointed at Derrick and said, "That would be him." She set his plate down.
"And here's your hot cakes. Let me know if guys need anything else." She set a glorious plate of steaming pancakes before me. Thank god.
"Nah. I quit."
I shrugged and sparked my lighter. The flame twisted into the shape of Derrick, lying on the ground. He was panicked, his mouth moving rapidly. Then the image vanished and I lit my cigarette. Interesting. Was that something that would happen between us, or someone else? I turned to look at him, taking a drag. Strangely, he looked nervous. He hadn't seen it too, had he? No one else had ever been able to.
"Something wrong?" I asked him.
The expression was wiped from his face. "No, no. I'm fine." He pointed at my smoke. "Actually, you know what, I will take one of those."
"Thought you said you quit?"
"Well, you know, one won't hurt. I can quit again tomorrow." He gave me a fake smile, and I knew something was wrong. Derrick was an open book. He didn't school his expressions and fake expressions.
I slipped one out and handed it and my lighter to him. He took them. When he sparked the lighter, the flame shifted again. There was a brain surrounded by a tangle of wiring and a metal frame. It looked like someone had stuffed the inside of a computer inside their skull. It was exactly what I saw before I decided to come to D.C. looking for answers.
Derrick took a deep drag. "What did you say you came back to the city for again?"
"I didn't." I decided to be direct. That worked best with him. "What's wrong Derrick? You look like someone told you your puppy's dead."
He shifted uncomfortably. "I figured out why you're here. You're pretty bad at hiding it. I know we aren't supposed to talk about it though, so let's just drop it."
I stepped closer to him. "I'm pretty sure you're wrong, so why don't you just tell me what you think you know."
He backed up a little, stepping up against the wall. "Your eyes. You need to be more careful about showing people that shit. You could get into a lot of trouble. Look, I get it. You 'left,' the agency," He said, making air quotes with his fingers on the word 'left.' "Let's just leave it alone. You want to get a drink or something?"
I stepped even closer to him. With his back against the wall, he had nowhere to back up to. "I didn't leave the agency. I was fucking fired, by that prick, Asselman. And what about my eyes?"
"Right. You were fired. And nothing. It must have been a trick of the light. I shouldn't have said anything. Let's just grab a drink and forget this whole conversation."
I grabbed his jacket. "Stop lying. It doesn't suit you. Spit it out, now."
He squirmed in my grasp, and sighed. "Okay, okay. Your eyes turned red when you looked at the lighter. There. I know you're in the MKUltra reboot."
I was silent, just looking at him. Did I have my answer? The CIA had rebooted the infamous MKUltra program. The old version had unwilling, unaware participants hadn't it? Who better to start with than operatives that left the agency in disgrace? Kill two birds with one stone. Get rid of potential problems and get disposable subjects to experiment on.
Perhaps I should drop it for now, and get that drink with him. If he thought I was an agent assigned to the program he probably wouldn't mind telling me what he knew.
At the same time… That vision I'd had of him on the ground… If it wasn't me he was cowering from, then who was it? If the agency was looking for me after I escaped, my friends at Langley would be a useful resource. I'd figured the agency would have stopped tailing them by now, but maybe they'd been interviewed. Maybe they'd been told to report any contact with me.
He probably hadn't told anyone about meeting me. The bugs I'd put in his phone and house let me know that, but maybe this little interaction here was enough to push him to tell someone.
Investigate (Select One Option)
[] [Investigate] Following the money trail was never your forte, but no better time to start than now. Take Derrick to get that drink, and see what you can find out.
[] [Investigate] Derrick won't know anything of use. You need names and addresses. Time to hit up some other contacts.
- [] [Investigate] Pick up Morgan, an agency subcontractor who does the things agents can't. If it was the agency, he'll probably be involved or know someone who is. If the new CIA Ultra program is not behind this (unlikely, but possible), he might know who it actually is. You should probably hit up your arms dealer first; Morgan's no joke.
- [] [Investigate] Drop in on Rita, your best friend from when you worked at the agency. You can't really trust anybody, but you can trust her the most. It's unlikely, but she might be part of the MKUltra 2.0 project. You'll have to be careful.
[] [Investigate] It's time to head back to Puritan City. It seems likely the agency is behind this, and being here is dangerous. You can look deeper into it later or some way that doesn't require you being in D.C.
[] [Investigate] Write In
And What to Do With Derrick? (Select One Option)
[] [Derrick] One person knowing you're an Ultra is one too many. Take him somewhere convenient and dispose of him and any evidence.
[] [Derrick] He knows you're an Ultra so you might as well give him a little demonstration of what will happen to him if he tells anyone. Hopefully he stays quiet.
[] [Derrick] Tell him that, hypothetically, if you were to be in the MKUltra 2.0, even his superiors are too low clearance to know about it. He's to tell no one. Hopefully he stays quiet.
[] [Derrick] Write in
Fire Reading (Write In As Many as You Like)
[] [Fire] You look into the fire, and concentrate on...
-[] [Fire] Write in
I reserve the right to veto write ins.
EDIT: Whoops. Almost forgot. Laura will do a fire reading on anything that gets at least three votes in the next 12 hours. The more votes it gets, the harder she'll try. When you make up a reading, be sure to roll a 1d100 (that will be modified by me depending on stuff...) You can wait to vote on other stuff until you get your reading. Or not.
Winning Votes:
[X] [Now?] Re-lock the hidden doors and leave the armory untouched, but continue to rob the house. He doesn't need to know the thief uncovered his identity. Then stash the stuff.
[X] [Shark] Kill him, and those goons he keeps sending after you. The dead don't collect debts.
[X] [Investigate] It's time to look into the people that kidnapped you, and gave you these powers.
- [X] [Investigate] Talk to your old buddy, Derrick, at the agency. He's a finance guy, and a project like this costs money. If the CIA is the one behind this, he'll know something useful, but he might not want to tell you…
[X] [Now?] Re-lock the hidden doors and leave the armory untouched, but continue to rob the house. He doesn't need to know the thief uncovered his identity. Then stash the stuff.
[X] [Shark] Kill him, and those goons he keeps sending after you. The dead don't collect debts.
[X] [Investigate] It's time to look into the people that kidnapped you, and gave you these powers.
- [X] [Investigate] Talk to your old buddy, Derrick, at the agency. He's a finance guy, and a project like this costs money. If the CIA is the one behind this, he'll know something useful, but he might not want to tell you…
Rolls:
1d100 - 10 - What's the Haul?
1d10 - 1 - Leroy's Protection
1d4 - 4 - Derrick's Helpfulness
1d2 - 2 - ???
1d100 - 10 - What's the Haul?
1d10 - 1 - Leroy's Protection
1d4 - 4 - Derrick's Helpfulness
1d2 - 2 - ???
The jeweler held up the ring, pointing at a mark on the inside. "See this? This means it's a Graff piece. They use lasers to put identification marks in their stones. Remember, I showed you the same thing on a couple of the pieces you brought in last time."
I leaned in closer to him, across the counter. "Yes, but that was just a couple pieces! You're trying to tell me 90% of this shit is worthless? You think I don't know a con when I see one?"
"I'm not conning you. That would be short sided. I'm sure we will be making plenty of money together in the future. Especially if you check for this mark before you bring it to me. Anyways, I don't even want them at a reduced price. I don't want them at all." He sighed. "The kind of person who can afford Graffs run in very small circles, and if they ran into the original owner, they'd just have to take it to Graff confirm it was theirs. Boom, I'm in prison. Too risky."
"Then sell it to someone who doesn't run in those circles," I responded.
"And if they discover what it actually is and how much it's worth? What will they think? If they don't sell it themselves, which would lead to the same problem, they alert the authorities. I could sell it to a jeweler out of the country, where no customer would recognize it, but he'll know what they are and use that as leverage to screw me."
"Argh. Jesus fucking Christ. Then what will you give me for the others?"
He studied the bunch. "Three and a half."
"Make it five," I shot back.
"I don't bargain; it's a waste of time. I told you this last time, and I don't like to repeat myself. It's a fair price. Take it or leave it."
I pulled out my phone. "Fine, but I'm talking pictures of this shit, and talking to my guy out of town. If he says you swindled me, I'm burning this fucking place to the ground. With you in it." I snapped a few shots of all the pieces without the mark he'd shown me, and shoved my phone back in my pocket.
His face scrunched up in irritation. "I do not like being threatened."
"Nobody does, man. If it's a 'fair price,' you have nothing to worry about."
He collected the jewelry, and walked into the back to get the money. I waited and thought about Leroy. He wanted to be paid tomorrow.
The 3500 bucks combined with what I got for the painting and all the other miscellaneous stuff (prescription drugs, silverware, gold fixtures, electronics that likely didn't have GPS, clothes, etc) left me with about ten grand. Not much compared to what I'd made last time. I could pay my whole debt off, but that would leave me with nothing. I could pay Leroy the five I owed him, but five grand would only last me a couple months, and meanwhile my debt would keep ticking up.
My arms dealer in D.C. would probably give me a whole lot for what had been in that armory… but no. Not worth tangling with the Lion, and not to mention I had no smart way of moving tons of weapons and explosives. Why'd it have to be his house? Anyone else, I would have broken into their safe and made out with way waaay more even with this bullshit jewelry thing, but chances are the Lion wouldn't mind rigging his safe with some kind of lethal trap. Heat from an explosion couldn't kill me, but the concussive force could.
Shit. It'd take me awhile to line up another job, and fuck if I was going to go back to robbing drug dealers, smalltime B&E and living in a motel. Perhaps it was time I started considering the option that had been in the back of my mind ever since he stopped trying to get into my pants, and sent those muscleheads to collect from me. Maybe it was time for Leroy to stop bothering me, permanently.
I smiled.
XXX
Leroy had turned one of those ugly brick boxes in the Rosemary neighborhood into a fortress. It was only one story, but it had several basement levels, each with a few armed guards. Paranoid or into something darker than loan sharking? There was one door and two small windows out front. The back door and window had been bricked up at some point, which left only three exit points in the front. Normally, that would make the building more secure, especially with the ten guards. However, the few exit points actually made what I'd planned easier. The cameras meant I had to be quick. If I'd been well equipped and maybe had some backup, I would have used flashbangs, grenades and an assault rifle to end Leroy myself, but the whole point of doing this was to save money, not spend it.
I parked the boosted white van down a couple blocks down from Leroy's pad, my knee bobbing up and down in a mix of nervousness and anticipation. It would have been nice to do this under the cover of darkness, but Leroy spent a lot of his nights in that underground casino (with no discernable schedule), and since it was rush hour, the police and firemen response time would be even more delayed than it was in Rosemary. I moved to the back of the van, and grabbed the metal can of gasoline with holes drilled in the top and sides, ignoring the others which were connected with gas soaked rags. I hoped my power didn't decide that it would be a good time to spontaneously combust.
I set the can in the passenger's seat, making sure it didn't tip over because of its rounded bottom and threw the big ass rock next to it. I slipped the flare into my pocket. There wasn't a whole lot of gas in the hole filled can, but if I filled it too full it'd be too heavy for me to throw. Man, I needed to get back in shape.
I slipped back into the driver's seat, and put the van in drive. Time to get started. I could feel that tight feeling in my chest, the one I always had before an operation. God, this was going to be fun. I pulled onto the road, moving fast. I drove through a couple of blocks filled with brick, box houses, and reached Leroy's block. His house was on the left at the corner. I slowed down as I approached it. When I was in front of the house right before his, I turned sharply, and crossed the street, driving through the neighbor's yard. I pulled the van parallel to the front of Leroy's house, and drove the van so close that the driver's side mirror broke off and the side of the van scraped against the bricks.
Once the van was blocking the door and one of the windows, I put into park, pulled the emergency break, and grabbed the keys. I quickly crawled into the passenger's side, carefully avoiding the gas can and rock, and opened the door.
I jumped out into Leroy's lawn. I grabbed the rock and swung it as hard as I could into the window that wasn't blocked by the van, the only exit. It was one of those old windows with no screen, just a pane of glass. I heard the rock shatter the glass, as I grabbed the gas can. I could hear yelling inside the house. I swung the can, just like the rock, and it crashed through the broken window. The rounded bottom would ensure it fell on its side, spilling out gasoline through the holes in the top and side. I waited a moment for it to spill across the floor before I lit the flare and threw it into the window. I was rewarded with a rush of heat, and the sound of a man screaming. I laughed. I knew that noise well.
I slipped my beretta out, and moved quickly, but quietly down the side of the brick house, ready to fire. The guard who stood out back rounded the corner, drawn by the noise. I put a bullet in his head. I moved down the side of the house, past his corpse. I put my back to the edge of the house, and lifted my gun, quickly turning the corner. I scanned the back, making sure someone hadn't joined him earlier. No. It was empty. I put my beretta back into the holster and rand down the alleyway.
Once I reached the shed in the backyard of the abandoned house, I looked both ways down the alley, confirming there was no one around. I pushed the back door to the shed open and stepped in. I moved to the middle of the empty shed, stripping off my pants, shirt and mask, but leaving my gloves on. I tossed them the center of the concrete floor. I cleared the chamber, removed the clip from the beretta. I threw the gun onto the pile of clothes. I removed the mini canister of lighter fluid and my zippo from my pants pocket. I soaked the clothes in the fluid, and then opened the front door of the shed. Then I tossed my gloves and the gas can into the pile, lit the lighter and threw it onto the clothes, igniting them.
Clad in my jogging shorts and a tank top, I jogged out through the yard of the abandoned house and onto the sidewalk. I started jogging around the block. Hopefully by the time I circled back to Leroy's there'd be a crowd drawn by the fire, and I'd be able to watch the firemen bring out eleven burnt corpses.
XXX
The diner was nearly empty, just a few patrons. It wasn't an ideal place for discussing possible illegal operations by the agency, but it had been Derrick's favorite. We'd eaten here a bunch of times, and I needed him as nostalgic and amiable as I could get him. Fortunately, our usual booth in the south-east corner, by the side door had been open. The waitress came and set down my coffee. "Your food will be ready in just a few moments," she said in that false friendly voice all servers use. I nodded, and picked up my cup to take a sip. Ahh… It was scalding hot, precisely as I liked it.
As I set my cup down, and I noticed Derrick enter. Same bleach blonde hair, and grey jacket. I checked my phone. 8:30pm. Derrick walked over, and I stood. I opened my arms and gave him a hug. Like I said. I needed him amiable. "Punctual, as always," I said with a smile.
"It's good to see you, Laiyla. How have you been?" He asked as we sat down.
"Oh you know, ups and downs. Been pretty busy lately," I answered.
"Yeah? What are you doing now?"
"This and that. Security Consulting, investigation, some odd jobs here and there. Nothing fancy, but it puts bread on the table. You still doing the same thing?" I took another sip of my coffee.
"Yeah. Been pretty boring without you running around, of course." He smiled.
"Stop it, you dirty flatterer."
The waitress came by, arms loaded with those oval shaped plates. "Chicken fried steak with extra gravy?"
I pointed at Derrick and said, "That would be him." She set his plate down.
"And here's your hot cakes. Let me know if guys need anything else." She set a glorious plate of steaming pancakes before me. Thank god.
XXX
Standing in the parking lot of the diner, I slipped out a cigarette. "You want one?" I asked him.
"Nah. I quit."
I shrugged and sparked my lighter. The flame twisted into the shape of Derrick, lying on the ground. He was panicked, his mouth moving rapidly. Then the image vanished and I lit my cigarette. Interesting. Was that something that would happen between us, or someone else? I turned to look at him, taking a drag. Strangely, he looked nervous. He hadn't seen it too, had he? No one else had ever been able to.
"Something wrong?" I asked him.
The expression was wiped from his face. "No, no. I'm fine." He pointed at my smoke. "Actually, you know what, I will take one of those."
"Thought you said you quit?"
"Well, you know, one won't hurt. I can quit again tomorrow." He gave me a fake smile, and I knew something was wrong. Derrick was an open book. He didn't school his expressions and fake expressions.
I slipped one out and handed it and my lighter to him. He took them. When he sparked the lighter, the flame shifted again. There was a brain surrounded by a tangle of wiring and a metal frame. It looked like someone had stuffed the inside of a computer inside their skull. It was exactly what I saw before I decided to come to D.C. looking for answers.
Derrick took a deep drag. "What did you say you came back to the city for again?"
"I didn't." I decided to be direct. That worked best with him. "What's wrong Derrick? You look like someone told you your puppy's dead."
He shifted uncomfortably. "I figured out why you're here. You're pretty bad at hiding it. I know we aren't supposed to talk about it though, so let's just drop it."
I stepped closer to him. "I'm pretty sure you're wrong, so why don't you just tell me what you think you know."
He backed up a little, stepping up against the wall. "Your eyes. You need to be more careful about showing people that shit. You could get into a lot of trouble. Look, I get it. You 'left,' the agency," He said, making air quotes with his fingers on the word 'left.' "Let's just leave it alone. You want to get a drink or something?"
I stepped even closer to him. With his back against the wall, he had nowhere to back up to. "I didn't leave the agency. I was fucking fired, by that prick, Asselman. And what about my eyes?"
"Right. You were fired. And nothing. It must have been a trick of the light. I shouldn't have said anything. Let's just grab a drink and forget this whole conversation."
I grabbed his jacket. "Stop lying. It doesn't suit you. Spit it out, now."
He squirmed in my grasp, and sighed. "Okay, okay. Your eyes turned red when you looked at the lighter. There. I know you're in the MKUltra reboot."
I was silent, just looking at him. Did I have my answer? The CIA had rebooted the infamous MKUltra program. The old version had unwilling, unaware participants hadn't it? Who better to start with than operatives that left the agency in disgrace? Kill two birds with one stone. Get rid of potential problems and get disposable subjects to experiment on.
Perhaps I should drop it for now, and get that drink with him. If he thought I was an agent assigned to the program he probably wouldn't mind telling me what he knew.
At the same time… That vision I'd had of him on the ground… If it wasn't me he was cowering from, then who was it? If the agency was looking for me after I escaped, my friends at Langley would be a useful resource. I'd figured the agency would have stopped tailing them by now, but maybe they'd been interviewed. Maybe they'd been told to report any contact with me.
He probably hadn't told anyone about meeting me. The bugs I'd put in his phone and house let me know that, but maybe this little interaction here was enough to push him to tell someone.
XXX
Investigate (Select One Option)
[] [Investigate] Following the money trail was never your forte, but no better time to start than now. Take Derrick to get that drink, and see what you can find out.
[] [Investigate] Derrick won't know anything of use. You need names and addresses. Time to hit up some other contacts.
- [] [Investigate] Pick up Morgan, an agency subcontractor who does the things agents can't. If it was the agency, he'll probably be involved or know someone who is. If the new CIA Ultra program is not behind this (unlikely, but possible), he might know who it actually is. You should probably hit up your arms dealer first; Morgan's no joke.
- [] [Investigate] Drop in on Rita, your best friend from when you worked at the agency. You can't really trust anybody, but you can trust her the most. It's unlikely, but she might be part of the MKUltra 2.0 project. You'll have to be careful.
[] [Investigate] It's time to head back to Puritan City. It seems likely the agency is behind this, and being here is dangerous. You can look deeper into it later or some way that doesn't require you being in D.C.
[] [Investigate] Write In
And What to Do With Derrick? (Select One Option)
[] [Derrick] One person knowing you're an Ultra is one too many. Take him somewhere convenient and dispose of him and any evidence.
[] [Derrick] He knows you're an Ultra so you might as well give him a little demonstration of what will happen to him if he tells anyone. Hopefully he stays quiet.
[] [Derrick] Tell him that, hypothetically, if you were to be in the MKUltra 2.0, even his superiors are too low clearance to know about it. He's to tell no one. Hopefully he stays quiet.
[] [Derrick] Write in
Fire Reading (Write In As Many as You Like)
[] [Fire] You look into the fire, and concentrate on...
-[] [Fire] Write in
I reserve the right to veto write ins.
EDIT: Whoops. Almost forgot. Laura will do a fire reading on anything that gets at least three votes in the next 12 hours. The more votes it gets, the harder she'll try. When you make up a reading, be sure to roll a 1d100 (that will be modified by me depending on stuff...) You can wait to vote on other stuff until you get your reading. Or not.
Last edited:
Fire Reading: Leroy
theimpetus
Fist of the Duplex
- Location
- The Unbekannt
Oops. I forgot to close the voting for Fire readings. Here is the one that won.
[X] [Fire] You look into the fire, and concentrate on...
-[X] [Fire] Leroy. Is the bastard really dead? There were 11 corpses, true, but no way to identify them on sight.
Fire Reading: 1d100 - 4 - Leroy
Standing across the street from Leroy's burning house in a crowd of gawkers, I stared into the flames. Concentrating extremely hard, I looked into the flames, thinking of Leroy. Was the bastard actually dead? For a long time, I saw nothing in the fire, but after a few minutes the flames began to twist and shift. They swirled and curled, rearranging themselves in fantastic fractals. The people around me, and the noise of the city faded away. I felt tears roll down my cheek. It was beautiful. I looked deeper, watching the flames arrange themselves in shapes of such impossibility that I stopped breathing. I wanted...
"Hey!" I felt myself being shaken. "You. Go get one of the firefighters! What are you waiting for, go!"
I was on the ground, looking up at the crowd surrounding me. There was a woman kneeling beside me."Oh. You're awake. You just fell to the ground. Don't worry, helps on the way. Do you have a medical condition we should know about?"
I sat up. "No. No, I'm fine. I don't need any help." I stood, shakily, and began to walk off, the crowd parting to let me through. Attention was the last thing I needed right now. The woman yelled after me, but I ignored her. What the fuck had that been about?
[X] [Fire] You look into the fire, and concentrate on...
-[X] [Fire] Leroy. Is the bastard really dead? There were 11 corpses, true, but no way to identify them on sight.
Fire Reading: 1d100 - 4 - Leroy
Standing across the street from Leroy's burning house in a crowd of gawkers, I stared into the flames. Concentrating extremely hard, I looked into the flames, thinking of Leroy. Was the bastard actually dead? For a long time, I saw nothing in the fire, but after a few minutes the flames began to twist and shift. They swirled and curled, rearranging themselves in fantastic fractals. The people around me, and the noise of the city faded away. I felt tears roll down my cheek. It was beautiful. I looked deeper, watching the flames arrange themselves in shapes of such impossibility that I stopped breathing. I wanted...
"Hey!" I felt myself being shaken. "You. Go get one of the firefighters! What are you waiting for, go!"
I was on the ground, looking up at the crowd surrounding me. There was a woman kneeling beside me."Oh. You're awake. You just fell to the ground. Don't worry, helps on the way. Do you have a medical condition we should know about?"
I sat up. "No. No, I'm fine. I don't need any help." I stood, shakily, and began to walk off, the crowd parting to let me through. Attention was the last thing I needed right now. The woman yelled after me, but I ignored her. What the fuck had that been about?