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Fiend: Thread Two, the Rethreading [Exalted/Worm]

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Dimensionist said:
That's a rather precise use of TK, though. Can Simurgh even do that?
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We don't know, but saying things that equate to "A power that moves molecules around can't affect molecules" is kinda dumb. The wind isn't intangible, otherwise you wouldn't be able to feel it on your face.
 
Well, that was fun.

I am now hoping a random sick person who needs money for surgery happens on the backpack.

As for Taylor, she is going to be slightly traumatized by this. Her first sortie as a Team leader and she ends up with her follower's leg being broken. :)
 
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    • Operation Wyldhand 5.14

    With a crash and a sprinkling of glass, the window shattered. I used my pistol to clean the shards out, leaving an empty frame. I grabbed it, and pulled myself up, gingerly. My body - especially my back- protested the movement, letting me know how injured I was. Very injured, it turned out. I passed through the new hole, and dropped down on the other side.

    My landing was hard enough to knock the air out of my lungs. I took a second to catch my breath, before I stood, heading deeper into the building. I was still only a dozen yards from Damsel, and I had to hide my glow before the ambulance, and probably police, arrived.

    I stumbled past a row of file cabinets, gripping them to keep my balance. The room was as bright as it would have been midday, from my head-glow. If I just got a few walls between me and any windows, that would be enough. I passed right by a copy machine, and tried to open the door. Locked. I tried to break it, ramming it with my shoulder, but I just bounced off, leaving a small dent. I backed up, and heard a set of sirens that could only be less than a block away. I ran for the door, and hit it dead on.

    The door broke off its hinges, and I went down with it, landing on top of it. The handle was digging into my stomach, until I stood, and walked through the sea of cubicles. I plopped down, exhausted, right in the middle. Good enough. I wasn't visible from any windows, or at least any windows near Damsel. Lying on my back, I heard the sirens turn off, what sounded like only twenty feet away from Damsel.

    She was safe. Even with my ability to see through the night, it was getting dark. I was so tired. I closed my eyes, to rest.

    xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

    Glaring sunlight, passing right through a window behind me, woke me up.

    How long had I slept?

    I stood - or tried to. My back let me know it's condition, and that it wasn't happy with me. I steadied myself on the table. I traced my steps back, right to the window. As I passed through the dim copy room, my features shifted, again with the face of Daphne's sister. I took off my gear, stuffing it into the satchel. It couldn't even close, with everything in it. Even with my missing knife, and a missing magazine, it was still too much. II exited, this time landing on my feet, and walked back to where I had left Damsel.

    No chalk outline of a body, and no police tape. She was still alive. I nearly fainted in relief, before decided to do something more productive. The morning sun shone right at me, and I backtracked, heading for where I remembered a telephone pole stood. out where she was. Hopefully in a hospital, or better yet, at the apartment. The latter of which was very unlikely. And I didn't have a cell phone to contact her. Phone first, then. Her cell phone hadn't been where I had left it, so had likely been taken by the paramedics.

    I could just use a payphone- and I had no change. All of it had been in my backpack. I couldn't hail a cab, with no money. I had a broken cell phone, and my keys, one to the new apartment, and the other to the old one. No options, other than to start walking. The sun rose in the east, so I headed what had to be west, reasoning that I wasn't far enough away from last night's debacle. Two blocks away, I turned north, to the new apartment. If I could just figure out where Central Park was, I would have no problems.

    I spent every step dreading and hoping, running through far too many awful scenarios. I was reminded of how bad I had it when my mother died- but in reverse. This time, it had been my fault. I hadn't been able to keep Daphne from getting hurt. I hadn't stopped whoever had used that mind-attack power from making her fall off the roof. I had nothing to show for last night, save for a series of severe injuries.

    I reached Central park, and headed west, right to the apartment building. I flashed my key at the doorman, and he opened the door, before opening his mouth. I stalked past him, beelining for the elevators. I had to check on Daphne.

    The elevator dinged open, and I fumbled with my keys, nearly dropping them in my haste to open the door. I slammed it behind me, irritated by its obstinance. And I didn't have a phone here. There wasn't one in the apartment yet, since we both had cell phones. The boxes from our new furniture littered the apartment, empty, waiting to be taken down to the garbage. Maybe my new furniture, if Daphne didn't pull through. I banished that thought: It was unproductive.

    I took out one of the few, solitary remaining stacks of bills. We had spent way too much, and without the influx of money from last night, would have to do something to refill our coffers. I pulled out my gear, and Daphne's costume parts from her satchel, and hid them inside a suitcase. I took off my filthy clothes and put on clean ones, disquieted at dirty skin touching clean clothes.

    I grabbed the satchel, locking the apartment door behind me. I had to get to a phone, or buy one. Really, buy one. I waved down a cab as I stepped out of the building. Convenience store, or a mall maybe, for the cell phone.

    "Where to?" the driver asked, as I gingerly sat down.

    "Nearest mall," I answered curtly.

    He turned around, pulling right into traffic, the cars now behind us honking as they were cut off. We heading right up the edge of Central Park, before he drove through a traffic circle, stopping in front of a pair of skyscrapers, connected at the base. I paid with a twenty, not even caring about the change. Contacting Daphne took priority over everything else. I entered the mall, and saw a directory. A quick examination, and I couldn't find anything cell-phone related. Damn. I looked ahead, down the mall, hoping it was wrong. A series of kiosks lined the center of the path, and at second glance, were unmarked on the directory. One of them had to sell cellphones.

    I moved as quickly as I could without drawing attention, keeping my speed to a fast walk. First kiosk was fake tattoos. Second was some sort of nail-thing, little decals. Third was rows and rows of cellphones and cellphone cases. I tapped the lanky teenager manning the kiosk on the shoulder, drawing his attention from his cellphone. He paused what looked like a game, and turned to me before flinching back. My irritation must have shown, and I let it loose on him.

    "Prepaid, now," I ordered.

    His eyes flicked down, before he looked away, backing up slightly. "Uh, miss-"

    "Prepaid," I snapped, pulling out several twenties, and slamming them on the counter. His eyes dropped to my hand, before he shakily took the money, passing me a phone. I tore the plastic casing apart, dropping it on the counter, and left. I flipped the cellphone open as I walked away, noting the charge. Half-full. I dialed Daphne's cell, waiting for the call to go through.

    "Hello?" came a voice. Not Daphne's voice.

    Icy cold fingers of panic seized my heart. I croaked out, "I'm looking for my sister, Daphne."

    "She's been admitted, and there are some issues. We can send a car to pick you up. What is your location?"

    I went straight for the meat: "She's okay? She's not hurt badly?"

    The woman calmly answered, "No, she will make a full recovery. Where can I send a car to retrieve you?"

    Almost at the door, I nearly wept in relief. I had thought, for one brief moment, she was dead. Nearly by my own hand. As I passed people, several gave me strange looks, presumably from my rapidly changing expressions. I replied, "I'm at the mall in the skyscrapers, next to Central Park."

    "Columbus Circle," and with that she hung up. Daphne must have had amazing insurance, to get a private hospital willing to provide a car service. Which made sense - caping was a dangerous business, and one that could result in serious or permanent injury. I pushed open the glass door, and froze.

    I saw myself in the mirror. I had forgotten to put on a jacket. That was worrying, but, the far worse part was the bronze skin, covering parts of my arm. The face I made, reflected back at me, would've been hilarious, at any other time or to any other person. Right now, to me, it was pants-shittingly horrified. It was what the cellphone salesman had seen, what every person I had passed had seen and flinched away from, and what people would see as I walked outside.

    I scrambled back in, heading for the first clothing store I found, restraining myself from running. Drawing more attention would be counterproductive. Perfume and pounding music graced my arrival, and I started a search pattern. I grabbed a jacket off the rack, and headed right for the checkout. I winced at the price, waiting to be helped. I set my new three hundred dollar grey jacket down, before hiding my arms behind me. I didn't talk to the cashier, an irritatingly perky woman, ignoring her attempts at small talk. I just wanted it done. I shelled out cash, before taking my change and jacket. I threw it on as I left the store, ignoring the feeling of tags on my back.

    My new cellphone buzzed in my pocket, and whistled at me. I opened the phone, noting the 'Unknown Number.' "Ms. Waldon?"

    "It's me," I answered, before adding, "I am walking right out the door,"

    I pushed the glass door open, and realized my mistake. Too late to do anything. Daphne wasn't in a private hospital. A PRT Van sat in the circle, lights flashing, and a uniformed man was talking into a cell phone, across the plaza from me. Too few people were in between us, and at seeing me exit, he waved.

    "I think I see you," he said.

    "Me too," I duly replied. I walked to him, at the same speed of an death row inmate. We had been found out. He opened the van's rear doors, and I closed my cell phone, taking his hand as it was offered to step up into the back. He followed, and sat across from me. And didn't cuff me.

    "We are just going to Roosevelt Hospital, around the block," he said, mistaking my look of dread for confusion. Why would we be going to the hospital, rather than the PRT Headquarters? They didn't know? The PRT wasn't one to play games, to my knowledge, so they really didn't know. My spirits were buoyed, before they sank almost immediately. Daphne was still in a hospital.

    "Is she alright? What's all this for?" I asked, generally curious.

    "She's fine, and I can't explain. If you can just wait a moment," he answered, before being cut off by the van stopping. He opened the doors and waved me out. We had parked directly in front of what had to be the hospital, in the ambulance zone. As I followed the unnamed officer to the sliding glass doors, the van left. What was going on?

    Another PRT officer was holding an elevator for us, and we ascended in silence. I was dead still, resisting the urge to fidget. Being nervous right now would only betray my guilt. The elevator dinged open, and I trailed after both PRT officers. They led me to a hallway, where several armored PRT officers waited, all with foam guns, along with one man in a suit. He turned, alerted to my presence by the oncoming unarmored PRT officers.

    "Ms. Waldon? I'm Director Wilkins, of the Parahuman Response Team. I'd like to talk to you about your sister."

    I nearly pinched myself to see if I was delusional. This was about Daphne? I shook his hand, and asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible, "Where is Daphne? She wouldn't answer my calls all day."

    Director Willkins, a tall and broad shouldered man, nodded. "I'm sure she couldn't. Ms. Waldon, I regret to inform you, but it is my duty. Your sister is a cape, specifically a villain. She goes by the name of Damsel of Distress."

    Daphne was a villain? I had thought she was a vigilante. And then why was she with me, who sure wasn't nice to villains. But I could figure this out later. I had gotten her into this mess. I was going to get her out. I pleaded, "A villain? Daphne! No way, there is just no way she is."

    He nodded, as if he had expected that. "She destroyed part of her bed, with her signature power, not an hour ago. After that, it was fairly obvious who she was. The most important part, however, is we hope she can shed some light on some serious cases here in New York."

    "But she can't be a villain, she's always been there for me," I dodged, trying my collection of sappy movie quotes. Or something close.

    "I know it is hard to accept, but we even have camera footage. Of course, if she cooperates, we are looking at very small sentence, with no chance of the Birdcage. But if she doesn't…" he trailed off.

    I got the hint. If she didn't pony up on Defiler, and the explosions from last night, they would throw the book at her. I had to get her out of here. Her real identity was compromised, just as mine had been. And, my fault too. I could sneak in here, disguising myself again, but could I get her out? I needed a look in her room. If there were no officers stationed inside, I could break her out.

    "Can I see her?" I asked, not faking the desperation in my voice.

    "Yes, but she is still unconscious-" The Director was cut off. A sick, staccato crack swallowed the rest of his sentence. The floor pitched beneath our feet and knocked half the gathered troops to their knees. Fine dust drifted down from the ceiling in a faint haze, knocked loose by whatever that had been. Urgent beeps echoed around us, as medical equipment registered their protests.

    "Status," the Director ordered, voice calm. The armored troops helped each other up, while my initial escort put a finger to his ear. What was happening?

    My escort replied, "Something hit the support column outside the lobby - wait. No, capes attacking! Some kind of Blaster, hitting the building, along with a Breaker, teleporting people around. Something else, Brute, too."

    "Any demands?"

    A quick clarification of, "No. But they have already bypassed the lobby, and are in an elevator-"

    The ding of the elevator arriving on our floor interrupted him. A snake like creature- snake like in that it was long and thing, I couldn't see much else at its speed - whipped across the floor, heading straight for us. Two PRT officers were quick on the draw, and shot streams of off-white liquid at it. The foam hit it, forming a cocoon around its head. Until it vanished, replaced by surprised PRT officer, whose foam gun started spraying the ceiling. Something hard hit me in the back, knocking me over. I was pulled up, by one arm, by the Director, even as two PRT officers were caught by the thing's coils.

    He pulled me along, covered by two more officers, along with the unarmored ones, right into a room. With Daphne in it. He pulled a pistol from his waistband, adding to our small groups armament of three pistols and a pair of foam guns.

    A male voice called out from the hall, "You guys have someone - well, two someones - we want. Hand over Damsel of Distress and her sister."
     
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    • So... Mob hired Travelers to assist (or go in instead of them)? And that means Noelle might start rampaging any moment now. Oh, joy.

    Also, PRT isn't letting Daphne go. That would be negotiating with terrorists. So, Legend is going to be arriving soonish. And then he could get nommed by Noelle. Oh, the glorious clusterf*ck.
     
    warlock7 said:
    would be funny if jass (Genesis) once played exalted in earth aleph...what will noelle get from defiler?
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    Nothing, most likely. A normal human if Taylor doesn't use By Rage Recast. Mutated human (who may or may not have awakened essence) if she has some mutations going. And nothing at all if she uses stone body (Weld was made of metal and was immune to Noelle. Thus, Taylor would be immune too, when made out of stone).
     
    The fun never stops on the Taylor train. And the Bronze should be fine, I'm pretty sure no ones actually seen her wounds as they heal, so they won't immediately connect to Defiler.
     
    If Mob Boss Reinc is Contessa, this is going to be an extremely weird situation where Cauldron is simultaneously having to deal with Defiler hitting their patsy organization (which they now know because of all the green fire) but at the same time, shift resources around i.e. demand Coil allow them to use the Travellers to rescue Damsel and her new 'sister' or at least get them out of PRT HQ. But since Taylor doesn't know any of this, there may be lots of green hatefire being spewn around.

    ... This is going to end with the PRT NY HQ going up in flames, huh?

    (The amount of confusion going on is amazing.)
     
    On another thought, Damsel did so well on getting that apartment and it's so lovely... and it's going to get used for all of like 1 night now that Damsel has been unmasked. Daphne bought that under her (true) civilian ID, right? So, now that her civilian ID is linked to her villain persona, I can't imagine the authorities would allow them to continue to use that apartment.
     
    Obviously, she need to capture them alive then explain her plan to eradicate gangs! It will help lower the limits!
    ...not very efficient, though. Hmm. How best to hit every Act of Villainy in this context?
     
    TheWeepingMan said:
    Obviously, she need to capture them alive then explain her plan to eradicate gangs! It will help lower the limits!
    ...not very efficient, though. Hmm. How best to hit every Act of Villainy in this context?
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    Throw everyone who stands against you out of a window while cackling madly? Burn someone with green hatefire in front of the cops? If you have to ask that question, you're not really thinking about what Taylor can do to people.

    I mean, she's in a hospital, surrounded by cops, being attacked by baddies. Acts of Villainy are going to be easy. Of course, does she want to commit them, that's the real question.
     
    logiccosmic said:
    "But she can't be a villain, she's always been there for me," I dodged, trying my collection of sappy movie quotes. Or something close.
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    Oh Taylor, still looking toward Hollywood for inspiration...

    Also, Travellers keep their reputations for "making the worse decisions at the worse times". I think Taylor's going to regret having left Daphne for the hospital. Still, i am glad she took Daphne being a villain so well :)
     
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