A better world is possible, and you will be there to see it happen. Some supervillainy may be required.
In Defense of Spite(Reboot)
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Going up, part 1
Inkbones
No Glory Save Honor
- Location
- Where you can still smell the sky
It was barely noon, and it had already started to rain blue fire.
As the limousine drove through the downpour, chunks of burning ice bouncing off it's armored exterior, you spent the time slowly and methodically cracking your knuckles. The handcuffs made it somewhat difficult, but you managed. You'd like to say it was a nervous habit, but frankly you were just trying to be annoying. You didn't really have nervous habits anymore.
The target of your psychological warfare, the hitman driving the car, didn't deign to react, but his partner in the passenger seat rewarded you efforts with a wordless glare. Two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle and post-military bloodlust turning around in his seat to glare at you is admittedly pretty intimidating, not that you can show it.
You meet his eyes, channel all of your childhood petulance into your expression, and crack your thumb.
There's a blur of movement, and your nose shifts slightly to the left with a click. Ah, he seems to have broken it. You decide to take the victory, and spend the rest of the ride in silence.
The driver- you're going to have to give these men names at some point- pulls you out and drapes his coat over your handcuffed hands.
"This isn't complicated." he says, wiping your bloody nose with a handkerchief. "No more acting out, no stunts, no making a scene, and no one gets hurt. We bring you to the client, you take his offer, and we all go home happy. Or, you could keep acting like a two-year-old, and wind up floating in the river tomorrow. Your choice."
"Understood." you say, eyeing the the protruding metallic veins that worm their way up his neck. Some sort of augmentation. Most likely spinal, giving him improved reflexes. Not that he needed them to kill you, effortlessly.
"Good. Now move."
The two of them each grab one of your shoulders and briskly move you across the plaza and into the building lobby. Their expensive leather shoes click on the solid gold Empire Industries logo, a stylized pyramid, embedded in the marble floor. Bringing you here, like this, in full view of anyone and everyone, is of course a power play. A statement of invincibility. A potent one, given that not a single person so much as gives you a second glance as you are very clearly forced into an elevator, which begins to rise with no prompting from either of your "guards."
The glass doors of the elevator give a magnificent view of the front of the skyscraper, and the city beyond.
The force-field surrounding the skyscraper flares golden whenever one of the projectiles gets too close. It looks like the burning hail has begun to taper off. The forcefield surrounding the building flares golden whenever one of the projectiles gets too close.
"Who do you think is responsible for this one?" you wonder aloud, gesturing with your cuffed hands toward the odd precipitation.
"I thought we told you to shut up." the hitman you elect to call "#1" says, digging his fingers into your shoulder.
"No, I did, you just encouraged him." #2 says, checking an orichalcum-plated watch. "We're literally minutes away from a giant payday. Can you please act like a professional for that long."
#1 folds his arms and glares out the side of the lift.
"And the news says it was the Weatherman, if you must know." says #2 to you, pointing to a hologram of a news report showing the grey-suited villain escaping in some sort of cyclone-powered flying machine. Another day in Harmony City.
"I wonder how much this one cost." you say.
"What?" says #1, breaking his brooding silence.
"Just wondering. How many people couldn't get shelter from the fire. How many were stuck inside their homes. How many people lost everything, today."
You stared up at the clouds, where whatever mad science had been causing the effect had relented to normal, banal rain.
"Okay, you're just trying to be creepy now." #1 says, leaning away from you.
"No." you rub your eyes. "No, that's not what I meant at all. This building has a forcefield. How difficult would it be to cover the entire city like that?"
"Very. And expensive. Who's gonna pay for all that?"
"Almost as expensive as repairing the damages after supervillain attacks, or kaiju, or vengeful gods, or any number of other natural disasters."
"Well, that's what we have superheroes for, right?"
"That is a very interesting opinion to have, given your line of work." You say, looking at him out of the corner of your eye. "Superheroes don't prevent disasters. They react to them. Badly."
You're pretty high up now. You have a view of most of the city, or you would if not for the rain.
"But more than that...it would be so easy to fix these problems. To help people, to protect them. But the people in charge, the people like your 'client,' they refuse to. When I was younger, I thought it was short-sightedness and greed. Now, I think it's because the idea of helping people offends them."
"That's a very interesting opinion to have, considering your origins." #2 says.
You look down at your hands, flexing your fingers in an attempt to gain circulation.
"Not really. When you're high up enough, you can't help but see how the world works. For so long, I have looked at it, and been absolutely certain that nothing was going to change. That the evil would run over the innocent uncontested. That it was already too late to do anything. I was certain I would grow up to see the world end. And now I'm not. "
"Why's that?" #2 says, quietly.
You reach up and grab the broken bridge of your nose. There's a click, cartilage grinding together, as you wrench it back into place. You don't even flinch from the pain, not from self-control or machismo, but because the parts of your brain that register pain literally can no longer communicate with the rest of it.
"Because now, I have a plan."
What is your plan?
[ ] Become The General| The General wades through the thick of the battlefield, commanding from the front. Put yourself in the greatest danger, so others don't have to be.
[ ] Become The Genius| The Genius researches, builds, and deploys mad science upon their enemies. Perhaps the only way to reach a better world is to build it, piece by piece.
[ ] Become The Mastermind| The Mastermind uses brilliant strategies to undermine their enemies and manipulate the various factions of the city. If you're clever enough, perhaps you can prevent more pain then you cause.
The elevator reaches the top floor with a ding. Once again, they lay your hands on your shoulders.
"Now then. Lets meet my father."
As the limousine drove through the downpour, chunks of burning ice bouncing off it's armored exterior, you spent the time slowly and methodically cracking your knuckles. The handcuffs made it somewhat difficult, but you managed. You'd like to say it was a nervous habit, but frankly you were just trying to be annoying. You didn't really have nervous habits anymore.
The target of your psychological warfare, the hitman driving the car, didn't deign to react, but his partner in the passenger seat rewarded you efforts with a wordless glare. Two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle and post-military bloodlust turning around in his seat to glare at you is admittedly pretty intimidating, not that you can show it.
You meet his eyes, channel all of your childhood petulance into your expression, and crack your thumb.
There's a blur of movement, and your nose shifts slightly to the left with a click. Ah, he seems to have broken it. You decide to take the victory, and spend the rest of the ride in silence.
The driver- you're going to have to give these men names at some point- pulls you out and drapes his coat over your handcuffed hands.
"This isn't complicated." he says, wiping your bloody nose with a handkerchief. "No more acting out, no stunts, no making a scene, and no one gets hurt. We bring you to the client, you take his offer, and we all go home happy. Or, you could keep acting like a two-year-old, and wind up floating in the river tomorrow. Your choice."
"Understood." you say, eyeing the the protruding metallic veins that worm their way up his neck. Some sort of augmentation. Most likely spinal, giving him improved reflexes. Not that he needed them to kill you, effortlessly.
"Good. Now move."
The two of them each grab one of your shoulders and briskly move you across the plaza and into the building lobby. Their expensive leather shoes click on the solid gold Empire Industries logo, a stylized pyramid, embedded in the marble floor. Bringing you here, like this, in full view of anyone and everyone, is of course a power play. A statement of invincibility. A potent one, given that not a single person so much as gives you a second glance as you are very clearly forced into an elevator, which begins to rise with no prompting from either of your "guards."
The glass doors of the elevator give a magnificent view of the front of the skyscraper, and the city beyond.
The force-field surrounding the skyscraper flares golden whenever one of the projectiles gets too close. It looks like the burning hail has begun to taper off. The forcefield surrounding the building flares golden whenever one of the projectiles gets too close.
"Who do you think is responsible for this one?" you wonder aloud, gesturing with your cuffed hands toward the odd precipitation.
"I thought we told you to shut up." the hitman you elect to call "#1" says, digging his fingers into your shoulder.
"No, I did, you just encouraged him." #2 says, checking an orichalcum-plated watch. "We're literally minutes away from a giant payday. Can you please act like a professional for that long."
#1 folds his arms and glares out the side of the lift.
"And the news says it was the Weatherman, if you must know." says #2 to you, pointing to a hologram of a news report showing the grey-suited villain escaping in some sort of cyclone-powered flying machine. Another day in Harmony City.
"I wonder how much this one cost." you say.
"What?" says #1, breaking his brooding silence.
"Just wondering. How many people couldn't get shelter from the fire. How many were stuck inside their homes. How many people lost everything, today."
You stared up at the clouds, where whatever mad science had been causing the effect had relented to normal, banal rain.
"Okay, you're just trying to be creepy now." #1 says, leaning away from you.
"No." you rub your eyes. "No, that's not what I meant at all. This building has a forcefield. How difficult would it be to cover the entire city like that?"
"Very. And expensive. Who's gonna pay for all that?"
"Almost as expensive as repairing the damages after supervillain attacks, or kaiju, or vengeful gods, or any number of other natural disasters."
"Well, that's what we have superheroes for, right?"
"That is a very interesting opinion to have, given your line of work." You say, looking at him out of the corner of your eye. "Superheroes don't prevent disasters. They react to them. Badly."
You're pretty high up now. You have a view of most of the city, or you would if not for the rain.
"But more than that...it would be so easy to fix these problems. To help people, to protect them. But the people in charge, the people like your 'client,' they refuse to. When I was younger, I thought it was short-sightedness and greed. Now, I think it's because the idea of helping people offends them."
"That's a very interesting opinion to have, considering your origins." #2 says.
You look down at your hands, flexing your fingers in an attempt to gain circulation.
"Not really. When you're high up enough, you can't help but see how the world works. For so long, I have looked at it, and been absolutely certain that nothing was going to change. That the evil would run over the innocent uncontested. That it was already too late to do anything. I was certain I would grow up to see the world end. And now I'm not. "
"Why's that?" #2 says, quietly.
You reach up and grab the broken bridge of your nose. There's a click, cartilage grinding together, as you wrench it back into place. You don't even flinch from the pain, not from self-control or machismo, but because the parts of your brain that register pain literally can no longer communicate with the rest of it.
"Because now, I have a plan."
What is your plan?
[ ] Become The General| The General wades through the thick of the battlefield, commanding from the front. Put yourself in the greatest danger, so others don't have to be.
[ ] Become The Genius| The Genius researches, builds, and deploys mad science upon their enemies. Perhaps the only way to reach a better world is to build it, piece by piece.
[ ] Become The Mastermind| The Mastermind uses brilliant strategies to undermine their enemies and manipulate the various factions of the city. If you're clever enough, perhaps you can prevent more pain then you cause.
The elevator reaches the top floor with a ding. Once again, they lay your hands on your shoulders.
"Now then. Lets meet my father."
Last edited:
Going Up, part 2
Inkbones
No Glory Save Honor
- Location
- Where you can still smell the sky
Potential trigger warnings for abuse and suicide.
Giant oaken doors slide apart upon your approach. Your "escorts" ungently guide you through the threshold of the office/penthouse, past exotic plants that twitch slightly in the dim light, past the hideously expensive works of sculptors from the ancient past and present, past the floor-to-ceiling windows showing the absolutely stunning view of the Harmony skyline burning in the light of the setting sun, up to the lacquered wooden desk behind which the forth richest man in the world sits, looking pissed.
Baron Fawkes is not a very handsome man, despite the efforts of his surgeons. He is a middle-aged white man with thinning hair and an extremely punchable jaw. He's wearing a grey tee shirt that costs more than a small house, and a gold wedding ring that clicks against the wood of his desk every time he drums his fingers on it. He's flanked by two more cyborg hitmen, gold filigree glinting on their ocular augments.
Your escorts push you into a chair, then step back slightly, staying in arms reach in case you try anything.
There is a long, awkward silence broken only by Fawkes' ring-tapping. This, of course, is another power play. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of looking annoyed, even if you didn't have silicon wires tracing through your frontal lobes.
"So." the CEO of Empire Industries says, eventually. "How you been?"
"Fine enough." you say, without skipping a beat. "Wrists are a little sore." you indicate your handcuffs.
"Yeah, I'm afraid those will have to stay on. I can't exactly trust you not to do anything stupid. Not after this latest stunt of yours." He pulls open a drawer, producing a bottle of something expensive and a couple of glasses.
"Now, normally I'd say that I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed, but I think it's pretty clear that I'm both." He fills a glass and slides it toward you. You do not pick it up.
"Six months, Philo." he says, after swallowing from his tumbler. "Six godsdamned months, scrounging through this fucking city, looking for you. Waiting for your body to turn up floating in the river, or cut up in a gutter. Do you have any idea how much I was worried?"
You say nothing.
"Then, one day, when I thought it couldn't get any worse, I wake up one morning and find your mother in the bathtub."
Your fingernails are grinding into your palms so hard you're drawing blood.
"That's why you came back, isn't it? You had to have heard. You thought coming back would fix everything. Well, you're wrong."
He bares his teeth, fist gripped around the bottle's neck, obviously enjoying your reaction. Despite everything, you could never really hide your feelings from him, even after the operation.
"The doctors called this morning. She's dead. Because of you."
You take a very deep breath.
"How does it feel, to be a fucking murderer? You knew it would hurt her, when you ran away. But you did it anyway. This is all on you-"
"You know, I had a speech planned." you say, interrupting him. Every muscle in your body is relaxed. You're burning with rage, but the rage can't get to you. You're invincible. "I was going to talk about how parasites like you are destroying the world through your greed. How humanity itself will rebel against you, overwhelm and destroy you and build a better world from your bones. But right now, I don't think I care enough about you to waste my breath. You're an abusive sack of shit, a pathetic excuse for a father and a husband, and my only regret is that I couldn't save mom from you."
"Oh no you don't." he says, gaining volume. "You don't get to lay this at my feet. You were always the one who acted out, who tore this family apart. You never even tried to do as you were told, even though you knew how much it hurt her. I spent billions trying to fix you. Military-grade emotion dampeners, world-renowned surgeons, enough cyberware to buy an island, and how to do you repay me? By running away. Well, now you're reaping the benefits. I don't have a son or a wife."
Little flecks of spittle fly out of his mouth and onto the desk. You're enjoying this, in a way. Did he really use to terrify you?
"You're right, Mr. Fawkes." you say. "You fixed me. I'm not afraid anymore. I can think, and I can make plans now. And now, in the center of your power, I am going to rob you, and use your money to help people."
Fawkes smiles. His cyborgs tense. "Oh really? And how are you going to do that?"
Good question.
What is your plan? [Every choice represents a stat. You have 4 points to distribute across them. As a Mastermind, you automatically have 2 Consort and 1 Study]
[ ] +1 Hunt| You have a concealed gun. [Hunt is the Action used to attack from afar with a ranged weapon, as well as tracking in general]
-[ ] +2 Hunt| Write-in: What kind of gun is it? A pistol, a collapsible shotgun, a plasma rifle?
-[ ] +2 Study| Write-in: what is the flaw, and how do you exploit it?
[ ] +1 Survey| The building has a secret escape route. [Survey is the action used to read a situation, such as an ambush or a hiding place]
-[ ] +2 Survey| Write in: what is it, and how do you escape with it?
[ ] +1 Tinker| You have a hidden gadget. [Tinker is the Action used to manipulate technology, either to hack them or to build them]
-[ ] +2 Tinker| Write-in: What does it do, and how do you use it?
[ ] +1 Skirmish| You have an exotic weapon. [Skirmish is the Action used to fight in close quarters]
-[ ] +2 Skirmish| What is it?(A laser-swordcane, an EMP grenade, a teleport-node?)
[ ] +1 Prowl| Last night, you snuck into the building and planted something? [Prowl is the Action used to move quietly and undetected, or to move quickly across dangerous terrain]
-[ ] +2 Prowl| What did you do? (Planted a bomb, sabotaged the security systems, hacked the servers?)
[ ] +1 Finesse| You picked one of your escort's pockets. [Finesse is the Action used to perform tasks that are delicate or fiddly]
-[ ] +2 Finesse| What did you take(the keys to the cuffs, his gun, his knife?)
[ ] +1 Wreck| You have a grenade. [Wreck is the Action used to destroy, break down, or shatter]
-[ ] +2 Wreck| What kind of grenade is it? (Fragmentary, smoke, EMP?) What do you do with it?
[ ] +1 Attune| You have a potion vial. [Attune is the Action used to do magic, interface with cybernetics, or used psionic powers]
-[ ] +2 Attune| What does it do to you when you drink it?
[ ] +1 Sway| You tricked the Heroes into assaulting the building. [Sway is the Action used to lie, manipulate, and convince]
-[ ] +2 Sway| Write-in: What did you tell them?
[ ] +1 Command| Fawkes knows the hidden safe combination. [Command is the Action used to intimidate, and to issue orders to your allies]
-[ ] +2 Command| Write-in: How do you force him to tell you?
Going Up, Part 3
Inkbones
No Glory Save Honor
- Location
- Where you can still smell the sky
Take highest result.
1-3=Failure
4-5=Partial Success
6=Full Success
Multiple 6's= Critical success
Consort: 4,4
Study: 3,3
Sway: 2
Command: 5
1-3=Failure
4-5=Partial Success
6=Full Success
Multiple 6's= Critical success
Consort: 4,4
Study: 3,3
Sway: 2
Command: 5
You weren't very smart, back then. Clever, maybe, but not smart. There is a very important difference.
You lock eyes with the bastard who calls himself your father and carefully enunciate "Three card Monte."
Being clever is knowing how to make an ingenious plan. Being smart is knowing that ingenious plans do not work.
The cyborg you'd mentally named "number one" screams, clutches his head, and falls to the ground.
Fawkes raises an eyebrow. "You know that only works if I say it, right? Did you really think I was that stupid?"
He stands up and nonchalantly walks over to where your turncoat is shuddering on the floor, holding his head.
"Yeah, I knew all about your little buddy here. I don't invest in things I can't control, Philo. That includes you." he gestures to Number 2. "Take him to the basement and shoot him in the stomach. I want it to be slow."
As 2 drags 1's prone form down the stairs and out the door, Fawkes removes the lid of the antique silver urn on his desk, and takes out a lollipop. Cherry, you think.
"I knew about the traitor, and I knew you knew about the code phrase, so I fixed it so it would only fuck with him. I saw every little trick of yours coming a mile away."
You lean forward in your seat, fingers laced together.
"Did you know about the heroes?" you say, looking out the window.
"The what-" is all he manages to say, before the man in spandex shatters the glass behind him.
No, strike that, the child in spandex. Hels, they sent the kiddie team.
Kid Wyvern hovers in the broken window pain, hands on hips in a carefully-practiced pose, crayon-green cape fluttering in the wind, looking sheepish.
"Uh. Sorry about the window, sir." he says to Fawkes.
"Oh, it's fine son." Fawkes says, smiling. "And please, it's Baron, remember? We met at the charity event last month. How'd your school soccer game go?"
"Oh. Uh, we lost." Kid Wyvern says, scratching under his bright-red dragon-scale mask. "But we'll get 'em next time. Uh, thanks again for giving all that money to the Apprentice program."
"Oh, please. When it comes to the city's future heroes" he turns and locks eyes with you. "I prefer to think of it as an investment." He turns back to Wyvern. "Anyway son, how I can help the forces of justice today?"
You pinch your nose. Of course he has the godsdamned superheroes in his pocket. Of course he does.
The child is thankfully oblivious to the power play going on. "Well, we received an anonymous tip that Polyphemus was hypnotizing people in the Empire building, so I was flying by to check it out, then I heard somebody screaming and I jumped the gun." he looks down at the broken glass littering the floor. "Sorry."
"Easily broken, easily fixed." Fawkes says, sitting back into his leather office chair. "In any case, it was false alarm. One of my bodyguards was having a malfunction with his cybernetics. But thank you for checking in on us."
Kid Wyvern glances at the cyborgs, receiving only the clicking of gilded optic sensors in response.
"Uh. Right." he says, obviously creeped out. "Well, if there's no problem, I'd better get going. Please don't sue us."
Your cybernetic ally has been taken out of commission, your attempt to disable the bodyguards has outright failed, and your heroic cavalry is a high schooler who apparently regards Fawkes as a rich uncle.
Time to improvise.
[ ] Consort(2d)| Fawkes can't kill you until Kid Wyvern leaves. Pretend to be the Heroes' biggest fan, ask for his autograph, anything to get him to stay long enough for you to think of a plan.
[ ] Sway(1d)| Convince the child that Fawkes and his bodyguard's have been hypnotized. If it works, the result should be entertaining to watch.
[ ] Study(2d)| Analyze Kid Wyvern for something you can use to better manipulate him. [Can be taken in tandem with other choices]
[ ] Write-in| State your Goal, and what Action you use
***
The bodygaurd that Philo Fawkes had dubbed "Number 2", was not having a good day. It felt like someone was filling his spine with battery acid via and eye dropper.
He never should have thrown his lot in with that child. It had been a stupid, stupid risk, and this was his payoff. Being dragged like a ragdoll by his "partner" into an elevator, on his way to being shot.
If he ever got his hands on that little shit...
The other hitman dropped him to the floor, and hit the little button marked "B".
Wonder what they'll do with my body. He thought to himself. The Fixer's will probably cut it up, hide the pieces in a new construction. I'm gonna end up the cornerstone of a high-rise.
If he could move, he would have chuckled.
The other hitman glared down at him, as the elevator descended.
"So much for being professional. I thought you said this would be an easy payday?"
Three little green dots popped into being, in the corner of his vision.
Wait. There's no way.
The words "System Rebooting" flashed across his eyelids, before an endless wave of green text began to scroll past.
Okay. So, the program said little shit had me download actually works. Sort of.
"How the hell did the kid pay you off? Don't you know what Fawkes does to traitors?"
"System Reboot: 49%" said the little green letters. The pain in his spine was starting to fade. He could just about move his toes.
"Like, gods, man. I respected you. I've heard legends about you. And now I'm gonna have to kill you. Ugh, this sucks."
"System Reboot: 99%". C'mon, C'mon. Of course, last percent always takes forever.
He couldn't move his neck, but going by the angle of the light through the glass elevator walls, they were getting close to the ground floor. And then the basement. He really, really didn't want to see the basement.
What does #2 do, when his implants reboot?
[ ] Skirmish(2d)| Fight #1(what's this idiot's name, anyway?) and snap his godsdamned neck.
[ ] Finesse(1d)| Jump him, and grab his gun.
[ ] Prowl(1d)| Play dead, wait until the idiot tries to pick you up, then sucker punch him.
[ ] Survey(1d)| Wait for a good opportunity, like when he's distracted, then make your move. [Can be taken in tandem with other choices]
[ ] Write-in| State your Goal, and what Action you use.
Philo:
#2
Study: 2
Consort: 2
Sway: 1
Command: 1
#2
Hunt: 1
Survey: 1
Tinker: 1
Skirmish: 2
Finesse: 1
Prowl: 1
Attune: 1
Command: 1
Going Up, part 4
Inkbones
No Glory Save Honor
- Location
- Where you can still smell the sky
"Oh my gods!" you slap your hands together and press them against your face. "You're Kid Wyvern! I'm your biggest fan."
Wyvern's face becomes a mask of resigned despair.
"Oh. Great. I'm always glad to meet a fan." Wyvern says in the most brutal monotone you've ever heard. "I'm guessing you want me to sign something?"
Okay, this isn't going to work. He's obviously bombarded by fans daily(being a celebrity is fate you wouldn't wish on anyone). You've just given him a better reason to leave.
The seconds crawl past as you desperately scan him for anything you can use-
Wait. You recognize him. Holy hels, you know his civilian identity. Matthew Penn, son of a wealthy stockbroker. There was something else, something about his brother-
"Sorry." you say after a moment, already launching. "I'm just a big admirer of the work you do. Stopping Ladon's Syndrome, that is."
A rather nasty debilitating disease, another unexplained byproduct of the Phenomena. His brother's been in a hospital bed for years now. It makes perfect sense that he'd use his superhero persona to campaign for a cure.
"Oh. Not a lot of people bring that up." He drifts inside, down to the floor. "They usually wanna hear about me punching bank robbers, or whatever. Sometimes I wonder why I bother."
You very gently, very slowly, lay a hand on his shoulder. "You're doing what you can to help people. There will always be people willing to punch thieves. Someone using their fame to genuinely help people, that's much rarer."
Fawkes is very, very pissed, but he hides it(badly), behind a smile. "Yes. Of course. Now, we better not keep this fine young superhero waiting. I'm sure he's got all sorts of important-"
"Um. Actually," Wyvern says, talking over your father. "I'm kinda supposed to stay and make sure nobody's been hypnotized. And my patrol just ended anyway."
"Well, how lucky." you say, grinning from ear to ear. "Me and Mr. Fawkes were just discussing making a charitable donation to the 'End Ladon's for Good' campaign."
The child-Hero's eyes widen. "Oh, really? Mr. Fawkes-I mean Baron, sir, that would be wonderful! You have no idea how many people this would help-" You take a lollipop from Fawkes' stash and hand it to Wyvern. "-oh, thanks. Anyway, there's this new therapy-"
As Wyvern hovers in front of Fawkes' desk, babbling excitedly, you watch a vein slowly begin to bulge in your father's temple as he maintains an increasingly strained grin.
You came here fantasizing about shooting your father in the kneecaps. You think you've discovered an even better form of torture; forcing him to pretend to be human.
The elevator slips below the ground floor, and the elevator doors open with a *ding.*
#2's parter-turned-executioner leans his head out the door, checking for witnesses, which turns out to be the exact wrong time to strike.
You jump to your feet and try to sink your fist into his gut, but he dodges with augmented speed, grabs your head from behind, and slams it into the elevator doorframe. You realize, too late, that you acted too soon.
One of the funny things about adrenaline is that it usually takes a second for pain to register. You hear your nose crunch like a can, several seconds before your face erupts into hot agony.
You fall to the ground, whipping out your gun. Unfortunately, so does he. He gets you in the shoulder, you get him in the knee. He falls to the ground, screaming, but he's not done yet.
"Electric Discharge: Enabled"
You grab the fucker by the ankle and pour as many volts as your implants can spare into him. He screams and jerks like a faulty animatronic, before something in the base of his neck sparks, and he lies still. Implants in his eyes glow green, blink red, then go dark. When you pull your hand back, the skin of your palm is so charred it's about to fall off.
You can't tell if he's dead or not, and frankly you don't care. Your nose is broken, your shoulder is bleeding,
Now what? You can't just leave the kid to his fate, as much as you'd like to. He gave you an offer you couldn't refuse.
Actions:
Philo:
[ ] Consort 2d| Tell Wyvern that something is wrong, without tipping off Fawkes or his guards
[ ] Study 2d| Look for a way to turn the tables on Fawkes, once something goes wrong.
[ ] Sway 1d| Convince Wyvern to fly you down to the bottom floor, then reunite with #2 in the basement. Preferably before he's shot.
[ ] Write-in| State what you do, and what Action you use to do it.
[ ] Push Yourself| Push past your limitations, for a price. +2 Stress.
-[ ] +1d
-[ ] +Position| Reduce the consequences of failure
-[ ] +Effect| Improve the results of success
#2
[ ] Prowl 1d| Sneak back up to the penthouse, think of a plan on the way.
[ ] Tinker 1d| Activate the fire alarm to cause a distraction.
[ ] Survey 1d| Look for a potential exit strategy, once you've got the kid and the package.
[ ] Write-in| State what you do, and what Action you use to do it.
[ ] Push Yourself| Push past your limitations, for a price. +2 Stress.
-[ ] +1d
-[ ] +Position| Reduce the consequences of failure
-[ ] +Effect| Improve the results of success
[ ] Resist Harm: Gain 0-5 Stress, reduce Lv. 2 Harm (Beaten and Bloody)(-1d) to Lv. 1 Harm (Grazed)(-1 Effect)
Wyvern's face becomes a mask of resigned despair.
"Oh. Great. I'm always glad to meet a fan." Wyvern says in the most brutal monotone you've ever heard. "I'm guessing you want me to sign something?"
Okay, this isn't going to work. He's obviously bombarded by fans daily(being a celebrity is fate you wouldn't wish on anyone). You've just given him a better reason to leave.
The seconds crawl past as you desperately scan him for anything you can use-
Wait. You recognize him. Holy hels, you know his civilian identity. Matthew Penn, son of a wealthy stockbroker. There was something else, something about his brother-
"Sorry." you say after a moment, already launching. "I'm just a big admirer of the work you do. Stopping Ladon's Syndrome, that is."
A rather nasty debilitating disease, another unexplained byproduct of the Phenomena. His brother's been in a hospital bed for years now. It makes perfect sense that he'd use his superhero persona to campaign for a cure.
"Oh. Not a lot of people bring that up." He drifts inside, down to the floor. "They usually wanna hear about me punching bank robbers, or whatever. Sometimes I wonder why I bother."
You very gently, very slowly, lay a hand on his shoulder. "You're doing what you can to help people. There will always be people willing to punch thieves. Someone using their fame to genuinely help people, that's much rarer."
Fawkes is very, very pissed, but he hides it(badly), behind a smile. "Yes. Of course. Now, we better not keep this fine young superhero waiting. I'm sure he's got all sorts of important-"
"Um. Actually," Wyvern says, talking over your father. "I'm kinda supposed to stay and make sure nobody's been hypnotized. And my patrol just ended anyway."
"Well, how lucky." you say, grinning from ear to ear. "Me and Mr. Fawkes were just discussing making a charitable donation to the 'End Ladon's for Good' campaign."
The child-Hero's eyes widen. "Oh, really? Mr. Fawkes-I mean Baron, sir, that would be wonderful! You have no idea how many people this would help-" You take a lollipop from Fawkes' stash and hand it to Wyvern. "-oh, thanks. Anyway, there's this new therapy-"
As Wyvern hovers in front of Fawkes' desk, babbling excitedly, you watch a vein slowly begin to bulge in your father's temple as he maintains an increasingly strained grin.
You came here fantasizing about shooting your father in the kneecaps. You think you've discovered an even better form of torture; forcing him to pretend to be human.
Consort: 5,1. Wyvern stays, but doesn't want to.
Study: 6,6. Learned secret identify, Wyvern is staying for the forseeable future.
Study: 6,6. Learned secret identify, Wyvern is staying for the forseeable future.
***
The elevator slips below the ground floor, and the elevator doors open with a *ding.*
#2's parter-turned-executioner leans his head out the door, checking for witnesses, which turns out to be the exact wrong time to strike.
You jump to your feet and try to sink your fist into his gut, but he dodges with augmented speed, grabs your head from behind, and slams it into the elevator doorframe. You realize, too late, that you acted too soon.
One of the funny things about adrenaline is that it usually takes a second for pain to register. You hear your nose crunch like a can, several seconds before your face erupts into hot agony.
You fall to the ground, whipping out your gun. Unfortunately, so does he. He gets you in the shoulder, you get him in the knee. He falls to the ground, screaming, but he's not done yet.
"Electric Discharge: Enabled"
You grab the fucker by the ankle and pour as many volts as your implants can spare into him. He screams and jerks like a faulty animatronic, before something in the base of his neck sparks, and he lies still. Implants in his eyes glow green, blink red, then go dark. When you pull your hand back, the skin of your palm is so charred it's about to fall off.
You can't tell if he's dead or not, and frankly you don't care. Your nose is broken, your shoulder is bleeding,
Now what? You can't just leave the kid to his fate, as much as you'd like to. He gave you an offer you couldn't refuse.
Survey: 3. Failure. Lose initiative.
Prowl: 2. Failure. Receive Lv. 1 Harm.
Hunt: 5. Trade damage. Receive Lv. 1 Harm.
Is #1 dead? 2d=3,4. No yet, but close.
Tinker: 4. Trade damage. Receive Lv. 1 Harm. Harms combine, upgrade to Lv. 2. #1 is dealt with.
Rolling for Phenomena: 91
Prowl: 2. Failure. Receive Lv. 1 Harm.
Hunt: 5. Trade damage. Receive Lv. 1 Harm.
Is #1 dead? 2d=3,4. No yet, but close.
Tinker: 4. Trade damage. Receive Lv. 1 Harm. Harms combine, upgrade to Lv. 2. #1 is dealt with.
Rolling for Phenomena: 91
Harm is one of the consequences characters receive from bad rolls. Because of the various wounds he incurred in his fight, #2 now has 1 Lv. 2 Harm, which means he makes each roll with 1 less die. As he only has 1 die in most of his Action, he will be at a severe disadvantage.
However, there are two things you can do about this, which both tie into Stress.
Stress is a mixture of luck and sanity. You can gain it to push the odds in your favor, along with other things. If gain more than 9 Stress, you receive a Trauma, a permanent psychological hangup for your characters.
You can Push Yourself, gaining 2 Stress but buffing your roll, either by gaining a die, reducing a potential consequence, or increasing the result of a potential success.
You can also Resist Consequences, gaining 0-5 Stress and either negating or reducing the result of failed roll.
However, there are two things you can do about this, which both tie into Stress.
Stress is a mixture of luck and sanity. You can gain it to push the odds in your favor, along with other things. If gain more than 9 Stress, you receive a Trauma, a permanent psychological hangup for your characters.
You can Push Yourself, gaining 2 Stress but buffing your roll, either by gaining a die, reducing a potential consequence, or increasing the result of a potential success.
You can also Resist Consequences, gaining 0-5 Stress and either negating or reducing the result of failed roll.
Actions:
Philo:
[ ] Consort 2d| Tell Wyvern that something is wrong, without tipping off Fawkes or his guards
[ ] Study 2d| Look for a way to turn the tables on Fawkes, once something goes wrong.
[ ] Sway 1d| Convince Wyvern to fly you down to the bottom floor, then reunite with #2 in the basement. Preferably before he's shot.
[ ] Write-in| State what you do, and what Action you use to do it.
[ ] Push Yourself| Push past your limitations, for a price. +2 Stress.
-[ ] +1d
-[ ] +Position| Reduce the consequences of failure
-[ ] +Effect| Improve the results of success
#2
[ ] Prowl 1d| Sneak back up to the penthouse, think of a plan on the way.
[ ] Tinker 1d| Activate the fire alarm to cause a distraction.
[ ] Survey 1d| Look for a potential exit strategy, once you've got the kid and the package.
[ ] Write-in| State what you do, and what Action you use to do it.
[ ] Push Yourself| Push past your limitations, for a price. +2 Stress.
-[ ] +1d
-[ ] +Position| Reduce the consequences of failure
-[ ] +Effect| Improve the results of success
[ ] Resist Harm: Gain 0-5 Stress, reduce Lv. 2 Harm (Beaten and Bloody)(-1d) to Lv. 1 Harm (Grazed)(-1 Effect)
Philo:
#2
Stress: 0/9
Harm: --/--/-
Study: 2
Consort: 2
Sway: 1
Command: 1
#2
Stress: 0/9
Harm: --/Lv. 2(Beaten and Bloody)(-1d)-/-
Hunt: 1
Survey: 1
Tinker: 1
Skirmish: 2
Finesse: 1
Prowl: 1
Attune: 1
Command: 1