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Project Prometheus (Original Setting Superhero Quest)

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Wing101r said:
Yeh or depending on what we get about reality check maybe SB if shes still the enemy there.

Knowing more about Prince would definately help in the diplo with Sparksurfer though.
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Or if we're feeling paranoid about White Tiger still (due to that ESP nat 1) we could investigate GDT if we feel like tackling PMMM next turn. Personally I'm for going Little Prince to boost our chances with Demon Flamez.
 
EternalObserver said:
Or if we're feeling paranoid about White Tiger still (due to that ESP nat 1) we could investigate GDT if we feel like tackling PMMM next turn. Personally I'm for going Little Prince to boost our chances with Demon Flamez.
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I think we can delay MG unless Reality check is too Dangerous or Something. That said if we take MG mission GDT Spiderweb is needed to make sure Tiger doesnt backstab us and to figure out Qilins Prep.

That Said I do think we need to take down either 3rd Person or The shroud next turn for bonus to rolls for fighting Crusade slander losing even more rep would suck.

The autopass is only for 1 trun afterall.
 
Warp Stalker: Psychic Swordsman
Red Huntress + Memoria + Millions Minefield + (Steadfast OR Soldier X + Daggermaw)

Leaning into the Energy Manipulation psychic blades with Millions adding some oomph, then either Steadfast for Defense or Soldier X and Daggermaw for Fitness and Senses boosts. Basically might end up as Magik/Ilyana Rasputin? Which I'm all for.
 
Daggermaw ensures we get a Synergy and That transformation is Retained for the scaling power. Soldier X if we get regen atleast gives some healing option. Might need to add Mr Hunch to make sure Clairvoyance is retained for RH Marks instead of Soldier X though.
 
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ScorpioSting said:
It already has two between Red Huntress and Memoria. Three might be overkill.
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Strenght/Clairvoyance synergy would eat up 1 for creating the synergy So X3 brought down to X2 is needed if we want another Clairvoyance power different from the synergy one in the synergy.

Since Memoria needs clairvoyance for teleport and RH for marking I just figure X3 is best for it.

Kinda like How DS has Clairvoyance as a Sub Power apart from Clairvoyance needed in Force Field. Since QM mentioned he was being nice about that giving us Forcefield with Clairvoyance and Ally Empowerment. Since DS build only had Enough Clairvoyance and Ally Empowerment to create Force Field Manipulation.
 
I'm personally with Wing on this one. An additional Clairvoyance helps a lot with not just with Red Huntress with its marking but also Memoria with deciphering precise travel location.
 
ScorpioSting said:
It already has two between Red Huntress and Memoria. Three might be overkill.
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Gotta consider how the powers actually work though. We know Red Huntress is good at adding focusing elements to powers, Mr Hunch would likely add the ability to make items into relays/teleport points or something in that vein.

Its mostly a question of how Millions would play out here given Daggermaw's stacking senses and introducing strength is useful enough to be core regardless. Since Millions is all about helping convert energy first and foremost it helps Red Huntress' scaling and so is locked in as well, its just a question of if that effects focusing the power at all. Since if not, there probably should be Hunch over Soldier X just so the build has enough focus on enhancing how the teleport works and with Soldier X being the most otherwise extraneous power.
 
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Temes1066 said:
Is this PreCrusade Stockpile, lamenting the fact he didn't gett into contact with us?

Or is this Stockpile of nowadays lamenting letting the Horae Guard get away with so much shit?
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100% it's Silvio waiting for a reply Lady Leizi never sent, when we never took his mission.

But yeah, he's grown more accustomed to failure since. Whatever comes next, I was thinking of the line "That taste of ash has become all too familiar, in the months since."
 
ProfessorB said:
Right, here's my attempt at mapping all of the power overlaps


Kind of broke down at the end but it does help me visualize. Hope you like it

And I do read, by the way, I see every time Leizi thinks "We can be more". It is a good message. It's just, do we really have to be more every single time? At this level of stakes?
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I have studied this chart here that you generously provided and I have come to this conclusion
 
Loremaster said:
I mean... a lot of heroes have been killers! I mean just look at (points at pretty every single mythology in history)
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There's a difference between the "superhero" idea of heroes and "heroes" as they appeared in classics. Being a "hero" there was more about being larger than life---big deeds, big flaws, big consequences. Oedipus a classical hero. Achilles was a classical hero. Hercules was a classical hero, and he was an unrepentant rapist! It meant something different back then as compared to now.

Here, heroes are more in the Superman mold: great people with great power, always trying to do the right thing.
 
Bitterman said:
Here, heroes are more in the Superman mold: great people with great power, always trying to do the right thing.
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Oof 😅 I mean don't get me wrong that's great!... But also it sounds exhausting! I can see why the majority of superpower people choose to be mercenary's using your powers for good is one thing, but holding that kind of moral high ground all the time no matter what?! THAT would genuinely kill me if I'm honest
 
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I mean, so far, putting aside Maddie's pre-recruitment rampage (and beginning when the quest starts so not the backstory) we're only responsible for one death, Primptemp's, and we had no idea of the power link at that point (and Scarlet Maturity was shooting to kill himself so Mona has self defense).
 
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Issue # 3.7: Eidolon pt. 1 New
  • Threadmarks
    • [X] Approach this like a lunch.

    [X] Plan: Basics
    -[X] Give a shield generator to Menagerie Witch, Lady Leizi, Doctor Silver, and have Lady Leizi hold onto the fourth shield generator and symbiote to give to Yara and/or her bodyguard if necessary.

    Horizon, City of Leviathan's Rest–The Apiary– January 26, 2068

    You don't often remember your dreams, but, tonight, the visions in your sleep are especially vivid.

    Your body is weightless as you float in the past, a passenger to events as they play out before you. You see yourself back at the Bastion, all those years ago. It was a tiny base, barely large enough for the original seven of you. And that was including Eve, who had no physical presence.

    Your "conference room" back then was a circular table Rakeem and Nora had crammed into the basement. It didn't quite fit, so Nora had sawed off the lower third of it so you could position it such that you could all comfortably sit around it.

    You see a much younger version of yourself, lounging and laughing while everyone else looks uncomfortable. You remember this day—it was the day after Ronin had destroyed the last stronghold of the Ghost Dragon Triad and killed your father. You had breezily announced his passing earlier that morning, and that afternoon Nora had called a mandatory meeting.

    You see your best friend sitting at the head of the table, opposite the flat end. She looks unusually grave. Rosemary looks nervous, while Rakeem is unreadable as always. Harper gossips with Eve, while Yazmin doesn't take her eyes off you, her gaze firm.

    You see the younger-you roll your eyes at Yazmin. You hadn't cared for her at first. Her idealism grated on you; her instance of what a "hero" was felt insincere and naive. She not only grew up with money, but was the heiress to the largest megacorportaion in the world. Her life was an endless series of her own preferences. How could she possibly understand how the world worked?

    How little you knew.

    "Alright," Nora says, rubbing her face, "You're probably wondering why I called this meeting. Well, Ronin finally fucking did it—the Ghost Dragon Triad is dead. And their leader with it."

    ". . . yay?" Eve offers, bored.

    "Their leader was Zixuan's dad."

    "Oh fuck."

    "Zixuan," Rosemary says, turning to you. Her compound eyes are filled with sympathy. "I'm so sorry."

    "Oh, don't be," you laugh, unable to contain your mirth, "I've had the celebratory party planned for a week now. Naturally, you're all invited"

    She tilts her head in confusion. "You . . . what?"

    "She knew he was going to die," Yazmin says, still looking at you, "Because she's the one who hired Ronin to kill him."

    "As if, darling," you scoff, "Dear Akane was more than happy to do it pro bono. I merely facilitated the interaction."

    "You . . . got your dad killed?" Rosemary says, hesitantly, "That's . . ."

    "A problem," Uiara finishes, "That's not how we do things here. We don't kill people. We're not assassins."

    She scowls and shakes her head at you.

    "I'm disappointed, Zixuan. I thought you left this sort of thing behind you. I thought you were really a hero. Now . . . I'm not so sure."

    Your younger self flinches. You would have rather died than admit it, but Yazmin's words cut deep that day.

    "My word, the theatrics!" you shout, "Does the great Uiara disapprove of eliminating an entire organized criminal enterprise in one fell swoop? I'll inform the masses freed from menace of the Triad that they should be upset about their change in circumstances. The poor dears must mistakenly believe this to be a good thing!"

    You let out a mocking laugh and look around the table for support. Rakeem's gaze is hard and he shakes his head. Rosemary is clasping her four hands together. Harper is watching the disapproving Uiara, while Eve seems uninterested.

    You turn to Nora, who you know must understand. But your leader just runs her hand through her hair before addressing you.

    "This is your one, Zi. This is it."

    "I haven't the faintest what you mean—"

    "Don't fuck around," Nora says, cutting you off, "Your dad was a shitbag? You knew for certain he needed to go? Fine. You've known him your whole life. I'll trust your judgement on that. But this is it."

    She leans forward. Now, you can see how much saying these words hurt her. How much she hated talking to you like this. But, back then, it felt like a betrayal of the highest order.

    "But you will never be able to be that certain that someone needs to die again. No more killing. Whether you hold the knife or not. If you do, you're off NuGen. Am I clear?"

    Your cheeks flush. Your jaw drops in shock. She . . . she's threatening to make you leave? Now? Over this?

    "You can't—"

    "Am I clear or not, Lady Leizi?"

    You feel moisture bead in the corners of your eyes and then feel a true, deep sense of humiliation as you realize how much Nora's ultimatum scares you. You stand up quickly.

    "As a bell," and you stiffly turn to leave.

    "Zixuan," Yazmin calls after you.

    "Oh, I believe I've heard quite enough from you," you snarl.

    Back then, it felt like everyone was against you. Just as you were beginning to belong, just as you were starting to feel safe, just as you started to feel something inside your chest but fear and pain, they threatened to take it away from you.

    "Curious. I saw Nora's mouth moving, but I heard Uiara's words," you continue, "My, did you crawl into her bed just to put her up to this? Seems like you've gotten over your most recent spat rather quickly. Why, I wonder?"

    Uiara's jaw tightens, but her gaze doesn't waiver.

    "Why so concerned, anyway? Are you afraid I'll get caught? Afraid I'll tarnish Uiara's sterling reputation by association, hmmm? Afraid—"

    "I'm afraid it's too easy," Yazmin says, "I'm afraid it's a simple, quick way to make problems go away."

    There's a loud silence in the room.

    You clear your throat to hide your unease at her words. "Sounds all like positives to me! Easy, quick, efficient—"

    "And permanent, Zixuan," Yazmin says levelly, "You kill somebody, and that's the end of it. Their past, their mistakes, their future? The book's closed. And there's no taking it back."

    "Again, a virtue!" you protest, "It sounds like a roadmap for all of NuGen's future operations!"

    "Then you would be dead!"

    Yazmin is on her feet now, her words vibrating through the room.

    "None of us knew who you were when we first met. You were a crime lord involved in the drug trade, for crying out loud! You looked like a monster! If that's how we operated, we would have just killed you."

    She shakes her head, very slowly, eyes still boring holes in you. Her voice is tight.

    "We never would have known who you are. That you could be more," She swallows, hard. "We wouldn't even have known how much to regret it."

    She breaks eye contact and swallows again. Now, as the woman you are, it's so obvious how badly she wants to reach you. How much the thought of never having met you tears her up inside. How were you ever so blind that you couldn't see it?

    "Heroes don't do the easy thing. We do the right thing. Because, no matter how hard it is, the right thing is always the best thing in the long run."

    You didn't understand those words that day. You . . . you're still not sure you fully do. But you can see the wisdom in them now, born of one woman's innate goodness. You want to tell Yazmin she's right and that you understand why this happened. That you're upset now, but you can see how she's upset too. That she's only doing this because she loves you.

    But you can't say anything, because, even as you try to form the words to speak in your dream, the scene dissolves before your eyes.

    Suddenly, it's months later. There's an emergency call in the Uni District, and you and Yazmin are the only two available to respond.

    The scene is tense when you arrive. An office building downtown has been turned into a whirling kaleidoscope of painted color. Attempts to enter are met with daggers of red and orange, as the dozens of injured individuals can attest. Yet, apparently, there are even more trapped inside.

    Man o' War is already there, four extra arms sprouting out of his body. He sports a bloodthirsty grin.

    "Oh, good. The children are here," he scoffs, "Leave. I'm about to have some fun, and I don't need Arc in my ear if you get in the way and get hurt."

    "What's the sitrep?" Yazmin askes, unphased.

    "Tch," he scoffs again, rolling his eyes, "Some loon got fired and went postal. Apparently, he was a metahuman. He's got hostages in there, and no one can get close. But, don't worry. I'm just ramping up. Once I'm ready, I'll be more than happy to solve the problem."

    "Ah, well have at it then," you say with a dismissive wave of your hands. This situation was not well-suited to your talents. But, as you turn to go, you see Uiara staring at the building.

    "He was fired . . ." she murmurs under her breath, "This is an English-McLeod office, isn't it?"

    "I believe it is. So?" you ask, impatiently.

    She gives you a small smile, "The great Lady Leizi doesn't already know something? Today is a special day then."

    You fume, but she goes back to building.

    "English-McLeod is mostly construction and real estate. A lot of their jobs include housing, complete with furnishing, as part of the compensation. But it's contingent on staying employed with them . . ."

    ". . . so if this man was fired, then he's likely lost everything," you finish.

    ". . . yeah," she says with her eyes closed, "Probably thinks the world is ending."

    "Well, if our multi-armed friend has anything to say about it, he'll only need to feel that way for a few minutes longer."

    Yazmin wets her lips. "Lady Leizi . . . can you go on overwatch for me?"

    "Darling, what exactly are you planning?" you say, incredulous, "No one can even approach that building."

    She walks forward with her hand raised. A strand of red shots out and pierces her palm, but fails to break her super-durable skin.

    "I think . . . I think the colors react to emotion. His emotions. I just need to convince him I'm not a threat, and I can get through."

    "Or he could just kill you faster," you say, "Please do not make me explain to Valiant Silver later why her lover is now a pincushion!"

    Yazmin looks back at you and smiles again. "Oh, you didn't hear? We broke up."

    Then she walks into the building.

    "Again?!" you shout after her, but she's already gone. All you can do is watch her through her camera.

    The colors are even more vibrant in the building, a swirling mass of constantly shifting light and pigment. A spike of red, larger than you are, falls from the ceiling and bites deep into Yazmin's collarbone, drawing blood.

    "I'm . . . not going to hurt you," she says out loud, "I promise. No matter what you do to me, I won't hurt you."

    She grabs the red, pulls it out of her, and marches forward.

    More colors strike her, jagged reds, swirling blues, spiraling greens, each digging deeper wounds and drawing more blood. But Yazmin is undeterred, her face calm. She never raises a hand in protest, never calls a flood to strike her foe.

    She will not hurt him.

    The colors frenzy, hitting Yazmin over and over again, until she resembles little more than hamburger meat. But still, she does not fight back.

    And then . . . they slow down. The attacks become less frequent, and then stop. Yazmin marches up several flights of stairs, and finds herself in a sea of cubicles.

    There, in the middle, sits a crying man covered in paint. He's cowering under his desk. Yazmin limps over and crouches down.

    "Hello," she says gently, "I'm Uiara."

    ". . . I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry—"

    "Shh. Shhhh. It's okay. It's all going to be okay."

    "It's not!" he shrieks and the colors go wild, "I didn't mean it! I l-liked my job! I came to work, everyone l-left me alone, and t-then I could go home to p-paint!"

    "I see," Yazmin says looking around at the furious colors, "You're very good. You must practice a lot."

    "E-everyday . . ." he stutters, "I . . . I can't talk to people. They d-don't understand me. They don't hear me. But when I paint . . . it's like I can let everyone know how I feel."

    He looks around at the melting world around him.

    "Then one day, I realized I could make the colors leave the canvas. They could really tell people how I felt! I-It was my secret for so long, but I was so happy . . . but now it's a curse."

    "What happened?" Yazmin says softly.

    "Ms. Fitzpatrick . . . she said my department was 'r-redundant'. A-asked why I thought I should keep my job. I tried to tell her . . . but I couldn't explain it right. So she fired me. Then I thought, m-maybe if I can't say it with words, I can show her? I-I brought the paint to work and made the colors, but then she just started screaming. S-she called security and they started h-hiting me. So I p-panicked."

    "And then this happened," Yazmin finishes, "The colors reflect your feelings. All of them."

    "I-I hurt people!" he wails, "I'm so sorry! I . . . I'm a bad guy. P–please, get everyone out of here."

    "Okay," Yazmin agrees, "But what about you?"

    "I can't go to Wonderland. I can't. J-just get everyone out of here and . . . I'll take care of myself."

    "I see," Yazmin says, "No."

    "N-no?!"

    "No," she repeats," I can't let you do that. And I won't let you go to Wonderland either."

    She looks around, at the colors around her.

    "You have a gift. I can see how you feel right now, how much pain you're in. I'm so sorry no one came to help you sooner."

    She looks at him.

    "And, it's going to be hard—so hard—but you can come back from this. You have to pay your dues for what you did, but a person isn't defined by who they are at rock bottom so long as they are willing to climb back up."

    "I-I . . ."

    "Hey, can I ask a favor?"

    "Y-yeah?"

    "Can I give you a hug?"

    It would be an hour later, once the colors had all faded away and the terrified workers excavated, that you would find the man sobbing into the wounded Yazmin's costume.

    She was as good as her word too. He did five years in an Ọsanyin detention facility, but he did eventually get out. Whatever became of him, you wonder—?

    The scene shifts again. It's a week later.

    You had never seen Yazmin so seriously injured before. Of all your teammates, only Adamant with his metal form and Rosemary with her multiple bodies were more resistant to harm. Punching Yazmin was like punching an old tire—you might be doing something, but it was imperceptible to your senses.

    Yet, there she lay in the infirmary, body swaddled in bandages. She and Nora made up in record time; a fact you all learned when you all walked in on Nora on top of Yazmin in her sick bed, both half-naked.

    The woman who was Valiant Silver fussed like a mother hen until Yazmin scolded her for neglecting her duties, and then life at the Bastion largely returned to normal. For everyone, that is, except The Red Huntress.

    Harper has always struck you as an airhead. A bubbly, sheltered child with fluff between her ears. With her vapid disposition and lackluster power, you assumed she was only allowed to join NuGen because of her connection to Yazmin. But, as they say, still waters ran deep.

    With Yazmin injured, Harper's sunny smile disappeared. She slowly started to grow irritable and defensive over any perceived slight. She wouldn't leave her room for days at a time, and she would demand you answer a series of increasingly complicated and invasive personal questions before she would even so much as have a conversation with you.

    It was, as Nora so eloquently put it after an incident where the feline heroine blew up at Eve, fucking daffy. So much so, that you decided to start digging into Harper's past. Clearly, there was something you had missed.

    Now, it's the very night after you started asking around about one Harper English. You awake in your bed to a sharp stinging sensation on your chest. You fumble for the light, and, once it clicks on, you see a symbol made of three claw marks tattooed on your breast.

    Harper stands above you in the room.

    "Zixuan, s-stop asking questions, okay? Okay?" she says, her eyes panicked. She looks terrible. Her hair is lank and unwashed, her face is devoid of any of her usual cosmetics, there are deep bags under her eyes, "Stop it! You don't understand what you're doing. Y-you're going to ruin everything!"

    "What is this?!" you demand, swiping at the mark on your chest, "What are you doing in here?"

    How had she even gotten in? You lock your door at night, unless . . . was she waiting here, invisible, for you this whole time?!

    "It's just until I'm sure you're not looking anymore, okay? Okay?!" she shouts, eyes wild, "Please. I-I'm finally happy. I'm finally safe. Don't keep looking!"

    "Or what?" you say, unable to resist the implied challenge in her voice.

    ". . . that's what the mark is for."

    And with that, she disappears from sight. You don't sleep the rest of the night, carefully inspecting every inch of your room for Harper's presence. Even when you find nothing over and over again, you remain on guard.

    You consider going to Nora with your issue—surely, if she would threaten you with expulsion over your indiscretion, this would be enough to remove that lunatic—before discarding the idea. You are no child, hiding behind your mother's skirts. However, there is one person who might be able to give you insight to your new foe.

    Which is why you find yourself outside Yazmin's room in the infirmary. You knock on it and let yourself in.

    "Oh . . . Zixuan" she says, admirably hiding her confusion. You hadn't been to see her since she initially woke up, after all.

    "Explain why your mad best friend stuck this on my chest," you say, exposing the mark, "And why I shouldn't just erase her."

    Yazmin tries to sit up before wincing in pain and falling back. "She put that on you? Why?"

    "Because I asked some questions about her childhood," you shout, "Now, what is it?!"

    Yazmin lets out a shaky breath. "Her power. You know she's normally super agile, can turn invisible, has better senses than normal people, right? Well, that mark is her main power. She can put it on a target and then she'll always know where they are. And . . . she gets more powerful based on how strong the person she's tagged is."

    ". . . excuse me?!"

    "It's fine, it's fine!" Yazmin tries to reassure you, "I'll talk to her. She'll take it off."

    "I'm more concerned about why she put it on me in the first place," you spit. Then, as an afterthought, "And why was I not made aware of the true nature of her powers?"

    ". . . because no one except me knows," Uiara says, putting her head in her hands, "Including Nora. Shit."

    You can see how your younger self is mollified at the idea of having been given secret information. Leviathan's Blood, were you truly that simple to win over?

    Yazmin gestures to a chair next to the bed. You graciously sit.

    "What I'm about to tell you can't leave this room, okay? Promise me, Zixuan."

    "I promise."

    "Promise me and mean it," she growls, "I'm betraying a friend's trust. The least you could do is take this seriously."

    You frown and look at her, consideringly.

    "Very well," you say, mostly meaning it, "I will keep it confidential for now."

    Yazmin sits back and blows air out of her nose. "Fine, I guess that's the best I'm going to get. Okay, I've known Harper since we were . . . nine? Ten? We met at one of the million little social galas our parents expected us to attend."

    "Ah, so 'Harper English' is one of those Englishs then?"

    "English-McLeod, yeah," Yazmin confirms, "I think . . . her great-uncle owns half the company? Her parents are small-time players in the family, but they still go with the rest of the clan to charity balls and the like. Anyway, that's where I met Harper."

    Yazmin looks up, lost in memory. "She was the only kid who wasn't trying to cosy up to me because of my last name. So, naturally, we became best friends. She taught me how to put on make-up, we started eating lunch together at school, having sleepovers, everything kids do. I was shocked at how much she ate for lunch, and she practically lived at my house with how often she spent the night. Then . . . I went over to dinner at her place."

    Yazmin's brow furrows. "She never had me over before. There was always some kind of excuse. But one day her driver was sick and so her mother had to pick her up from school herself . . . so I invited myself over."

    She shrugs. "I was curious."

    You hate that you can relate to that feeling.

    "So, I get over there and, immediately, something is off. Her parents are normal for all of five minutes before going blank and hardly acknowledging us. They went back to normal when it was time for dinner . . . but that was odd too. Harper spent the whole day saying she wasn't hungry and begging not to eat, but her mom grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to the table."

    You get a sinking feeling in your stomach.

    "Then, the food came out. It was rotten. All of it. The smell was unbearable."

    Yazmin scrunches her face at the memory.

    "But her parents didn't even react to it. They gave the plates of the disgusting food to Harper and told her to 'eat every bite'. I was a little freaked out and tried to tell them that it had gone bad. But they didn't get it . . . it was like the concept wasn't registering with them."

    Yazmin's expression turns stormy. "Harper started crying and begging to skip dinner 'just for tonight'. So, her dad walked over and slapped her so hard she fell out of her chair."

    Your breath hitches. This is hitting too close to home for you.

    "I went ballistic. I . . . kind of had a temper. Have a temper. Whatever. I tackled her dad, punched him in the face, and grabbed Harper and we ran as fast as we could outside. Eventually, I called my avó to come get us. I didn't let Harper go home that night, or for the next month."

    Yazmin looks at her hand, clenching and unclenching it.

    "That was apparently normal for her. It's why she always gorged herself during the day; because she wasn't being fed edible food at home. It's also why she knew about make-up. She had to hide the bruises. She told me not to ask any questions and let it go, but . . . I couldn't. I went to Avó, told her what was happening, and begged if we could get someone to investigate Harper's parents. But, as soon as we did, their behavior changed."

    She looks up at you.

    "They came and apologized. Said things would be different. They were still stiff and creepy and weird, but things did get better for Harper. She started to gain weight at least. And she kept pleading with me to let it go. She wouldn't say why except, 'Mom and Dad weren't always like this'. She was so, so terrified I gave her my word. And I'd promised I'd be there for her."

    You don't say anything. You feel sick in your stomach.

    "It was a relief when she turned out to be a metahuman too. She could always be by my side and I could keep my promise. But, now that we're in NuGen she's . . . she's getting better. She doesn't freak out if I'm not around, she's making friends, she's happy. I think she finally feels safe."

    Yazmin turns to you with burning eyes, and you know you'll agree to whatever she asks next of you.

    "So, please. I'll take care of it. Just let it go, and don't make Harper leave. I'll bear the responsibility. Please?"

    You consider her words for a long movement and then let out a long breath.

    ". . . so you've just let this dark secret in her past go unexamined then? And you want me to do the same."

    "Yes," she says, guilelessly, "She'll come to us when she's ready. Have faith. So . . .?"

    You close your eyes. You can't believe you're going to say this, but, ". . . very well. But this mark comes off, now."

    "Of course. And, um, please let me tell Nora what I told you? She's going to be pissed I kept this from her, but it will be better coming from me."

    "Just get the mark off, Uiara!"

    "Yes, yes, of course!"

    The mark did come off. And Yazmin did talk with Harper who, though never exactly apologized, was careful to not offend you. Her behavior did get better, less erratic, and you honestly . . . felt bad for her.

    You understood the pain one's parent's could cause.

    But now, you know that it wasn't really her parents at all, was it? They were likely clones, made by her sister. Had Socialite Butterfly created them and ordered them to treat Harper that way? Why? If so, it was easy to understand why Harper acted the way she did—how could she be certain the person she was talking to wouldn't be replaced by a copy who hated her?

    You try to tell your younger self this—you try to take control of the dream—but there is a burning light behind your eyes growing brighter. You feel like your vision is simultaneously blurring and growing sharper. You squeeze your eyes shut, open them—

    —and wake up.

    You sit up in your bed, the blankets pooling around your nude form. It has been some time since you've had a dream that vivid about the past. You supposed it's because of what you have planned today:

    Meeting Yazmin's little sister. And possibly fighting Harper's older sister.

    * * *​

    Your morning routine gives you ample time to organize your thoughts. As you quickly show and take care of hygiene, you think about the task in front of you.

    Yazmin's final wish was that you protect her sister. Her sister, who now owned a tenth of the largest megacorporation in the world. Her sister, who's shares were the last piece her father needed to take control of said megacorporation. And her sister, who's father is one of the major backers of Crusade. Crusade, who's veneer of "impartial heroism" grows thinner by the day.

    Honestly, you would probably have a vested interest in her safety even if she wasn't related to one of your departed friends. As is, however, you have little idea what to expect.

    You know next to nothing about her. Yazmin spoke about her all of three times while you knew her, one of which was her posthumous video. You don't even know what the relationship between the two of them was like.

    Clearly the woman who was Uiara cared enough about her sister to name herself after her, to hire metahumans to protect her, and to beg you to watch after her. But then, why did she never bring her to the Apiary? Even for a visit? Did she at least send birthday presents? Christmas cards? You simply don't know.

    You do know from Gabriel that she appeared to have a sweet, meek disposition and wanted to know more about her sister. You suppose you'll have to work with that. At least she agreed to the meeting readily enough.

    You grumpily stare at yourself in the mirror and are pleasantly surprised by what you see. You're recovered from your injuries after the Movement splendidly. You've regained your old form—no, you're in better shape than you've ever been before. You flex your hand and lightning crackles across your knuckles.

    You smile. Frequent use of your powers has always agreed with you.

    You get dressed and review what you've done so far to prepare for this meeting. The first order of business was to ensure no one knew you were coming. Should Jair learn you were meeting with his daughter, he no doubt would put two and two together and realize that his opportunity is slipping through his fingers. Crusade would almost certainly invent another casus belli and find an excuse to oppose you.

    So, they couldn't know you were coming.

    DC 15 - 3 (You are Lady Leizi) = DC 12.

    Stat Check: ESPIONAGE 35. Justice Unlimited has a collective ESPIONAGE 40.

    You rolled: 10.

    10 + 2 = 12. Success!

    You considered having Ronin feed them bad information, but you risked blowing her cover by playing that particular card too often. Instead, you tapped the newest member of your staff: Chihiro.

    She booked Justice Unlimited for eight different speaking engagements, all scheduled to happen at the same time in different parts of Horizon. She then called each engagement and excoriated them for booking Justice Unlimited at a time where you were already engaged to speak elsewhere. She then hired a number of sockpuppet accounts to report seeing various members of your team on patrol in different parts of the city.

    The end result was that someone trying to track your movement would have too many leads to try to follow. You were hiding in the noise, as it were. You can't help but be impressed; the plan was professional, elegant, and worthy of Justice Unlimited. Hiring Chihiro has already paid dividends.

    The fact that OCN has been inundated with angry letters from viewers for "insulting and pushing out their blazing star"—including a series of very angry, very public voicemails from Warpstar of all people—is merely a bonus.

    However, Jair was not your only concern. Or even your primary concern.

    Belle Sabreuse told Wolong that a number of people had tried to abduct Yara, on multiple occasions. Including some low-level metahumans. The would-be abductors were simple, unable to easily improvise, and seemingly unemotive. Additionally, Belle Sabreuse seemed certain she had killed one man, only for him to reappear, unharmed, during the next attempt. It was as if he were a disposable product, replaced as soon as he broke.

    As if he were a clone.

    You can't help the shiver that runs down your spine. You haven't felt a sense of foreboding this strong since you willingly walked into an ambush by Scarlet Maturity.

    A power copier. Socialite Butterfly is a power copier. She could create clones of other people, including metahumans and their powers.

    And she has been active, undetected, for years.

    Harper was . . . thirty-two when she died? Just about. Her sister was twelve years older than her. Assuming her powers first developed around eighteen, that was twenty-six years she was active. God knows whose powers she had access too and what kind of connections she had. And, as vile and spiteful though she may be, she was smart to remain incognito this whole time.

    Yes, Socialite Butterfly is who scares you. Which was why it was vital you find some inkling of her movements and conceal your own from her.

    DC 15.

    Stat Check: ESPIONAGE 55. Justice Unlimited has a collective ESPIONAGE 40.

    You rolled: 3.

    3 - 7 = -4. Critical Failure!

    But unfortunately she appeared to be a ghost. You could find no trace of her existence, no hint of her agents, not even the smallest lead. If it weren't for Belle Sabreuse describing the exact kind of agent that Harper said her sister created, you might be tempted to conclude that your teammate was simply insane and she had no evil power-copying, older sister.

    How simple that would be.

    No, you would simply have to assume that Socialite Butterfly existed and would be behind any further attacks on Yara.

    Which is why everyone was coming to lunch. Everyone.

    * * *​

    Horizon, City of Leviathan's Rest–Somewhere in the Foot– January 26, 2068

    As you travel to the arranged rendezvous point in the Foot, you realize that Justice Unlimited is back to the size it was before the Movement: seven metahumans. That is not even counting Dr. Ibis or Mendicant, who were affiliates and non-combatants.

    It's a strange feeling. You, Black Swan, Menagerie Witch, Handyman, Châtelet, Doctor Silver, and Valiant Gold were a formidable force and was a match for the old roster of Valiant Silver, Uiara, yourself, The Red Huntress, Adamant, Moon River, and Radiant Silvergirl.

    True, you lacked a true Algernon-type like Nora—Dr. Ibis notwithstanding—but pound-for-pound your current roster was mightier than the original line up. Only Radiant Silvergirl or Nora in her EXCEED armor could hope to match Black Swan and Valiant Gold, and that was without factoring in the defensive capabilities of Châtelet and Doctor Silver, the infinite flexibility of Handyman, and Menagerie Witch's hoards.

    . . . the only constant was that you were the weak link on both incarnations. You really must take John Henry up on his offer to build you a weapon.

    You arrive at the spot, a few miles from Yara's current residence, and find an old man reading a newspaper waiting for you. His skin is the color of dried coffee, but he gives you a crooked grin and whistles the tune you and Handyman agreed upon earlier that day.

    You sit down next to him.

    "Hehe, didn't think I'd be the first to arrive," Handyman says, his voice withered, "Usually you're punctual to a fault Double L."

    "I had to spend some time picking out my outfit," you say dryly.

    And you did, actually. You're not wearing your usual costume. Instead, you're in a black pencil skirt and sleeveless, white blouse.

    Seven metahumans all traveling together in costume would be much too noticeable. Instead, you're all traveling in smaller groups in casual outfits, save Handyman who can change his appearance at will.

    The two of you wait, and, after just a few minutes, a sedan pulls up to the curb, driven by a white-knuckled Châtelet.

    She gets out of the car green faced, mumbling. "I hate driving, I hate driving, I hate driving, I especially hate driving with John Henry in the car."

    "You needed to go slow; I told you!" he shouts from the passenger seat. A large crockpot sits in his lap and two more pots sit at his feet. "Sandra made jerk chicken, oxtail, and curry goat! She will skin me alive if it all spills before we eat it!"

    "It wasn't going to spill, you were holding it!"

    "You don't know that! You can't be cautious enough—where is the rice and peas and the callaloo?!"

    "Right here, Doctor R!" Black Swan calls from the back seat, "Maddie's got them. And I've got my mom's lasagna!"

    You can't help but laugh at John Henry's worry. Since you weren't sure how to approach this lunch, you decided to treat it as, well, a lunch. And, since you didn't want to leave a trail of restaurant orders for anyone to follow, your only solution was to provide the food yourself. Something Sandra treated as a personal challenge.

    Black Swan begins to float out the car before an overburdened Menagerie Witch grabs her shirt and pulls her down. Two massive containers of hot food sit in her lap.

    "Mona, ix-nay the owers-pay!" the summoner hisses while Barkavious woofs in agreement. Mittens meows irritably from a pet carrier, and Nevermore caws from the top of the car. You can't see the rest of her pets, but you know Apep and Shelob are somewhere.

    "Sorry! I keep forgetting! How did I ever walk everywhere?! It's—holy poop.

    Black Swan's jaw drops as there's a loud whine as Valiant Gold pulls up on a borrowed motorcycle. She pulls her helmet off, and her wavy hair bounces free. She kicks the kickstand and gets up, stretching her arms as far as they'll go in her black leather jacket.

    "Wow. Wow. Wow. Ohmigosh. Ohmigosh."

    "Guys, we broke Mona," Menagerie Witch calls, "Cool jacket, Ellie!"

    "Ohimgosh, I'm so totally bi."

    "Thank you . . ." Valiant Gold says, blinking, "But you're the one who gave it to me to wear?"

    "And I was totally right to do so. See I told you! You're a natural for the rocker-chick look. Right, Mona?"

    "I can't breathe."

    "Wow, sweet hog, Ellie!" Handyman calls in his regular voice, "Where'd you get it?"

    "It's Uncle Gabriel's . . . he's ridden it maybe once? There's less than a hundred miles on the odometer. And it's a motorcycle, not a pig?"

    "'Hog' means 'motorcycle', VG," Handyman says.

    "I see. I have much to learn," she says with a gleam in her eye.

    She reaches into the cycle's storage bag and pulls out a large box of food. "Egg rolls. My mom and I used to make them. We're close enough to the Spring Festival that it felt appropriate."

    "It seems we were of a mind," you say, pulling out your own soup dumplings, "Though, mine are purchased. I'm not much of a cook."

    ". . . this is going to be the weirdest potluck, "Châtelet sighs. She has a large bowl of salad with her, "Wait, Rhys, what did you bring?"

    "The most important thing!" he says with a grin. He reaches down and slaps a large cooler next to him.

    "I bought the drinks!"

    * * *​

    Yara's current home was a modest house on a hill, surrounded by foliage and overlooking the Foot proper. Given what you know about property values in the area, it was probably worth more money than what you've invested into Project Prometheus to date. The trek is a pleasant walk uphill, and you find a suitably secluded area for everyone to change.

    Doctor Silver erects opaque barriers for everyone to change behind, but Handyman merely transforms into his base state and Valiant Gold dons the EXCEED-BEYOND in an instant. While you help Châtelet with the straps of her armor, they go to scout ahead.

    DC 12.

    Stat Check: OPERATIONS 10. Valiant Gold and Handyman have a combined OPERATIONS 12.

    ?????? uses ?????????? ????????????

    AUTO-FAIL

    By the time everyone else is in costume, the two of them return.

    "All clear," Handyman says, "Looks like all this sneaking around paid off."

    "Excellent," you say, adjusting your coat on your shoulders. Then, you frown, "Valiant Gold, what's wrong?"

    Said heroine is still staring into trees. ". . . sorry. Handyman's right, there's nothing ahead. It's just . . ."

    "Yes? What is it?" you ask.

    ". . . instinct. Something is tingling at the back of my skull, but I don't know what."

    "Well, that's fucking ominous," Menageire Witch growls," I'll get a few clones ready."

    "Not yet!" Châtelet yelps, "We're coming as guests! Don't do anything that might freak them out or make them think we're a threat."

    "Châtelet is right," you agree, "But keep your menagerie close."

    It is a tense group that walks the remaining distance to the hill, save for Doctor Silver who is still fussing over his wife's food. However, just as you arrive, his head snaps up.

    "Someone's behind that tree. And there are trip wires all around the house. Some are connected to . . . is that C-4?!"

    "Impressive," a quiet voice calls from behind the tree. A woman in a costume and wielding a sword walks out, "But how exactly do you know all that, I wonder?"


    "Ah, you must be Belle Sabreuse. You're just as Wolong described you," you saw walking forward. But, just as you're nearly in arms reach, Belle Sabreuse moves. She draws her sword and, in a flash, has it pointing directly at your neck. You remain perfectly still as you feel the point touch the hollow of your throat.

    "What is your name?" she demands.

    "Fuckin' really, lady? A sword?" an irate Handyman demands, "Black Swan can level buildings!"

    Barkavious lets out a low growl. You answer her question. "Lady Leizi. I believe I was expected."

    "Yes," she says, "The leftover scraps of Justice Unlimited. The criminal. I told my charge it was better to avoid a creature like you, no matter your fortunate connection to her sister. Coal and diamonds are both made of carbon, but only one gets you filthy."

    "Hey!" Black Swan shouts, while everyone else flinches. You remain calm.

    "It's going to take more than that to upset me, darling. I've been unfavorably compared to Yazmin since I became a hero. It used to make her feel so terrible that she would buy me lunch. And I have very expensive tastes when I'm insulted."

    You give her a haughty smirk. As you do, she relaxes, sheathes her blade, and gives a quick bow.

    "Lady Leizi," she says, "My apologies for my words just now. But, we've had all manner of uninvited guests recently. Provoking an emotional reaction is the only way to be sure that you're not one of . . . them."

    "Think nothing of it," you say, putting your hand on her shoulder, "I've heard all about your recent pest problem."

    She gives you a small smile. "Then you can't imagine how happy I am that you're here. But first, forgive my manners. There's no need to stand out here with all this wonder . . . is that food?!"

    For a second, her cool demeanor slips and you see her eyes sparkle. She wets her lips before catching herself.

    "Yes, well. We must get these inside immediately."

    You hide a smile as she quickly herds everyone towards the two-story, three bedroom home. It has a lovely little patio out front and a carefully-tended garden. You all climb onto the deck just as the door is swung open by an eager girl. You would put her around Black Swan and Valiant Gold's age.

    Yara Oliveira is immediately recognizable as Yazmin's sibling. It's in their shared complexion, their wavy hair, the shape of their nose.

    But she's also as different as can be. Yazmin was an Amazonian woman, standing at six feet tall with broad, muscular shoulders and arms from her days as an Olympic swimming hopeful. Yara, is slightly shorter than you—around Black Swan's height—and has the soft hands of someone unused to physical activity. While Yazmin stood proud and had a burning fire in her eyes, Yara is unassuming with a soothing, gentle smile.

    But, most of all, while Yazmin was constantly looking at you with a challenge—a demand that you, and everyone else, be better—Yara gazes at you with something of undisguised awe. It's strange seeing it come from a face that looks so much like your old teammate's.

    She sees the disgruntled expressions still on the faces of a few members of your team and freezes. Then, she huffs.

    "Belle!" she shouts, "You insulted them, didn't you?"

    "I had to," Belle Sabreuse says gently, "You know we have to check everyone."

    "But it's Justice Unlimited!" she protests, "There's no way they're . . ."

    She trails off and sighs.

    "That's why we have to check them, isn't it? We'd never suspect until it's too late. Especially if we were expecting them."

    "Exactly," Belle Sabreuse with another small smile. She whispers to you, "She's a quick study."

    "That's wonderful and all," Menagerie Witch says, "But I can't feel my arms anymore. Is there any place we can put this food down or . . .?"

    "Oh, I'm so sorry!" Yara says, running to take the containers out of Menagerie Witch's arms, "Come right in! Umm, we have a dining table that should be enough? I think? We've never used it . . ."

    Her voice trails off as she traipses inside, followed by your chattering team.

    "Wow, look at this pad!"

    ". . . this is the kind of house Abs and I wanted."

    "I've never been in a house before! Do you have one of those little car-houses too?!"

    ". . . garages, Black Swan. They're called garages."

    "Don't bother, she isn't listening. She never is. Also, how come you're suddenly cool with the fumbler here?"

    "Okay, Ms. Yara. Yara? Anyway, I have specific instructions on how to plate all this and I need to take a picture to prove I did it right this time . . ."

    You linger outside watching your team with a fond smile. Belle Sabreuse stays with you.

    "Thank you," she says softly, "I haven't seen her this lively in months."

    You examine her out of the corner of your eye and say, carefully, "I understand you've had your share of difficulties."

    Minor Success: DC 5. Moderate Success: DC 10. Major Success: DC 15.

    Stat Check: ESPIONAGE 5. Lady Leizi has ESPIONAGE 8.

    You rolled: 17.

    17 + 1 = 18. Major Success!

    Belle Sabreuse lets out a pained laugh. "That's putting it mildly, yes."

    You raise your eyebrow at her.

    "They say a trouble shared is a trouble halved. And I would like to know what I'm potentially walking my team into."

    "You're here to offer her sanctuary then?" Belle Sabreuse says, eyes sharp.

    "If she wishes it," you say, slowly, "I have no desire to force her to do anything."

    Belle Sabreuse lets out another breath. ". . . I apologize again. As you've said, it's been a troubled time."

    You patiently wait for her to continue. After a moment, she does.

    "The attacks began a month or so after the Movement. I originally thought this would be a simple job. Who would possibly wish—and be able—to harm Jair Oliveira's remaining daughter? I assumed Uiara had hired us to prevent Yara's father from intimidating her."

    "Us?" you say with a raised eyebrow.

    "There were originally three of us. Myself, the Shadow Slayer, and Danger Russ. Both of my cohorts feld after the first attack."

    "Wonderful," you growl, "I suppose the number of metahumans willing to accept a contingent assignment that might never come to fruition was few indeed. Still, one would wish for some professionalism from those willing to take Yazmin's coin."

    Belle Sabreuse sighs, "Mercenaries have no loyalty but to their wallets. And since Uiara paid in advance . . ."

    She shrugs.

    "Not that I blame them. Twenty armed men with tactical armor and automatic weapons can steal the courage from anyone."

    "Twenty?" you say, surprised, "How in the world did you survive that?"

    "My power makes me particularly resistant to bullets," she explains. You see her worry at her lip and then sigh, "I suppose I'll elaborate. I can change the density of whatever I touch. At a thought, my clothing becomes more resistant to harm than the strongest body armor. And my sword—"

    She taps her blade.

    "Cuts with the weight of a singularity. Still, if those men had a modicum of sense in their minds, I wouldn't have survived."

    "They were . . . ?"

    "Simple. Rigid. Like they were acting out a play and couldn't improvise when I refused to match their lines. They weren't expecting any metahumans, and the presence of three seemed to confuse them so badly they hardly resisted as I cut them down. I thought that would be the end of it . . ."

    "But they came back," you finish.

    "Yes. They did. Over and over. At first it was the same story—intimidating numbers and equipment, but lackluster tactics. Then, they started to get smarter. They brought teargas and peppery spray to get around my defenses. But each time I adjusted to counter them, they fell apart. So long as I could stay a step ahead, they would eventually fall."

    She clenches the hilt of her sword, her grip knuckle-white.

    "Then, one day, I saw one's face as I defeated him. The very next day, he returned, totally uninjured. Despite the fact I . . . despite the fact I separated his head from his shoulders. It was then I realized they would never stop coming."

    She fiddles with the brim of her hat, pulling it low over her eyes.

    "Yara and I have been on the move constantly since then. No more than two nights in the same location. It's been . . . taxing. It's no way to live. But that girl never complains. Never cries. She is more concerned if I am okay."

    "Are you?" you ask.

    She closes her eyes shut. ". . . I haven't been okay since well before I met Yara. If anything, she has given me strength."

    "Is that why you've stayed?"

    "I've been retained to protect her," she says, evasively, "It is my duty to stay."

    "And yet, the other two paid to do the same have fled. But you remain," you saw, eyes sharp, "You either have an ironclad sense of responsibility, or there is some other reason."

    She gives another quiet laugh. "I see your reputation was not exaggerated. Very well, Lady Leizi. You are correct."

    She looks up, into the distance. "Yara reminds me of myself. I once was alone, betrayed by someone who was like blood, my true family taken from me. No one came for that little girl begging for salvation."

    She looks up, and you follow her gaze. It takes a second for it to click, but then it hits you: she's looking at Ladder. This close, it looks so large that your mind almost couldn't recognize it as it fades into the sky.

    "For her, I wanted to be the person whom I had wished had come for me."

    That's . . . an excellent reason. One that implies a degree of heartbreak into which a polite person normally wouldn't inquire further. You feel the urge to leave it alone yourself, but . . .

    Belle Sabreuse is an enigma. As soon as Gabriel gave you her name, you devoted not-inconsiderable resources to learn everything about her that you could.

    And you learned almost nothing.

    She appeared on the metahuman scene around a year ago, taking work off Hero for Hire. Her record was sterling, with all of her former clients speaking very highly of her. She was not involved in any of the more unsavory work one could find on that mercenary application, despite it paying better. She appeared to be a model here.

    She just had no past. You could find no records of her existing before a year ago, anywhere. She maintained no permanent address, preferring to move from temporary lodging to temporary lodging, and she spoke very little about herself.

    It was extraordinarily unusual to say the least. Even the most private of metahumans had some history. Your working theory had been that she was a refugee from the mainland, but, now, seeing how she looked at the Ladder . . .

    "What was the Elysium Station like?" you ask matter-of-factly.

    She leaps back like she's seen a ghost, her face suddenly pale. You gaze at her impassively, not wishing to push the issue if she was unwilling to share.

    That, oddly enough, seems to be what gets her to answer you.

    ". . . I never saw the Station until right before I came to Horizon," she admits "I am what the Station-residents call 'rung-trash'; an orphaned child living in the empty spaces in the middle part of the Ladder. We're little more than workers to perform dangerous labor to them."

    "We?" you ask, not missing that slip.

    She looks away. ". . . I was an orphan, true, but I did have family. A band of other children with whom I lived with for as long as I can remember. We all dreamed of one day living in Elysium-proper.."

    She closes her eyes in agony.

    "They're all gone now."

    Her pain is so real and evident that you place a hand on her shoulder. She wipes at her eyes through her mask and then collects herself.

    "I'm sorry," you say softly, "I understand something of loss."

    "I've heard," Belle Sabreuse says, "Yara has spoken of little else for days now. It's done her good, to have something to look forward to."

    "Yes, about that," you say, reaching into your coat. You pull out a shield generator and one of Mendicant's symbiotes stored in a vial. You press them into Belle Sabreuse's hands.

    "What are these?" she says warily.

    "In case of emergency," you say, "The metal disk will block one blow for you or Yara. The vial contains a symbiote. Only use it if the alternative is death."

    She gives you a concerned look. "Are you expecting something?"

    ". . . maybe," you admit, "But I've also been called over-cautious in the past."

    There's a tense second while Belle Sabreuse considers what you've given her, before she nods and tucks them away.

    "Yes, well, shall we join everyone for lunch?" she says, changing the subject, "My stomach will not forgive me if I miss my first opportunity in months to eat food that hasn't come out of a package."

    "Of course," you say. You follow her inside.

    Yara's home is tastefully decorated, if a tad sterile. You can see how this is only a temporary abode, given the pristine furniture and lack of personal touches. It feels like a house you might see in an advertisement rather than somewhere where someone lives.

    But any port in a storm, you suppose. And the available space is sinfully luxurious, with light pouring in from the large windows. Belle Sabreuse leads you to a small dining room where you are greeted by positively heavenly smells.

    Someone has pushed the dining table against the wall, where your team's offerings have been arranged buffet-style. Doctor Silver fusses over the location of the plates while everyone else is crowded together on the other side of the room. Yara stands between Handyman and Châtelet, her eyes nearly bulging out of her head at the sight of all the food.

    "Doc, come on!" Handyman whines, "We're starvin' here!"

    "One second, one second! I have to take a picture to prove I did it right! This is my chance to redeem myself for our last barbeque!"

    "Does everyone who gets married get this whipped?" Menagerie Witch mutters.

    "If they're lucky . . ." Châtelet sighs.

    Doctor Silver fiddles with his screen and snaps several pictures. "Okay, okay, I think I got it!"

    "Doctor Silver . . ." you start, "You realize you can never show anyone those pictures, lest you risk leaking Yara's safehouse, yes?"

    "B-but, my redemption!"

    "Is not coming today," Menagerie Witch says, grabbing a plate, "Now, eat."

    That's all it takes for everyone to line up and begin ladening their plates with food. You don't miss how Yara and Belle Sabreuse take a little of everything and stack their plates high.

    There's no table anymore, so everyone grabs a seat where they can find one and digs in. You have a moment where you worry the food will be lacking—that would be rather embarrassing after all the build up . . .

    Minor Success: DC 5. Moderate Success: DC 10. Major Success: DC 15.

    Stat Check: REPUTATION 32 . Justice Unlimited has a collective REPUTATION 43.

    You rolled: 9.

    The Audience has granted you +1 on this roll.

    9 + 5 + 1 = 15. Major Success!

    Sandra and Marisa are really good cooks.

    . . . but thankfully, the food proves superlative.

    "Holy shit, Doc, if I wasn't gay and she wasn't already taken, I'd marry your wife just to eat like this everyday," Handyman says between bites, "This oxtail?! The meat is falling off the bone!"

    "I like these dumplings, but they squirt every time I bite into them!" Black Swan complains.

    "Black Swan, you're supposed to nibble a piece off and then drink the soup out of it," Châtelet says, watching her eating habits in horror.

    "Now you tell me!"

    Meanwhile, Valiant Gold and Menagerie Witch mechanically demolish the food in front of them.

    "Uhh, Menagerie Witch, VG?" Doctor Silver says, eyes wide, "You gotta remember to chew."

    "Can't help it, the food tastes too good," Valiant Gold says intently, "You can take having food made for you for granted. I've been cooking my own meals since I was twelve. You treasure your wife."

    "Need food. Need to grow," Menagerie Witch growls, "Tired of being asked if I want a kid's menu at restaurants."

    "But Menagerie Witch, you love chicken tendies!"

    "Shut up, Black Swan!"

    Yara watches the byplay between your team with wide eyes. She tries to swallow a truly prodigious bite of food, before gagging and coughing.

    You offer her a glass of water, which she drinks gratefully.

    "How's the food, darling?" you ask.

    "It's amazing," she says with a smile, "Thank you. I can't imagine a better meal. Everything is so good, especially the egg rolls!"

    "Really?" Black Swan says, wrinkling her nose. There's a barely nibbled-on egg roll on her plate. "The egg rolls are the only thing I don't like! They're soggy and weird-tasting."

    ". . . I made those," Valiant Gold mutters. At which, Black Swan sits up, shoves the whole thing in her mouth, and starts to choke.

    "Black Swan, you don't actually need to breathe!" Châtelet shouts. Then she murmurs, "No one likes the salad."

    "I do," Belle Sabruse says, eating daintily, "Regular access to fresh produce is something I have learned to not take for granted."

    Belle Sabreuse and Châtelet begin chatting amicably, while everyone else watches Black Swan make a spectacle of herself. You notice Yara's plate is now empty, and you see her eye the remaining food on the buffet table and bite her lip.

    "By all means," you say, "Get another helping."

    "Oh n-no, I don't want to be gluttonous—"

    "No higher compliment for a chef!" Doctor Silver calls.

    Yara bites her lip again before slowly approaching the table. "Well . . . if you insist . . ."

    She scurries to the table to begin layering food high on her plate.

    "Ha! Now there's a girl with a healthy appetite!" Doctor Silver laughs, "Ever had Caribbean food before?"

    "No, but I've been missing out!" Yara says, sitting back down with a truly impressive amount of food, "What meat is this?"

    "That's goat! You see, curry goat is . . ."

    Doctor Silver brags about his wife's cooking as chatter breaks out among your team, the worst of their hunger blunted.

    Minor Success: DC 5. Moderate Success: DC 10. Major Success: DC 15.

    Stat Check: REPUTATION 35. Justice Unlimited has a collective REPUTATION 43.

    You rolled: 6.

    The Audience has granted you +2 on this roll.

    6 + 4 + 3 (Treating a Lunch like Lunch) + 2 = 15. Major Success!

    Sometimes it's the slow moments that show someone that they can trust you.

    "So Valiant Gold," Menagerie Witch says, apropos of nothing, "Would you rather fight a horse-sized duck, or twenty duck-size horses?"

    Valiant Gold frowns. "With or without my armor?"

    "You can wear it, but none of the modules work."

    ". . . so it's just slowing me down."

    Across the room, Black Swan talks to Châtelet while Belle Sabreuse observes their byplay.

    ". . . paid way too much, but I finally got Umibōzu's figure. Now I just need Millions Minefield and I'll have all of Denial. But they're soooooo rare."

    "Huh," Châtelet says, stopping a fork full of salad midway to her lips, "They finally made Russel an action figure, huh? I remember he got so mad when production was delayed."

    "Wait!" Black Swan says, jerking up, "You knew him?!"

    "Well . . . yeah. I've been an active hero for a little over a decade now? I used to run into Denial a lot. They were pretty easy to talk to, when Gwen wasn't screaming at them."

    ". . . ohimgosh, you've been an active hero for over a decade! What was Millions Minefield like?! Why did he dress like a riverboat gambler?! Were Umibōzu and Nephthys really a thing?! Tell meeeeeeeeeeee!"

    "I mean, they weren't a thing without Hydrocity? The three of them were sort of a poly-package deal . . ."

    Next to you, Doctor Silver has finished extolling the virtues of island food, and is arguing with Handyman about sports. Yara watches the back and forth like a dutiful child observing her uncles at a family gathering.

    "Look, I'm not saying the Metas won't make some noise, but who's better than the Knicks right now?" Handyman demands.

    "The Knicks don't have size in the front court! They're going to get killed on the glass, Handyman."

    "Dale Dauterive is the best rebounding shooting guard in the league and—"

    "I'm sorry. My team can be a tad overwhelming," you whisper to Yara, "It's been a stressful time, and I'm afraid they tend to seize any opportunity to cut loose with both hands."

    "No, no!" Yara protests through a mouthful of curry goat. She quickly swallows. "This is wonderful. I've never been to a dinner where everyone likes each other before."

    She winces.

    "That's . . . pretty sad, isn't it?"

    "A little bit," you reluctantly agree.

    "Well . . . if it's always like this, I'm envious," she says, "Do you always eat together?"

    "Not usually," you say, "But any kind of full-team gathering we have inevitably turns into something like this. Now that you mention it, perhaps a few snacks during meetings wouldn't go amiss . . ."

    Handyman and Doctor Silver grow more animated in their discussion.

    "Jalen Brunson is top five, all time!"

    "All time?!"

    "All time! All time, Doc! Name five players better than him!"

    "M.J."

    "Well, duh."

    "LeBron."

    "Yeah, fine, whatever."

    "Benteke. Rookie of the Year in 2048, MVP in '49, '50, and '51."

    "I could argue that! But I'll give it to you, fine."

    "Kobe—"

    "Bullshit, 'Kobe was better'. Bruson has two MVPs, three Finals MVPs, and the same number of rings. And he didn't need Shaq to do it! The only thing Kobe has more of is missed shots and credible sexual assault allegations!"

    "Okay, not Kobe. But Kareem—"

    "Bullshit, Kareem—well, maybe . . ."

    Meanwhile, Châtelet and Black Swan have drawn Belle Sabreuse into their gossip.

    "So your name is 'Belle'?" Black Swan asks.

    "Black Swan . . .," Châtelet says, "A 'belle sabreuse' is a formal name for a female fencer."

    Black Swan gasps. "You do construction?!"

    Belle Sabreuse laughs. "Well, once upon a time, I did. But no longer—"

    Her anecdote is drowned out by the sound of Valiant Gold and Menagerie Witch.

    ". . . seriously underestimating the fragility of horses. One broken leg and the horse is finished. And with my armor, they lack a way to harm me, even if they do 'swarm'. The answer is clear."

    Valiant Gold nods decisively.

    "I'm with VG, ducks are one step removed from geese, and those things are evil," Handyman says, having overheard the conversation.

    "Ditto," Doctor Silver agrees, "Though, think of all the meat you would get off the duck if you beat it. You could make roast duck, duck confit, cassoulet, duck ragu, Peking duck . . ."

    "If you beat it."

    "Dammit, Valiant Gold!" Menagerie Witch growls, "You ruined it by having a real answer!"

    She crosses her arms and sulks for a second before a devilish smile spreads across her face. You feel a chill run down your spine.

    "Hey, Black Swan," she says, "Unlock your screen and give it to me."

    "Why?" Black Swan says, turning around.

    "'Cuz, I want it."

    "Well, okasies!" Black Swan shrugs, unlocks her screen, and gives it to Menagerie Witch.

    You sense impending doom. Black Swan, you fool! You open your mouth to stop what's about to happen, but you're too slow to stop the verbal grenade Menagerie Witch lobs.

    "Hey, Valiant Gold, did you know you've gotten really popular online? So popular that the shipping has started."

    Valiant Gold blinks. "'Shipping?' Like merchandise? We don't have any of me, although Ms. Takanashi has—"

    "No, 'shipping' as in people are writing stories about you fucking."

    ". . . what?"

    "Yeah, check out Archive of Ọsanyin." Menagerie Witch switches Black Swan's screen to display mode and pulls up AO2. "The most popular tag in the last week has been Valiant Justice/Valiant Gold. They're calling it 'JustGold'."

    ". . . what?!"

    Menagerie Witch starts scrolling through the fanfiction as everyone crowds around to see. Valiant Gold is still as a statue, while Black Swan is silently screaming into her hand.

    "Oooh, check out this one from the author of 'My Dad is a Lawyer, My Mom is the Demon Lord, and I'm Not Sure Who's More Evil!'. It's called 'Eyes Like Arrows':

    "Now, tell us what powers your armor."

    The biting words are already on his tongue. He needs to say them. He's the leader. He doesn't have any other choice.

    So he lets them loose, and hopes they can drown out the truth he wishes he could have said.

    The same thing that's powering my heart. You.

    "Holy. Shit," Handyman says, cackling, "Look at this schmaltzy crap!"

    Châtelet pats the frozen Valiant Gold on the shoulder. "Hey, I know how uncomfortable this is. Just be glad they're not shipping you with your cousin and her husband. Or, even worse, your baby cousin."

    "Why. Are. You. Reading this trash?!" Valiant Gold manages to hiss out, like steam boiling out of a kettle.

    Menagerie Witch gives a shrug. "Hey, don't look at me. This is Black Swan's account. She has all this stuff bookmarked."

    "It was for a mission! A mission!" Black Swan cries, flying into the holographic display and trying to hide it with her body, "I was gathering information on the public perception of Justice Unlimited!"

    "How is this a mission Black Swan?!"

    "Wow, look at everything you have saved!" Yara says, taking control of the display from Menagerie Witch. You're thrown off for a second; you hadn't noticed her walk over. But now she's looking through Black Swan's bookmarks, a delighted expression on her face

    "Almost all of these feature Valiant Gold!" she giggles to herself, "And a lot of them have her paired up with you! Hey . . are you two dating?"

    "No."

    "N-no way!" Black Swan sputters, "Fanfiction is the closest she'll ever get to dating me."

    Everyone winces and Handyman sucks his breath. "Ouch."

    "Aww, well I think you two are cute together!" Yara says, continuing to scroll, "Oh, what's this one? 'I Have Two Hands for a Reason'? Let's see . . . Valiant Justice/Valiant Gold/Black Swan . . . it's only ten words long? Huh?"

    "Usually that means it's art or some medium other than writing, Yara," Belle Sabreuse calls.

    Everyone turns to look at her, and she shrugs. "I need a way to pass time during the long nights on guard."

    "Oh, well I'll open it then—"

    "Yara, no!" Black Swan screeches,

    "What is it? It's just—wow."

    "Menagerie Witch, don't look!" Châtelet says, clapping her hands over Menagerie Witch's eyes.

    "Leviathan's Blood, Bone, and Brain, what are the youth doing these days?" Doctor Silver says in horror.

    "Wow," Handyman says, looking at the images, "Now that is some porno."

    Black Swan is making choking sounds while Valiant Gold has gone still again.

    "I don't know, I kind of like it," Yara chirps, scrolling through it, "Wow! Some of these are really creative!"

    A silence falls and Yara's smile fades as she realizes everyone is looking at her. "Umm, w-what is it?"

    "Dang," Handyman says, "You kinda freaky, ain't ya kid?"

    Yara flushes and looks like she wants the floor to swallow her, her good mood evaporated.

    Well, that won't do.

    "So it's Black Swan, apparently," you sigh, "And I can't believe I have to revive this old team rule, but: No pornography at mealtimes!"

    "Lady, Leizi, why?!"

    "That's enough Black Swan," you say tartly. You look over your sunglasses at her. "And I look forward to hearing a full report of your 'mission' during our next general meeting."

    "Noooooooooooooo!"

    That gets a laugh out of everyone, even Yara, and the awkward moment passes. You go back to an excellent plate of jerk chicken, when you see Yara sit next to you.

    "Thank you, Lady Leizi," she says softly.

    "Think nothing of it, darling," you say, "But I don't believe Handyman meant any ill will. He was just swept up in the moment and was over-familiar."

    "No, it's fine!" she says quickly, "Like I said, this is the most fun I've had in . . . well, forever."

    "I'm glad," you say smiling. But there's still something in her expression, a hesitancy. She wants to say something to you.

    You gesture with your hand. "Well, don't keep me on pins and needles. I can tell there's something on your mind. Please, speak freely."

    Yara jumps before biting her lip again. She struggles for a moment before blurting out, "What was my sister like? Did she ever mention me?"

    DC 8.

    Stat Check: ESPIONAGE 2. Lady Leizi has ESPIONAGE 8.

    You rolled: 6.

    6 + 3 = 9. Success!

    Yara's desires are written plainly on her face: she desperately wants the answer to be 'yes'. She wants to hear that her sister spoke of her often, even fondly, but . . . she strongly suspects Yazmin did not. You're her last hope—the last living person who really knew her sister. She's willing to treat whatever you say as gospel, especially after this wonderful lunch and especially if you tell her what she wants to hear.

    You can almost feel Yara's future resting in the palms of your hands. It would be easy, so easy, to paint a picture of Yazmin that matches what Yara's always dreamed. You could tell her that Yazmin thought the world of her, desperately missed her, was only kept away by circumstance, and wanted Yara to follow in her footsteps. Yara would blindly, happily, follow you back to the Apiary, join Project Prometheus, and give you control of her shares.

    And think of what you could do with ten percent of Ọsanyin Conglomerated Industries at your command. And all it would take is a little white lie that Yara wants to hear.

    A little white lie. That's all it would take. A little white lie to condemn Yara to a lifetime of chasing a vision of her sister that never existed.

    You could do that. Or you could tell her the truth. It would hurt her, but it would also set her free.

    You can be more.

    You know what Yazmin would do in this situation.

    "No," you say, softly, "I'm sorry, but Yazmin never really talked about you. Or, if she did, she did not discuss you with me. She was reticent when it came to her past."

    You put your plate down and sigh.

    ". . . we all were. Maybe that's why we worked as a team: we knew where not to push each other."

    "O-oh." Yara looks stricken, but not surprised. She looks away to hide the tears in her eyes. The room is silent, and you can feel everyone watching you even as they pretend not to.

    "Yazmin was a contradiction in many ways," you continue, politely allowing Yara to collect herself without commenting on it, "She was open with her opinions and as subtle as a brick to the face, but she was also closed off and withdrawn. I don't know if anyone—save maybe Nora or Harper—knew all of her."

    Yara sniffles and dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief, but she's listening to you.

    "She's very much thought of as the epitome of heroism: striking, bold, always ready to resist injustice. But in reality, she had a foul temper, she was terribly stubborn, and she tended to not think things through."

    Yara's eyes go wide.

    "She was also constantly clogging the shower drain back when we were all at the Bastion. There were two bathrooms for seven people, and they were segregated by gender. But our team had six girls and only one boy! I swear, sometimes I think I started sleeping with Rakeem just so I could have hot water in the morning and use a bathroom that wasn't littered with your sister's hair!"

    A sea of confused faces look back at you. Only Belle Sabreuse gives you a small, approving smile.

    "And do not get me started on the constant theatrics that was her and Nora's relationship. My word, they would 'break up' over the smallest spat and then be pawing at each other like animals within the day! Both of them acted like children; like they felt their emotions so much deeper than everyone else! And if you're amused by Black Swan's indiscretions, you would have loved inadvertently learning about their sexual escapades from what they left lying around on the kitchen table—"

    Châtelet coughs into her hand. "Lady Leizi—"

    "Oh, and self-righteousness! You couldn't so much as double-park without inviting some lecture about civic responsibility and 'setting the right example'. As if Yazmin was a paragon of courtesy! We all ate on that kitchen table!"

    You don't remember leaping to your feet, but it feels very, very right. Yara wrinkles her nose. "Leviathan's Blood—"

    "Leviathan's Blood is right!" you shout, "You sister was the most pig-headed, arrogant, sanctimonious person I have ever had the misfortune to be buried alive with for thirty-six hours! She used to drive me to drink! And I . . . I . . . I—!"

    You suddenly can't speak around the lump in your throat. You sit back down, feeling exhausted all of the sudden.

    ". . . I miss her every day." Yara offers you her handkerchief, but you find you don't need it. You've shed so many tears over your teammates, that you find you don't have any left. Truly, the wound has begun to scab over.

    You look over at Yara. Goodness, she truly is a kind girl. You see sympathy in her eyes, mixed with just a little splash of envy.

    She clutches her hands together, squeezing them tight. Then, in a tighter voice, she says, "Why . . . why did she leave me alone? Why didn't . . . why didn't she send for me? I would have come. I would have lived in the Apiary. I wanted nothing more."

    You close your eyes, and exhale. You barely know this girl, but you feel her heartbreak all too keenly.

    "I don't know," you admit, "I'm sorry."

    You think of the heroine Uiara and the woman Yazmin, and you try to reconcile the contradiction between the two of them in your mind. Uiara would never leave someone—let alone someone she loved—to stay in an abusive situation. Even if it was just emotionally abusive, as it appears to have been for Yara.

    But Yazmin did.

    You find you have the same question as Yara: Why?

    Minor Success: DC 5. Moderate Success: DC 10. Major Success: DC 15.

    Stat Check: OPERATIONS 12. Lady Leizi has OPERATIONS 5.

    You rolled: 6.

    The Audience has granted you +4 on this roll.

    6 - 3 + 3 (You Spent Ten Years with Her) + 4. Moderate Success!

    Think. You knew her better than you think you did.

    You speak slowly, trying to reason it out loud.

    "Yazmin never hesitated to put herself in harm's way. Even if Rakeem was more impervious than her. Even if Nora's shields could survive the hit. It always had to be her in the front. It used to drive us mad, but she insisted she could do no less."

    She insisted that a lot, now that you think about it.

    "She was, in most ways, our moral compass. Every time there was a choice and we were tempted to take the 'easier' path rather than the 'right' path, there was Yazmin refusing to let us compromise. It's why we took a stand with the Defiance Unit after all . . ."

    A choice that led to the end of the heroine Apiary. At the time, you had partially blamed Yazmin for Rosemary's death. You weren't alone in that either; Nora had too and it had been the source of their first true break up. A thought that has never occurred to you before strikes: had Yazmin felt the same? Did she blame herself for what happened to Rosemary?

    You keep speaking, mind awhirl.

    "But as relentless as she was on all of us, she was even harsher on herself," you say, seeing your old friend in a new light, "She refused to allow herself any grace, every mistake had to be owned up to and apologized for . . . she tormented herself."

    Yara looks confused. "Why? She was . . . Uiara!"

    "Yes, but she was also Yazmin Oliveira," you say, "And I think . . . she thought badly of herself. Do you know what some of her final words to me were? 'Protect my sister', 'Keep Ọsanyin out of my father's hands', and 'I'm not a good person'. She genuinely believed that about herself."

    You look at Yara and part of it snaps into place.

    ". . . I think it's because she was ashamed. Being 'Uiara' was her penance. Her penance for abandoning you."

    That surely can't be all it was, can it? Perhaps not, but the words at least feel true when you say them. Yara looks down, her eyes wet again. When she speaks, her voice warbles.

    "I thought . . . I thought Yazmin was just waiting for me to get powers. That, once if I turned out to be a metahuman, she could use that as an excuse to get me away from our father like she did. Her name . . . I thought it was a message."

    "It was," you say softly, "At the very least, she wanted to let you know she hadn't forgotten you."

    "Fat load of good that did me," she sniffles, "I still lived under our father's thumb. He decided what tutors I could have, what people I could associate with, what I wore. It was like he was determined to make sure his remaining daughter was loyal to him and nothing else."

    "I know the feeling," you say sadly.

    "You do . . . don't you?" Yara says, "But you got away. I just kept waiting, hoping for powers to come. But they never did. And they never will, will they? Just like my sister was never going to come for me."

    Tears flowed freely down her face.

    "I didn't want to be remembered. I wanted to matter. I wanted her to care enough about me to save me."

    Her muffled cries echo in the room. Black Swan looks devastated, while Menagerie Witch looks uncomfortable. Valiant Gold is unreadable through her armor, while Handyman, Doctor Silver, and Châtelet look like they want to comfort the poor girl.

    Belle Sabreuse meets your gaze. There's sadness there, but also understanding. She needed to hear this.

    And you? You say the only thing you can in this situation.

    "I recommend saving yourself, darling. Less waiting that way."

    Yara wipes her eyes and looks at you. "W-what?"

    "Save yourself. I think that's what your sister would have wanted from you. Not to try to be like her—someone she despised—but to be yourself."

    "Be . . . myself?" Yara repeats, wondering.

    "Yes. And, for what it's worth, you did matter to her. She made her last will and testament about protecting you, and she hired three metahumans—one reliable one—to protect you."

    Yara gives Belle Sabreuse a look, who nods. "It is true. You know that's how I first came into your employ."

    "Y-yeah, but—"

    "Only you, Yara, can decide what your future looks like," you say, "But, if you need a safe place to rest while you make that decision, Justice Unlimited's doors will always be open to you."

    "What do you mean?" she asks, hope in her eyes.

    "Must I say it plainly? Come with us. You can reside in the Apiary until you decide otherwise. It's as safe a stronghold as exists in Horizon."

    Minor Success: DC 5. Moderate Success: DC 10. Major Success: DC 15.

    Stat Check: REPUTATION 5 . Lady Leizi has REPUTATION 6.

    You rolled: 14.

    14 + 0 + 3 (Her Sister Truly Cared About Her) + 3 (You Can be More) = 21. Major Success! Critical Success!

    Yara looks around at your team, your wonderful team, and sees people, heroes, who honestly care.

    "No pressure, kid. But the Apiary's gettn' real fancy now. We have a food court and a movie theater!"

    "Hey, you like this food? You're welcome to come over every night and eat my wife's cooking. Just, uh, don't tell her that you're single. She thinks she's a matchmaker now . . ."

    ". . . the Apiary is the first place I was able to feel completely safe since I lost my fiancee. I hope you can feel that way there too."

    "Waaaaaaaah! You should come with usssssssss! Wahahahahahah! This is all so sad!"

    "I'll be real: it would be nice to have another girl around who isn't part-Batman or has rocks for brains."

    "We'll keep you safe. I promise."

    Yara looks at Belle Sabreuse, who gives a sheepish smile and rubs her ribs.

    "It would be nice to be able to stay in one place, for a time. I don't know how much more of this we can both handle."

    "Are you—?" Yara jumps to her feet and rushes over to Belle Sabreuse's side.

    "I am alright, Yara. Just tired, I think."

    "You'd be free to leave at any time," you reiterate, "I make this offer because I see a person in need, not because I seek anything in return."

    Yara, standing by Belle Sabreuse's side, looks down, her face hidden by her hair. She thinks for a long time, before looking up with a shy, hopeful expression. She squeezes Belle Sabreuse's hand and speaks.

    "I want to—"

    Her words are cut off by the sound of three loud bangs coming from the front door, followed by the sound of a most unwelcome voice.

    "Ms. Oliveira! Please, open up! I am Valiant Justice of Crusade. We have reason to believe you are in imminent danger!"

    Handyman stretches his neck out a window and then quickly retracts it.

    "Ah, fuck, Crusade's here. I hate those guys."

    You all race to the front of the house, but as you get there the door is knocked off its hinges by a pimply-faced boy in brass-colored power armor. Stockpile, Joules, Été, and The Brass Shield rush into the living room, followed by Sunlight Knight, Seraph, and White Hawk.

    Belle Sabreuse freezes, lets out of a sharp gasp, and pulls Yara behind her. You don't miss how she doesn't take her wild eyes off White Hawk, nor how her hand trembles as it grasps the hilt of her sword.

    Été similarly locks in place, and looks at Châtelet with a mixture of shame and longing, while your second tries in vain to pretend she doesn't see her.

    "Well, well, well!" Joules says dramatically, his arms outstretched. You can't help but notice he's in the process of growing his goatee out into a full beard. "Would ya look at this? The informant was right on the money! Justice Unlimited, caught red-handed."

    "Hey, get this! I'm checking the guest-list to this function aaaaaand . . .," Handyman runs a finger down his other hand, which he has transformed into a clipboard, ". . . ya not on it!"

    Stockpile doesn't rise to the mockery. He stares you down.

    ". . . I almost didn't believe it. I thought you meant the things you said at the interview. And yet, here you are, attempting to abduct the heiress to 11% of Ọsanyin."

    "They're not trying to abduct me!" Yara says, looking between the two of you quickly, "We were having lunch."

    "It's true," you say, "You missed the oxtail, darling. I do believe there's still some lasagna if you're hungry."

    "Stop playing games," Stockpile growls, "We know what's going on."

    DC 15.

    Stat Check: OPERATIONS 30. Justice Unlimited has OPERATIONS 42.

    ?????? uses ?????????? ????????????

    AUTO-FAIL

    "Someone leaked us Justice Unlimited finances. Not all of them, but enough to see that you're flat broke with bills coming due. That same person tipped us off that you were meeting with Ms. Oliveira today."

    Your finances?! Who? You don't even have a full accounting of all of your spending and income, despite Châtelet's heroic efforts. The only way anyone could is if they were carefully tracking all of your money coming in and tracing every purchase you made.

    But that would be nearly impossible, and who would make the effort?

    "It's very neat, isn't it?" Stockpile says, "11% of Ọsanyin could fund you indefinitely. You, and all of your projects."

    "We have no such plans," you say, meeting his gaze, "Or is Crusade telling on itself again? You seem awfully fond of accusing others of what you have planned yourself."

    He shakes his head. "You're not wriggling out of this one. If you had no ulterior motives, then why go through the effort of feeding us false information with your 'PR consultant'? And why have Perspective, Plasticity, and Ronin been waylaid on their way here by attacks from assailants with the same powers as Miss Naught and Gentleman James? Don't think we haven't noticed the emerging alliance between New Dawn and Justice Unlimited."

    He surveys your team.

    "And why is all of Justice Unlimited here in full-combat gear? Were you expecting some kind of fight today?"

    Yes, you think, But not with you.

    Stockpile reaches back and pulls off his helmet. His head is now shaven, his cheeks gaunt, but his eyes burn. He extends a hand to Yara.

    "Ms. Oliveira, you cannot trust them. Please, come with us. I swear on the graves of my comrades, we will keep you safe."

    "Yes, do come with us," White Hawk says, but not to Yara. He's looking at Belle Sabreuse. There's a peculiar gleam to his eyes, and his smile makes him look cherubic, almost boyish. "Beatrice, tell her to come along. You used to follow my lead so long ago, and you can do so again. It will be just like old times."

    "No!" Belle Sabreuse shouts, fully trembling, "Never again. Yara, you cannot go with them. Especially him."

    But even as she says that, you see her knees buckle. As if she wants nothing more than to walk over there and return to a bygone past. She's yet to take her eyes off White Hawk.

    Yara gazes back into Stockpile's eyes, matching his gaze. She searches him for a long, long time, like a jeweler examining a gem for flaws. She picks him apart, seemingly without words.

    DC 18.

    Stat Check: REPUTATION 40. Justice Unlimited has REPUTATION 43.

    You rolled: 8.

    8 + 5 (Her Sworn-Sword Said No) + 5 (A Good Lunch with Good People) + 5 (Why Not Save Yourself?) = 23. Critical Success!

    And finds him wanting.

    "No," she says.

    "No?" Stockpile says, rearing back, "Ms. Oliveira, please, reconsidered. You're frightened—"

    "I know how I'm feeling, thank you," she says, "I appreciate your concern. I even believe that you believe what you say. But, I'm capable of making my own decisions. I will be joining Lady Leizi at the Apiary."

    "Please, reconsider—"

    "She said 'no'," Valiant Gold says, stepping forward, "I know he doesn't understand what that means—"

    She points to Joules who has been leering at Black Swan and Belle Sabreuse.

    "—but surely you do? Besides, your word is worthless."

    "My word is my bond!" Stockpile snarls, getting in Valiant Gold's face.

    "Then what happened to indefinite suspension?!" she demands, pointing at Seraph. You can feel the barely-restrained violence wafting off her.

    ". . . this was an emergency," Stockpile admits.

    "Wow. So 'your word is your bond' unless it's inconvenient," a pale Menagerie Witch says, "Fuck you, poser."

    "I'm afraid it's not Valiant Red, White, and Blue's credibility that is at issue here," White Hawk says, his eyes still on the woman he called 'Beatrice', "Justice Unlimited cannot be trusted. We are not leaving here without both of them."

    Sunlight Knight sighs, and a layer of flaming energy surrounds his armor.

    "My, giving the game away, aren't you?" you say, "You can't bully everyone into doing what you want, so you're using force?"

    "No!" Stockpile snarls, looking back, "That's not how we're doing things!"

    "Then why don't we all try to calm down?" you say, seizing the opportunity to avoid a fight.

    DC 12.

    Stat Check: OPERATIONS 40. Justice Unlimited has OPERATIONS 42.

    ?????? uses ?????????? ????????????

    AUTO-FAIL

    It is at that precise moment that a million little things go wrong.

    First is something you hadn't even considered: the placement of everyone in the room is exactly wrong to be conducive to keeping a cool head. Crusade and Justice Unlimited stand opposite of each other, but the furniture is such that Été is right next to Châtelet. The gravitational mistress is steadfastly ignoring her cousin, but it's taking away from her focus. Where she would normally be joining your call for peace, she's stone-faced.

    Joules is right by Black Swan and Handyman, where his appreciative gaze is making your nineteen-year old blaster uncomfortable, and setting Handyman on edge.

    Menagerie Witch is in the back and too short to see anything except Seraph who is floating slightly off the ground. While she pretends otherwise, her encounter with the telepath left her shaken.

    The sheer number of people has Doctor Silver distracted for just a moment, long enough to miss movement at the far end of his range.

    And White Hawk can see Belle Sabreuse unobstructed, a possessive look in his eyes.

    Just then something jostles Joules into Handyman.

    "Hey, watch it!" he shouts, pushing the former member of Global Justice back.

    Just then, there's a telepathic scream in all of your ears, making you wince. A red aura springs to life around Valiant Gold as she snarls at Seraph.

    "You!"

    "It wasn't me! It wasn't me!" she protests telepathically, but that only incenses everyone further.

    "Stay out of our heads, Shiloh!" Menagerie Witch screams.

    The Brass Shield tries to maneuver around in his power armor, but a blue pane of light appears and he smashes his face into it as he turns around.

    "Justish Unlimited is attac'ing!" he shouts through a broken nose.

    "Aggression, from Justice Unlimited!" White Hawk declares.

    "That wasn't one of mine!" Doctor Silver says, looking around wildly. His head snaps out toward the window. "Wait, who's that—"

    A chain appears, connected to Yara's blouse and quickly retracts, trying to drag her through a nearby window. Belle Sabreuse just misses grabbing her and lets out a cry.

    "Yara!"

    But Doctor Silver is equal to the task. A force field appears around the chain, stationary in the air. Yara smashes into it, her blouse tears, but she falls to the ground, free. Belle Sabreuse is there in a second, covering her body with her own.

    Yara takes one injury level! Superficial injury!

    You nearly miss it, but you then see a beam of light come in through the window, pass over Black Swan's head, and curve to hit Stockpile.

    It's there only for a split second, but you see a bullseye on his chest. Then, it's gone.

    He goes flying back into The Brass Shield, and that is enough straw to break the camel's back.

    "JU's making their move!" Joules cries, "Start swinging!"

    A whip made of plasma coils around his wrist, and he snaps it at you.

    Minor Success: DC 5. Moderate Success: DC 10. Major Success: DC 15.

    Stat Check: HIT 45. Justice Unlimited has a collective HIT 49.

    You rolled: 20.

    20 + 3 (Reach Heaven Through Violence) = 23. Major Success! Natural Crit!

    You parry the blow easily, your lightning deflecting his plasma, and sweep Joules' legs out from under him. But the damage is done. A fight is inevitable.

    White Hawk zips into the air and flies at Yara, only for Handyman to catch him with an enlarged hand and redirect his momentum out the window. Handyman holds on and follows him outside, but White Hawk manages to break free. He tries to grab Handyman's head to crush it, but he cannot secure a grip on Handyman's amorphous form.

    Sunlight Knight manifests a steed, but Châtelet hits him, Été, a rising Joules, and The Brass Shield all with a large barrier. A crackle of bronze light surrounds the Brass Shield, leaving him unmoved, but Sunlight Knight is pushed back and Été and Joules are sent flying. The three of them end up in the front yard.

    Menagerie Witch is creating clones as fast as she can, and Black Swan and Doctor Silver are providing cover for Belle Sabreuse and Yara.

    You turn to Valiant Gold, just as she makes her move.


    DC 13.

    Stat Check: OPERATIONS 8. Valiant Gold has OPERATIONS 9.

    You rolled: 6.

    6 + 0 = 6

    Valiant Gold explodes forward, tackling Seraph and throwing her out of the house. But as she does, you see Stockpile's armor cracking with blue light. Valiant Gold's eyes go wide as she shouts.

    "No! Doc, Mona, get away from him!"

    Her warning is the only thing that prevents utter catastrophe. A blue light explodes out of Stockpile's body, and fills the room. You feel something tingle in the back of your skull, and your vision temporarily blurs. You see that everyone but Valiant Gold and Crusade is similarly affected.

    But that's nothing compared to Doctor Silver and Black Swan.

    Doctor Silver falls to one knee, clutching his head and gritting his teeth in agony.

    Doctor Silver takes one injury level! Superficial injury!

    Black Swan flew out of the house as fast as she could as soon as she heard Valiant Gold's warning, but she is still caught in the tail end of the light. The effect is profound. Her whole construct body flickers, revealing her core for a second, and she lets out a blood-curdling scream that chills you to the bone.

    Black Swan takes one injury level! Superficial injury!

    Black Swan takes one injury level! Severe injury!

    Black Swan takes one injury level! Critical injury!

    She somehow finds the strength to keep flying and get out of the house. Before you can even ask her for her status, Valiant Gold is upon Stockpile.

    "I'm going to kill you," she says, cold as The Frozen Throne.

    She grabs Stockpile by the shoulder and leg and throws him through the front wall of the house and into the yard with the rest of his team. But, before he hits the ground, his form blinks and he reappears on the ground, on his feet.

    Valiant Gold races forward, surrounded by a blazing red aura, and swings a psychic blade from her wrist. Stockpile's forearm glows as he matches the strike, cutting through the energy with a blade as his own. They clash, push each other back, and stare each other down.

    You are with her in an instant. "Valiant Gold, report!"

    "It's his armor. He's powering it right now by draining our psychic fields," she says, voice tight, "The EXCEED-BEYOND makes me immune to it, and it will take some time for you to start feeling the effects, but Doctor Silver is hurt and it could have taken Mona out entirely."

    She curses under her breath again, eyes never leaving Stockpile.

    "I should have knocked him away. Seraph was the decoy. Stupid. Stupid."

    "Focus. How do we stop him from using it again?"

    "We can't. It's still active; it's a persistent field. We need to disable his armor now before everyone starts taking damage."

    Valiant Justice is using his armor to siphon your team's psychic fields and enhance his own HIT. Unless disabled, after three HIT checks, everyone within 50 ft of him will take one injury level and Valiant Justice will power up. If in range, Doctor Silver will take two injury levels and Black Swan will take four. Injury levels from the PREVAIL armor will disregard shield generators and Doctor Silver's shields.

    You take a quick stock of the battlefield. You, Valiant Gold, and Handyman are in the front yard with Valiant Justice, Été, and Joules. Black Swan is in the sky with Seraph, Sunlight Knight, and White Hawk. Yara, Belle Sabreuse, Menagerie Witch, Châtelet, and Doctor Silver are still in the house with The Brass Shield.

    If Valiant Gold is right, you're on a timer. Stockpile thinks the worst of you, and White Hawk seemed to be looking for a fight. You don't think there will be any talking them down.

    Someone provoked this fight. You suspect you know who. Socialite Butterfly lurks somewhere in the background, waiting for you and Crusade to pick each other apart.

    What do you do?



    Currently:

    Yara has one injury level.

    Doctor Silver has one injury level.

    Black Swan has three injury levels.

    Doctor Silver, Lady Leizi, and Menagerie Witch all have one shield generator.

    Belle Sabreuse has one shield generator and one healing symbiote. Unless directed otherwise, she will give both to Yara.

    Menagerie Witch has no active Chimeras.

    Doctor Silver has 3 charges of his shields remaining. He has not applied the Hustle to anything.

    What are your orders? Bonuses will be awarded for good plans.

    [ ] Write-In (Subject to QM veto)

    VOTING WILL OPEN TOMORROW EST.
     
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    • IT BEGINS.

    I will open the voting later than usual tomorrow, to give people time to formulate and discuss plans. Buckle up.

    This update brought to you by so many words.
     
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