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Project Prometheus (Original Setting Superhero Quest)

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Bitterman said:
Louisa Cyper was having a terrible Christmas Eve.

"And we're moving, and we're walking, and and we're looking—oh look, everyone! To your right is the infernal altar where the Medical Saint Nikolas made his pact with the Archfiend Mammon! In exchange for a centennial tithing of flesh and a single page of the Akashic Record, Nikolas gained immortality and the ability to transform feelings of joy and wonder into material goods! It is said that it was Nikolas' ambition to bring an end to human privation, which he attempted to do in an orgy of largess once a year!"

The altar was black slab of obsidian, concentrated with the heartsblood of a newborn babe poured over a rune containing a single letter of the true name of God. You could pay $49.99 to take a picture with. An extra $25 would get you a custom frame.

"Some say you can still hear Nikolas' scream of despair as he learned that attempting to sate the avarice in the hearts of men only makes it grow! Shhhh, let's all listen!"

The much-too-bubbly tour guide cupped her ear and leaned over the railing, toward the altar. The dozen or so people on the same tour as Louisa did the same, including, much to her embarrassment, her father.

"Pumpkin! Come listen," her father whispered, "I think you can really hear it!"

"Dad, stop it! They pump sound in here! We're at the bottom of the Arctic Ocean; the salt water creates a ward against spiritual contamination! Gahd!"

Louisa turned red in humiliation and crossed her arms. Her dad was such a dork! Why was he like that?!

Andromalius, a Great Earl of Hell, commander of thirty-six legions of the damned, punisher of thieves and the wicked, and uncoverer of all crooked dealings, was wearing a bright red Christmas sweater with a felt Santa-head. He constantly shed a thin layer of fuzz that got everywhere he walked. He worn his mortal guise, a man with ram's horns and a Great Serpent in one hand. The other hand held his disposable camera.

His friends called him "Andy".

"Aww, come on, Louisa, where's your Christmas spirit? We are at the original Santa's Workshop!" Andy said, speaking through the serpent in his grasp, "It wasn't easy getting a tour, nosiree! Guess your old man's still pretty connected, eh?"

He said that last bit while polishing his knuckles on his shirt. He then waggled his eyebrows in a way that made Louisa want to die.

"Whatever! I didn't want to spend my Christmas twenty-thousand league under the sea!"

"Twenty-thousand fathoms, pumpkin. 'Leagues' is a measure of distance, not depth."

"Fine, whatever, gahd!"

Louisa threw up her hands and stomped away. She was thirteen years old, and already all grown up. Unlike her dad, her clothing was anything but festive. She wore combat boots, black and white striped tights, a black pleated shirt, a beanie cap, and a black t-shirt that read "MILK-IN-A-BAG", the name of a band you aren't cool enough to have heard of yet.

"Louisa . . ." Andy sighed, "I know this is our first Christmas since your mom and I split up. It's . . . not gonna be the same, believe me, I know. But let's try to have fun anyway?"

". . . whatever."

"Alright, everyone!" the elven tour guide called, "Next up is the blood lathes where quintessence was made corporeal!"

"Oh, oh! You hear that, pumpkin? Blood lathes! You used to love blood lathes!"

"When I was little . . ." Louisa grumbled, walking away from the group.

"Where are you going? The lathes are the other way!"

"I need to pee, leave me alone!"

"Oh, okay! Well, hurry up! You don't want to miss the re-enactment of the Gingerbread Man Mass!"

". . . they don't even use real men for that any more."

* * *​

The dark cathedral of Santa's folly was a twisted abattoir of non-Euclidean geometry and sin given shape. The horrors that transformed Medical Saint Nikolas into the pestilent fiend, and later soft-drink spokesman, Santa Claus were as numerous as they were unspeakable. His followers were a cult of wood elves who abandoned the certainty of their flesh to become Christmas spirits who would take all feelings and make them undergo deposition into the material.

To receive a gift of Santa's was to experience a brief respite from desire. Only for that desire to come back a hundredfold when his Day of Giving ended. Only in his workshop could his gifts retain their magic throughout the year, and so his cult grew by the thousands from those seeking an end to their hunger.

But those who would take could not give, and so, well, that's you end up filling the extra bedrooms with blood lathes. At some point, the fey councilors from the Court of Sun, Moon, and Stars decided they should do something before all of the mass-death brought down their property values. So, around the monument to madness, they constructed an ever-shifting, ever-changing labyrinth that stretched from the waking world into the Dream. A pilgrim could seek Santa's Workshop for a thousand years and never go further than a step. That, coupled with the already-warped nature of space in that slaughterhouse, made it nearly impossible to navigate.

It also made it very difficult to find somewhere to pee.

Louisa wandered around for a good twenty minutes before finding an empty lavatory near a number of locked doors. Only to find, once she washed her hands and left, that the hallway outside the restroom had disappeared. All that was in front of her was a sealed coffin, bound with flames that were held together with a shard of the rock where Cú Chulainn died on his feet.

"Whatever," Louisa said. She then pulled out a gaming console, sat with her back to the coffin, and started playing.

She was trying not to cry, but this was the saddest she could ever remember feeling. Dad was trying—he really was—and she knew how much he wanted her to have a good Christmas. He had been so excited when she asked to stay with him for the holidays. Only . . .

Only, she hadn't asked because she wanted to. She asked because the choice was made for her.

Hot tears dripped from her face and onto the screen of her handheld as a voice, both booming and whisper-soft in the back of her head, spoke.

"DO YOU SEEK SUCCOR, CHILD? AND END TO HARD FEELINGS?"

"No, shut up!"

"I CAN FREE YOU FROM THE PAIN OF EMOTION. THE AGONY OF CHOICE. ENTER INTO A PACT WITH ME, BREAK THE SEAL, AND HAVE YOUR HEART'S DESIRE."

"My heart's desire is that you shut up!"

"HERE, THINGS OLDER AND MORE TERRIBLE THAN YOU CAN IMAGINE DWELL. NIKOLAS SOUGHT TO FILL THE SOUL AND END SUFFERING. BUT HIS FOLLOWERS WERE IMPATIENT, UNABLE TO BEAR THE PAIN OF PRIVATION EVEN A SINGLE DAY LONGER."

The room was silent except for Louisa's game. She was playing a fighting game—the character-select screen music abruptly ended when she chose her fighter and the announcer shouted, "Lady Leizi!"

"THEY TURNED AWAY FROM THEIR OWN CORPOREAL EXISTENCE, AND, IN THE PROCESS, INVITED DARK THINGS FROM THE ID OF THE COLLECTIVE GESTALT. NIKOLAS BOUND THE DAMONES THAT LEAKED THROUGH IN SIX-HUNDRED AND SIXTY-SIX SEALS, THEIR POWER KEEPING HIS WORKSHOP ABOVE THE ICE."

Louisa started in training mode. There wasn't any signal in the room, so she couldn't play ranked. Instead, she decided to just lab.

"WHEN THE FAE COURTS BOUND HIS WORKSHOP TO THE DREAM, HE COULD NO LONGER FUEL HIS BINDINGS. AND SO, HIS WORKSHOP SANK UNDER THE WEIGHT OF IT'S OWN SIN, DISAPPEARING UNDER THE ICE."

Louise got bored and decided to play story mode. She had already beaten it, but she wanted to see Ellie confess her feelings to Mona again. BlackGold was her OTP.

"I AM ONE SUCH DAEMON. I CAN SEE YOUR SOUL. THE SUFFERING WITHIN IT. YOUR FATHER DOES NOT SEE THE RENDS IN YOUR HEART. OR, PERHAPS, HE HAS TOO MANY OF HIS OWN. YOUR MOTHER . . . WAIT, WHAT THE HELL?"

The room went silent as Louisa quickly shut off her game. Her breathing hitched.

"UHHHH, WOW. OKAY. WOW. UMMM. SHOOT. THAT'S ROUGH, KID. YOU'RE A HALF-BLOOD THEN?"

Louisa had the characteristic, pointed ears of an elf . . . and two budding horns on her forehead. The combination marked her as a demi-fiend, a child with blood of both the infernal and the fair folk.

Noticeably, her horns were rounded. Her mother had forced her to file them down to nubs; she had only stopped recently and they would have to grow a little more before she could sharpen them again.

"THAT'S MESSED UP. I'M JUST GONNA SAY IT. I MEAN, SHE MARRIES A GREAT DUKE OF HELL, HAS A KID, THEN DIVORCES HIM TO BECOME A PALADIN OF . . . SANDALPHON?! UGH. I HATE THAT GUY!"

Louisa's silent tears had turned into big, ugly sobs. The kind that come from a parent no longer looking at you with love in their eyes.

"OH, COME ON, DON'T DO THAT. UMM. UMMM. YOU WANT A . . . JEEZ, WHAT DO KIDS LIKE . . . A SIGMA TOILET OR WHATEVER?"

"I just want you to shut up!" Louisa screamed. She then reached into the flames and ripped the seal free.

* * *​

"Dammit Andy, dammit Andy, dammit Andy! You're blowing it! Your baby girl wants to spend Christmas with you, and you go and lose her! Ahhh! I knew we should have just done our usual tradition at home! I just thought something special would take her mind off things . . ."

Great Earl Andromalius was currently racing through tears in space, trying to find his daughter. He had gotten worried when she hadn't returned after ten minutes. After fifteen he was texting her, and after twenty he was fully panicking.

Louisa was right—being concentrated in salt meant the dark magic in Santa's Workshop was mostly neutered. Mostly.

There were a few things even an ocean of salt couldn't bury.

He broke the lock on another pocket dimension and felt his phone ping. Lousia's Find my Phone! He felt terrible that he had forgotten to remove her phone from his list—kids need their privacy!—but now he was relieved.

Up until he entered the daemon's Domain and saw that his seal was broken. And that Louisa was the one who broke it.

"Pumpkin!" he screamed in horror, racing forward, hoping that it wasn't—but knowing it was—too late.

He could hear the daemon speak.

"LOOK, I'M REALLY NOT COMFORTABLE WITH THIS."

"You need a moral shell, right?! Well, here, take it! I'm just "tainted ground that must make itself worthy of being reforged"! So you may as well take my body and soul!"

"Who in the world told you that?!"

Louise whipped around. Her eyes were red and puffy. "D-dad? What are you doing here?"

"OH, HELLO SIR. THIS IS NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE. YES, YOUR DAUGHTER BROKE A NINEFOLD WARD AGAINST EVIL, AND, YES, I COULD DEVOUR HER EXISTENCE, BUT I WASN'T—"

"Excuse me!" Andy said, more brusquely than was polite, "I am talking to my daughter."

"AH. YES. EXCUSE ME."

"Now, pumpkin," Andy said gently, kneeling down so his face was level with his daughter's, "What's going on here?"

Louisa tried to snap at him that it was "nothing" and she was "fine", but, when she open her mouth, her voice hitched and this came out instead:

"I . . . I didn't ask to spend Christmas with you because I wanted to. I mean, I did, b-but Mom . . . she kicked me out."

". . . what?" Andy said, uncomprehending.

Louisa wiped her eyes, looking away. Tears still flowed. "S-she . . . her new boyfriend doesn't like me. He doesn't like that I'm half-fiend. T-they . . . tried to bring me to the Silver City to rid me of my infernal blood. They s-said I had to enter into a pact with the Metatron and serve as his blade for seven-thousand, seven-hundred, and seventy-seven years, a-and only then I would be cleansed."

"WOAH."

Andy's mouth dropped open in horror. "Oh no, no, no. Pumpkin, you didn't—"

"N-no! I said no! Mom got so mad at me and we started screaming at each other. She . . . she said she loved me, but that her love for me was a temptation to deliver her into evil. That I had to either be purified o-or . . ."

Louisa started sobbing again.

"Or she'll have to pray that the Presence gives her the strength to cut out that part of her heart . . . she left for the Silver City and said I should go spend Christmas with you."

"MAN, I KNEW THAT ALREADY AND IT'S STILL A BUMMER HEARING IT OUT LOUD."

"W-why doesn't she want me?" Louisa sobbed, "W-what's wrong with me?"

"Nothing!" Andy snarled, before catching himself. He deliberately forced himself to calm down before, "Nothing is wrong with you, pumpkin. You're amazing just the way you are. I am . . . so, so proud of who you are. And, while I haven't always agreed with how your mother's wanted to raise you, this . . ."

"GOTTA SUE FOR FULL-CUSTODY, BRO. YOUR EX-WIFE JOINED A CULT."

"Now's not the time for that." Andy pulled his daughter into a hug. "I'm so sorry, pumpkin. I was so concerned with making today special, that I didn't even see how much pain you were in. Can you forgive me?"

Louisa nodded in his chest.

"Thank you. Let's go home. We can decorate cookies and watch A Colbert Christmas."

"O-okay . . ." Louisa sniffled. "I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, pumpkin."

"AWW, THAT'S CUTE. UMM, I STILL HAVE HER SOUL THOUGH . . . I GUESS I CAN RENOUNCE MY CLAIM, BUT PER THE WHEEL OF SAMSARA, I NEED TO BE COMPENSATED FOR IT STICK."

"Well, Mr. Daemon," Andy said, sticking his hands on his hips, "Then why don't you come spend the holidays with us? You can have some of my famous Christmas goose, and we'll call it square!"

"REALLY?"

"You betcha!" Andy said, rubbing his daughter's head, "We have a traditional game of Monopoly to play, but it's no fun with only two people!"

". . . CAN I BE THE RACECAR?"

Andy looks to Louisa, who nodded. "Oh, okay. But I get battleship!"

"YIPPIE!"

The two of them turned to walk out, the incorporeal daemon in tow. As it turns out, the daemon's seal was the only thing binding Nikolas to death, and that night he rose again to rid the planet of Want.

As the realm of elves and men burned, Andy draped a blanket over his daughter. She had fallen asleep at the table, a smile on her face. His heart ached, seeing his little girl so grown up.

"KIDS, MAN. THEY MAKE IT ALL WORTH IT."

"You have children?" Andy spoke into the ether.

"COUNTLESS SCREAMS OF AGONY AS MAN FAILS TO LEARN HIS LESSON OVER AND OVER. I COULDN'T BE MORE PROUD!"

Andy chuckled, and poured a little rum into his eggnog. He offered a second cup to the air, where it was consumed by the shadow on the moon at night.

"OOOH, SPICY. GOOD STUFF. ALSO, HEY, IF YOU NEED A LAWYER, I KNOW A GUY . . ."

"He a daemon too?"

"NO, BUT HE'S ONE BITTER MAN!"

Andy and the daemon laughed long and hard. Outside, the forces of the Court of Sun, Moon, and Star along with the celestials of the Silver City did battle with the Yuletide Lich.

As Christmas's go, it was about a 7 outta 10.
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Oh, for those who might be interested, I wrote a thing for this year's Secret Santa contest. It's me at my most unhinged, so it's worth a laugh at least.
 
Bitterman said:
Oh, for those who might be interested, I wrote a thing for this year's Secret Santa contest. It's me at my most unhinged, so it's worth a laugh at least.
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I already complimented this story, but I just wanna say that I've looked through all of the prompts and I still have no idea what the hell this was inspired by. This work reminds me of all the Ibis and Warpstar scenes times ten, and I'm not 100% sure whether that's an insult or a compliment.
 
What if an alternative expression of the Shroud power could be what I have the Thousand Mirror Serpent in my second Keith Omake, walking into a world of mirrors?

It's broadly the same: using a medium to travel undetectable and inattackably.
 
ScorpioSting said:
What if an alternative expression of the Shroud power could be what I have the Thousand Mirror Serpent in my second Keith Omake, walking into a world of mirrors?

It's broadly the same: using a medium to travel undetectable and inattackably.
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I think it does make some sense if the power is something to do with being out of phase with normal reality in some way, with teleportation being one of the components.
 
Just caught up.
Revealed fact: Doctor Silver does not need line of sight to create barriers, and can do so even while paralyzed by the power.
Immediate questions: Can barriers be created inside blood vessels? Heart? Lungs? Brain? Can they single-handedly demolish every clone in a fatal way in rapid succession? Do clones die with Butterfly? Block Butterfly's airway, order her to telepathically command everyone via Seraph to stand down if she wants to live.
More nuanced thoughts need time to percolate.
 
rkyeun said:
Just caught up.
Revealed fact: Doctor Silver does not need line of sight to create barriers, and can do so even while paralyzed by the power.
Immediate questions: Can barriers be created inside blood vessels? Heart? Lungs? Brain? Can they single-handedly demolish every clone in a fatal way in rapid succession? Do clones die with Butterfly? Block Butterfly's airway, order her to telepathically command everyone via Seraph to stand down if she wants to live.
More nuanced thoughts need time to percolate.
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I'm gonna say not in bodies to avoid him becoming unstoppable, as was not the intent.

And welcome!
 
Personally, I imagine the Shroud synergy is something along the lines of 'Intangibility' - and that's why you need Teleportation and Invulnerability/Invisibility - you need Teleportation to maintain your sense of selfhood while being a goddamn shadow or whatever you turn into, and Invulnerability/Invisibility because if you turn into something intangible you're incredibly hard to damage, hard to notice, or both.

I'd say it's more about the individual than about 'creating' an abstract world that connects to the normal one.

...On that subject, I'd imagine the third piece of the puzzle could very easily be Transformation.
 
Parabola said:
Personally, I imagine the Shroud synergy is something along the lines of 'Intangibility' - and that's why you need Teleportation and Invulnerability/Invisibility - you need Teleportation to maintain your sense of selfhood while being a goddamn shadow or whatever you turn into, and Invulnerability/Invisibility because if you turn into something intangible you're incredibly hard to damage, hard to notice, or both.

I'd say it's more about the individual than about 'creating' an abstract world that connects to the normal one.

...On that subject, I'd imagine the third piece of the puzzle could very easily be Transformation.
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This isn't the one for intangibility, or, I should say, it's a more powerful version.

That said, intangibility is a synergy, yes.
 
Bitterman said:
I'm gonna say not in bodies to avoid him becoming unstoppable, as was not the intent.
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Mouth and nostrils good enough to not be in bodies? If she can't breathe, then maybe there's leverage and a timer. Butterfly has to be taken out quick SOMEHOW to stop the Clone Wars. I don't see how we win against EVERYONE without all the clones simultaneously suffering existence failure. They just have too many and too varied powers. Also, assuming we get out of this, thanks for all the DNA!
 
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Name: Chatroom, Yolando Gibbons
Power: Clairvoyance, Ally Empowerment
Faction: New Dawn
Potency: 4
Ibis' Notes: Chatroom was a support type metahuman, who never was on the frontlines. Unfortunately, her power was necessary at the QZ and she was killed by a rough Named-Behemoth, Frigg of the Dancing Mistletoe. Chatroom could link an unlimited number of allies together telepathically, allowing them to instantaneously communicate and share images and feelings with one another. She had to be within several hundred yards to maintain the effect, but it was invaluable in the heat of battle. I just wish she didn't insist on solely communicating through metal "emojis". I can't even use them on my screen, let alone in reality!
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I was doing some work on a dramatis personae project and came across this in our DNA archive in the Character Sheet and Organization Sheet informational threadmark.

For SB, we know that she got a hold of a bunch of New Dawn's members and made copies at some point, however we also know that SB cannot have gotten Chatroom, because if she did it makes her whole issue of needing to verbally give instructions moot. Having an instant chatroom to tell your minions what to do while receiving live updates on what they are seeing is very powerful, especially as she could have hidden with Chatroom and not gone anywhere near the fighting before her minions had dealt with them.

So we can safely conclude that Chatroom is not an Admirer of SB's, or there are limitations to SB's powerset that we do not know about. Still it moves my mind from all of New Dawn has been copied to most of new Dawn has been copied. The alternative is SB is deliberately hamstringing herself or being made to do so. Though I can't think of a reason why she would do the former given the state of play before Valiant Gold became the Koolaid Man. For the latter, I can see why the Philosophers in general would want her to have exploitable limitations, but unless Faust has a contract with her I'm not sure how they could enforce that and given she already went off the reservation by showing up in person that seems unlikely.
 
doruma1920 said:
Having an instant chatroom to tell your minions what to do while receiving live updates on what they are seeing is very powerful, especially as she could have hidden with Chatroom and not gone anywhere near the fighting before her minions had dealt with them.
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She mentioned it last update, but telepaths, even "False Telepaths" like Chatroom are really, really hard to sneak up on. And if they find her out, they can easily broadcast news of her existence. The opportunity to grab her never came up, which is why she was so happy to get Seraph.
 
Bitterman said:
She mentioned it last update, but telepaths, even "False Telepaths" like Chatroom are really, really hard to sneak up on. And if they find her out, they can easily broadcast news of her existence. The opportunity to grab her never came up, which is why she was so happy to get Seraph.
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It implies to me that SB got a bunch of New Wave Dawn at a *heh* socialite gathering, or some other PR event where New Wave Dawn was gladhanding. Possibly a charity or otherwise raising funds for New Wave Dawn. Cause trying to sneak up on New Wave Dawn to copy them while they have Chatroom up and running in open combat strikes me as unwise. This means it may be possible to track down where/when she copied a bunch of New Wave Dawn, and therefore who else she may have copied that we haven't confirmed. Assuming she didn't do it slowly overtime that is.

Edit: Gosh darn it!
 
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Bitterman said:
This isn't the one for intangibility, or, I should say, it's a more powerful version.

That said, intangibility is a synergy, yes.
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Another one to ask wulong about.

Intangibility would be great for espionage.

Though QM would something like a Synegy to enhance Intelligence that isnt Algernon viable question?

Since Ops requires knowledge or ability to interact with technology is my read.
 
all right, just finished my first full reread, I haven't read any of the thread discussion though, so lemme just throw this in here in case it hasn't been talked about:
Ah, yes. Rakeem recorded this before the vote, didn't he? He didn't know at the time Nora would be "retired."

"If things are bad enough . . . initiate Project Prometheus. Only you, Nora, and I are aware of its existence and, of the three of us, you are best suited to lead it."
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This was established back when LL watched the final video messages every other team mate recorded. Has it been discussed that the video of Uiara that Stockpile is so hung up about could've been about Uiara getting wind of VS's work on Prometheus rather than anything related to the Movement as he thinks, since it'd involve working with Goldnine and Uiara wasn't read in on Prometheus?
As a reminder, this is the actual video message:
Jair . . . Dad, although I'm certain you don't deserve that title. It's been over ten years since we last spoke, and if I have my way it will be another ten. But this goes beyond us both. Nora . . . Valiant Silver . . . my love isn't in her right mind. I think . . . I think it's what happened to Avô. She's forgetting things, acting wild, and won't stop using her power. She's experimenting on things she shouldn't be. She's experimenting on the Leviathan.

I can't . . . I can't stop her. I can't get anyone else to listen to me either. They don't know her the way I do. They can't see how far gone she is. She's planning something tomorrow, some kind of grand project. I'm going to do what I can to stop her, but if I fail then you need to protect the rest of the city. You're a worthless father and a terrible human being, but, if you have an ounce of goodness in you, you will heed my warning.

Be ready. I pray this amounts to nothing and I have to spend the next year ignoring your calls again.
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FWIW, she does say that Nora is experimenting on the Leviathan, rather than on Goldnine, but I wouldn't put it beyond the realm of possibility that Uiara put different fragments of Nora's work together incorrectly to arrive at this conclusion, by all accounts Nora wasn't the most organised of workers.
 
doruma1920 said:
It implies to me that SB got a bunch of New Wave Dawn at a *heh* socialite gathering, or some other PR event where New Wave Dawn was gladhanding. Possibly a charity or otherwise raising funds for New Wave. Cause trying to sneak up on New Wave to copy them while they have Chatroom up and running in open combat strikes me as unwise. This means it may be possible to track down where/when she copied a bunch of New Wave Dawn, and therefore who else she may have copied that we haven't confirmed. Assuming she didn't do it slowly overtime that is.

Edit: Gosh darn it!
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We saw it happen on the page as it were, back in Fill-In Issue #2 PREVAIL:
You, the rest of New Dawn, and Belle Sabreuse and Yara all sit in a line in the front row. There was some minor scuffling with an usher about where Yara should sit, but the sight of six metahumans all united in purpose quickly put any protests to rest. As you move toward your assigned block of seats, you find a tall, blonde woman in a red dress and opera gloves sitting in your row.

"Excuse me, miss," you say as politely as possible so as to not scare her. Some people react badly to perceived hostility from metahumans. "I believe this is our assigned row of seats."

The woman gives you an intense look that you find off putting. But then she looks at her pass, laughs, and gives you a beatific smile. She apologies for her mistake and asks you to forgive her.

"Of course," you say, "No harm done."

She asks if, by chance, you are Wolong of New Dawn? She doesn't know too many people who dress in the way you do.

"I am. And this is a team of our members with us as well as some new friends."

Wonderful! She is such a fan. She says this may be an odd request, but could she shake your hand?

You frown. That is an odd request. But before you can protest, she takes off a glove and takes your hand in hers. She then goes down the row and shakes hands with Gentleman James, Miss Naught, Palisade, and Dreamcatcher. She is very enthusiastic, sometimes even grabbing a forearm or shoulder. She goes for Yara, but she hides behind Belle Sabreuse.

"Pardon us," the masked musketeer says, "We are not with New Dawn and not used to the attention."

The woman says it's alright but goes for the handshake again anyway. Yara acts more frightened and you see Belle Sabreuse's hand drifting to her waist again. You intervene—the whole situation is now deeply concerning—but the woman scowls and disappears.

You blink. What were you doing again?
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Related enough tangent to talk about something I was thinking about; our next Promethean is probably going to get their ass kicked by Socialite Butterfly's clones.

No, hear me out! So far, we've seen that every Promethean gets their ass kicked in their first two fights. Rhys went up against FVM (not fooled by his shapeshifting) and Scarlet Maturity (who's Scarlet Maturity). John went up against the Wonderland villains (who he didn't notice until too late) and currently SB (who had Mr. Whaa?)

As such, it's reasonable to assume that if Yara gets her powers early and we HAVE to power up more people to keep up with the vertical difficulty curve, someone like Shelley with a Nox build will go up against SB clones, who have no intense emotions to drain.

Meanwhile, it's reasonable to assume that this will happen to Song:


(Yes, I made the entire post for this one joke.)
 
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