A New Chance

[Gnomish Wanderer]

Jason remained fixated on his hands for a moment. What happened? Moments later he felt Draven walk toward him, and remained still as the other man spoke. As Jason began to concentrate on everything around him, he felt it; the familar aura around the newcomer.

He's one of them, one of the weird ones.

Jason looked over at Jen again, watching her shake and move inhumanly. He turned toward Draven finally, his eyes searching for emotion, other witnesses, and inside the hospital itself to see who was going to react to the screams.

Jason took deep breath and ended it in a sigh. "I'm... I-..." he says. "Sorry." He then took off down the street, running as fast as he could, just trying to outrun what happened, trying to run from himself.

[harmonictempest]

Gust

Gust doesn't quite smile, but there is a glint in his eye as he moves around to the side of the car, still keeping it immobilized as best he can. When he is facing the driver's side door, still about 15 feet away, he gestures the cops over.

Spot check to see who's inside the car and what condition they're in:
Spot - (1d20+15)[35]

((Edit: Wow...I'd kinda hoped to save my nat 20 for actual combat, but that works too.))

[PlasticSoldier]

[Well when you don't have much time for vengeance, you sometimes have to] [settle with giving someone a life-threatening & crippling wound @ pointblank]

Orig. says "Thanks" to the guards as he reloads his gun. Then says "Drill, get your namesake, their guns, whatever money's nearby, and wait here." to Drill who starts to do so. "I'm going to go make our escape easier." Orig. then walks into the security room and says to guy there "If you say anything over the intercom while I'm leaving, I'll find your name in this morning's newspaper article and have a sniper waiting at Police HQ just for you. Got it?"

Spoiler

Show

Intim - (1d20+21)[38]
By the way I've standardised my speaking colors, Orig. has DarkOliveGreen, #1 has the one to the right of it in the color thing, #2's is 2 to the right, #3 is 3 right, etc.

[Tar Palantir]

The Reaper

The Reaper nods. "So be it. Am I correct in assuming I am free to go?" As he waits for the answer, he melds with the shadows in the small square he is standing in, and almost instantly emerges on the other side of the fence, clearly showing that he was staying of his own free will. He then turns to the colonel, and says, "It just so happens that some of those things were already on my to do list. I'll pick up a cell phone sometime tomorrow and give you the number, in case you need me." He then turns to Nosferatu and Pulse. "Would you be willing to assist in D-Train's forcible retirement? Tomorrow at five, at (insert location here)."

[MountainKing]

The sound of organ music mingled with the sound of applied synthesizer, and in the midst of it all, a young man sat alone in his apartment, eyes closed as his fingers plied the keys of the Yamaha. Gerard had worked hard to earn the instrument, paying a thousand dollars on it in his brief run in college. For two years now, the instrument was the only thing keeping him sane, but now... as of a few days ago, perhaps that sanity had suddenly shattered, annihilated by the emotional whiplash of self discovery. Leather gloves covered his hands, a black and white mask half depicting Thalia, half Melpomene covering his entire face, hugging firmly to his skin by means of both the mask's nature and the leather strap that held it in place. A tight black t-shirt exulted over his newly defined musculature, black Levi's and leather boots flexing as his foot tapped in time to the music. It was three o'clock in the afternoon, and Gerard Laarson had not slept... had not needed to sleep in over three days.

It was a peculiar thing, he knew, but at the moment, he did not care. He did not hunger, nor thirst, but was not perturbed. He had put in for his two weeks worth of paid time off that he had saved up over the last several years, having been in the employ of a local retailer since his college life had begun. A new era had begun, however, and the music began creeping to a crescendo, and suddenly the CD player cried out in time with Gerard as he stopped playing; this song had more instruments in it than just a keyboard, after all.

"Miiiiiiiister Crowley... What went on in your head?" The organ began to play once more, slowly weeping out of the Yamaha under the skillful touch of Gerard. He had this skill, and now he had power... limitless it was not, but compared to the powerlessness of his former life, Gerard felt he could shake the foundations of the world.

"Ooooh, Mr. Crowley, did you talk to the dead?" Yes, he felt he had. Gerard had wept his bitter tears many times over, begging forgiveness from his best friend, now long deceased. As the song continued, Gerard felt himself slowly giving way to the music, further and further... until a pounding began at the door.

"Come on Laarson, knock that crap off, will ya?! I'm watchin' The Price is Wrong in here, and I'd like to hear it!"

Gerard... no. Muse stopped playing, cracking his knuckles as he stood, then turned off the CD player. A few steps was all it took to reach the door, and he opened it slowly, revealing his masked face to the overweight, balding man in a greasy shirt and sweat pants standing before him. The landlord.

"Mr. Rex Turner, please, come in. I've been expecting you." Muse murmured, his mouth twisted into a smile, though his landlord would never know it. He took a step back, gesturing into the apartment and opening the door, physically bidding the man come inside. It did not even register as a concern to Muse that his landlord appeared physically uncomfortable upon laying eyes on his tenant... perhaps a mixture of Muse's mask and the apparent aura of extreme uneasiness that Muse gave off was unsettling the man, but Mask did not care; rather, it delighted him to see a man who once held such power over him quaking before him.

"Uh, I... look, Laarson, I've gotta go... The Price Is Wrong is on and-" Muse held up a hand, cutting the fat man off.

"I will not ask again, Mr. Turner. We have a matter that we need to discuss; a pressing one, and one that I am certain will be rather... important, to you as well." Nodding slowly, the landlord stepped quickly inside, and Muse shut the door, motioning him to a couch, set facing away from the door. Muse himself, however, remained standing even as the lock softly clicked shut.

"So, uh... what's this about?"

"It is simple, Mr. Turner; I do not wish to deal with the aggravating expense of paying you rent, any longer." Anger welled up in Turner's face, giving the man strength to look into the dark holes of the mask.

"Tough crap, big guy! Your lease ain't up for another six months! You movin' out ain't gonna get you out of owin' me money, and if you try anything, I'll put your ass in jail! I'll-" Again, Muse raised a hand, unmoved by his blustering landlord's jockeying.

"Enough. You clearly do not understand my position, nor the peril of your own." His right hand shaped as if he were holding an invisible conductor's baton, Muse raised his left hand, palm upward, to chest level. As the hand rose, the anger, and subsequently, the color in Turner's face fell. The overweight man began to convulse, pudgy hands slapping to his limbs and clutching at an incredible pain that seemed to spring from every nerve in his body.

"Sing for me, Mr. Turner," Muse stated humorlessly as his hands dropped to his sides. With a great heaving effort, Turner rose from the couch and staggered to the door, eyes rolling like some crazed animal.

"I-I'm callin' t-the cops, Laarson! Your ass is goin' down! I-" the man paused, his mind apparently unable to understand why the door wasn't opening, though he could distinctly understand the mental image of his tenant now standing before him, mere feet away, a long bladed dagger in hand.

"Don't you see? No? Perhaps you don't," Muse said, sick, sarcastic humor dripping from his words, even as suddenly he, and the rest of the apartment, vanished from Turner's vision. The only sound he could make was a strangled, half sob, half gasp as a strong hand gripped him by the throat, flinging him through his unseen world and causing him to stumble and fall. Crawling, Rex Turner unwittingly went in the very direction his antagonist wished him to, tears and mucus wet on his face as terror fueled the fires of his primal urge to flee.

With a thud, he bumped into the bathtub, and with shaking hands, he used the familiar seeming surface to stagger to a standing position. Suddenly, his vision crashed back into clarity, the inky blackness of before vanishing from his sight. Before him stood Muse, dagger in hand.

"L-look, L-Laarson, don't do this... I gotta... you gotta g-get me to the h-hospital... I think I'm dyin' or somethin'! Come on, you can have the apartment, okay?! H-Have some pity!" Turner cried as he stepped backwards, though the bathtub stood steadfast, and his overweight body went crashing into the tub's embrace. Pinpoints of brilliantly colored light flashed before his eyes, his vision swimming as only Muse's voice pierced the murk of the stunning blow he had dealt to his own head.

"No, Mr. Turner. It's too late for prayers and useless pity!" There was a sudden, burning pain in Rex Turner's chest, as the long dagger plunged downward, into his heart, the angle sliding the cold steel between his ribs and avoiding his sternum.

Muse wiped the blade clean; he had some contractor trash bags in the kitchen, and a plundered grocery cart from work stashed outside. Idly, he reached to a vase atop his Yamaha, plucking out a single rose, which he placed upon his former landlord's chest.

"Good night, sweet prince."

[evisiron]

Nosferatu

Nosferau stiffles a mix between a sigh and a laugh as Reaper slips from his 'prison'. On one hand, it was like he was demonstrated that he was never really turning himself in as he could leave at any point. On the other, it was funny to see the initial setup falter so quickly. Then again, a dozen armed guards is enough of a contingency in most cases, not to mention the superhero backup.

"Well, I guess that means our work here is done. And yeah, shutting down some local gang sounds like a good idea. We should be careful though, maybe its different for you, but I am not entirely sure how far these powers extend. I would hate to end up like the fictional Bulletproof Man. Incidently, he was killed with a crossbow bolt.

But as for now, I guess we better split. I will probably be heading back into the city. How about you guys? Oh, one sec"

Nosferatu quickly walks to the portable TV, folds it up, and returns it to the barrel, writing a THX in the dust beside it.
Returning to the group, Nosferatu hands out a few more small pieces of paper with his number written on it, in case the army or mayor should need to contact him.

If at any point Inferno and Titan are left alone with us:

Spoiler

Show

"Hey, great job helping out army get set up. You might have heard about the fire in the city. A bunch of mutates jumped to help people from the blaze, Reaper, Pulse and myself included. Anyway, I was able to get hold of a microphone at called the mutates together, and we organised to have a meeting tomorrow at noon in the abandoned quarry [additional directions if neccesary]. We might be forming some kind of group, so we can work better to help people. Feel free to come alone if interested, and tell any other well meaning mutates you know, if any."

Nosferatu looks back towards the uniformed figures.

"Keep it mutates only though. If anything comes of the meeting, we will tell the officials. But until then we want to keep it amoung people who are in our somewhat unique situation. Hope to see you there"

If there is nothing else to be said by anyone around (may be changed, but putting it here for faster moving):

Spoiler

Show

"I am heading back to the city then. You know how to reach me if you need me. I will keep a keen eye out for trouble until then"

Nosferatu lifts up, and starts to fly back towards the city, flying alongside Pulse if he is heading back as well.

[Tar Palantir]

The Reaper

The Reaper says, "As for me, I believe I will look up this Dark fellow. I much desire to speak with him, although I am not yet sure why. Only time will tell."

(edited due to later post)

[evisiron]

Nosferatu

*Tries to stop Reaper*

OOC: Assuming talk away from NPCs

"Hey Reaper. If you are looking for Dark, I can probably get in contact with him for you. Normally I would not give out someones number, but he did appear on TV, so few secrets there...

Waaaait a second. Did you say "I much desire to speak with him"?! Haha, you may not remember much of your past, but you remember Lord of the Rings quotes. Man, I hope you weren't a nerd or the anti videogame nuts will have a field day with this one."

Nosferatu ends the sentence in a joking tone, then gets back onto topic.

"Tell you what, I can text him then we can ring him on my mobile. You can either get your query sorted over the phone, or arrange a time to meet with him. He's pretty cool, and a bit strange. I have no doubt that he would want to meet with you for one reason or another.

Or, if you want to be patient, he should be at the meeting tomorrow. You could meet him there."

As long as Reaper does not speak against it (and is still here), Nosferatu pulls out a mobile phone (black, of course) and starts a message:
Hi Dark. I am standing beside the reforming Reaper, and he "much desires to speak with you". I said you would probably be interested and could get in contact. Can you talk now, or shall we see you tomorrow?

[Tar Palantir]

The Reaper

The Reaper pauses, turning to Nosferatu. "I'm afraid that such speech patterns simply come naturally to me. Such coincidences are likely to happen from time to time. Back to Dark, I would prefer to speak to him tonight, before the general meeting. In person, if possible. I just have a feeling, and my feelings tend to keep me alive. Relay my desire for a face to face meeting, preferably after nightfall, if you would be so kind."

[Nelphine]

Murky

Murky slips through the shadows into the room underneath the trap door. He walks over to the crates, and takes a look into the smaller one, holding shotguns.

'This is just like the movies; bad guys, lairs, guns. A bigger bad guy with a bigger gun at the end. Just need a girl and some kind of treasure and this'll be right out of a western.'

Murky suddenly has a flash of a movie seen long ago - he sits at his father's feet, watching, awe in his eyes as the hero gallops into certain death to save the town. This was what it meant to be on the side of good! This was what it meant to be a grown up! The long-ago Michael resolved then and there that he would learn to ride horses and would be able to shoot beer bottles from 100' away.

Michael then went to high school, was bullied by his elders, and bullied younger boys in turn. He forgot about that long ago movie, the purpose of that man and his horse. He forgot his dreams, found reality too bleek for them; he barely passed high school, and moved to the big city. The city was his barely felt attempt at reviving a dream. The move became his last step toward a rut in a dead end job. He picked up mechanics in order to tell people he had a hobby, a passion; and he did love mechanics, but he had no talent for it.

The explosion made his life physically grey. His choices before the explosion made his life emotionally grey.

These three punks would be his first real step into finding a new role in life. Murky stands next to the crates, unaware of the tactical benefit of being behind them. Similarly he didn't notice that it made no logical sense for him to plan to tap the first punk on the shouler. Something told him that was how to deal with these punks, and that was good enough.

Murky melts out of the shadows and taps the nearest punk on the shoulder, his black arm unravelling from his clothing and stretching across the inhuman distance.

Spoiler

Show

Touch attack against a hopefully flat-footed opponent, and hopefully from an unexpected (possibly even rear!) direction. (1d20+5)[21] Damage (4d6)[16] 7 PP spent. Assuming the thug drops, Murky picks up his shotgun and transfers it to his normal arms. If the thug doesn't drop Murky either grabs a remaining shotgun from the small crate if there is one, or readies the large revolver taken from the store clerk.
And one assumes initiative is required (1d20)[2]
Incidentally, are there any other obvious exits from this little trap door room?

[dfpiii]

Professor Dark aka Paragon

Spoiler

Show

I think Dark would probably receive the text message while in the car back from the studio. So this would be before he spoke to Crow and Alex.

The professor feels his phone buzz and reads the message. Lights pass over his face as the car drives through the growing gloom of the evening, heading back towards the Randolph Institute of Technology.

He replies: Mine is the only house on campus. Come LATE.

The last thing he needed was to be associated with a known murderer. But Dark trusted to the instincts of the young vampire - all things considered he had been a most useful contact - and Dark had always believed in allowing talent freedom to find its own niche.

But what on earth was he going to do with Reaper? Reformed characters were always so holier-than-thou; he would have to play this straight down the line.

And then there was the other issue. Do you cater for a late night meeting of the empowered? He didn't have anything in. Should he stop now and get chips and beer?

He'd seen films in which the President held late meetings and told people his chef could make anything they wanted. They never asked for anything, though. But who wanted steak at 1am? That's how you ended up with colon cancer. And of course when you visited a master criminal, they always offered you funny tea.

Dark had a lot of tea stored up, just in case people expected it, but he was now worried it was a tell. Would he one day be led away in titanium cuffs by Sergeant O'Mally saying, "To be sure, it was the tea that gave you away. Only the evil drink Lap-Sang-Soo-Shong, boy-o".

Then the Irish bastard would whistle and twirl his truncheon. And Dark would be top dog in the weirdest prison in the first world. Like Oz, but with elements of Oz.

"Stop!" Dark commanded the driver - who leapt six inches out of his seat - and the car skidded to a halt outside a corner store of the variety that was robbed every six hours.

"I have to get chips and beer. Wait here".

[Tar Palantir]

The Reaper

Reading the answer over Nosferatu's shoulder, the Reaper said, "Tell him I will come around 1 A.M. And tell him to leave the lights off, if he doesn't mind. Less suspicious for him and more comfortable for me."

[evisiron]

Nosferatu

Nosferatu swats his hand at Reaper, slightly annoyed at him reading over his shoulder.

"Oi! What are you, twelve? In fact, thats a very good question... What age are you, I wonder? Anyway, yeah, I will text him"

With a furious clicking of keys, Nosferatu sends a reply to Dark:
Yeah, Reaper says he can be there at about 1am. He asks you leaves the lights off if you don't mind. Good luck, and Don't Fear The Reaper!

There is a soft chuckle from Nosferatu at that, and he notices Reaper saw the text sent.

"Looks like you might have a theme song. In retrospect, we should have had that playing when you made your plea to the Mayor!"

[Tar Palantir]

The Reaper

The Reaper would have smirked, except he didn't have a mouth. He said, "Oh yes, very witty. Remind me to pick up a wooden stake and some garlic when I goo to the dollar store."

[evisiron]

Nosferatu

Nosferatu shakes his head, chuckling at the remark.

"While we are there we can grab some UV lights and a bucket of white paint. Maybe if we dump it over you people in the street wont be fleeing from you when you try to save them. Or a little sign that says "Not Evil"."

Nosferatu holds his hands in front of Reaper in a box shape, trying to work out the best place to attach the potential "Not Evil" sign.

[dfpiii]

((I think Alex and Dark are pretty much done for the evening - so feel free to turn up whenever. I have no idea when everybody else is)).

[MountainKing]

Muse was not finished with his gruesome deed; that would be far too simple. The last part of the afternoon still had some things to do; first off, a brief trip to the kitchen for a shaker of salt. Returning to his victim, he unscrewed the cap of the shaker, pour salt over the stab wound, pushing it into Rex Turner's flesh callously, packing the home-remedy coagulant tightly. Less of a mess, for certain. After this brief affair, he paused only to rinse the blood off of his fingertips and spray air freshener into the air... heavily.

That done, Muse unlocked his door and peeked into the hallway; nobody was present. He had the fortune, he supposed, of living in the apartment next to the landlord, and in a structure of low income housing where arguments with Turner were frequent, and the tenants were frequently not home during the day.

Striding the few paces to his former landlord's door, he found it still ajar; his foolish landlord had thought he would never leave the hallway, perhaps. Stepping into the room, he shut the door softly and promptly hunted for one thing, and one thing only: the master ring of keys for the complex... he found it in short order, in a tray filled with a disarray of loose change, crumpled tissues, and candy wrappers. Jangling the keys softly, Muse smiled behind his mask, and returned to his apartment, again peeking into the hall to ensure he would be unseen. Almost jauntily, he tossed the key ring over to the chair where his coat was hung...

----------

That evening, Muse had only one task remaining for himself: removing Rex Turner from his bathroom. Humorlessly, Gerard tore a cotton ball in half and packed his nostrils tightly, the mask sitting on his bed. The long bladed dagger's sheathe was strapped tightly to his left forearm, the pommel snug against his wrist. He had already retrieved the cart, and the four gallon can of gasoline for the lawnmower and snowblower from the shed behind the complex. Donning his coat, a black leather reverend's coat, he buttoned the closures with satisfaction swelling in his chest; his musculature had changed so drastically that the coat, while before a little tight, now fit snugly, but comfortably. Donning the mask once more, Muse topped everything off with a wide brimmed black leather hat, treated with waterproofing and his favorite piece of attire.

No... his second favorite piece of attire.

Groaning with effort, he hauled the rigid bulk of Rex Turner out of the bathtub, having triple bagged his former landlord with the contractor bags earlier and tied tightly; it would take some time before anyone noticed that the dumpster Turner was destined for was reeking of something truly unpleasant... and with any luck, that wouldn't happen, given that trash pickup for his destination occurred three days a week. With a great deal of effort, Muse managed the bundle into the shopping cart, having already opened the sliding glass door that opened to the back of the complex. Across the vacant lot, and across a parking lot, was the dumpster for an older mom'n pop restaurant's; Edna's, or some such. Both lots were cast in darkness; it would be the work of a few minutes.

A concerned meow pierced the silence of the apartment; Muse paused, turning to consider his cat.

"Do not worry, Orpheus. Daddy will return in a few minutes." Heaving against the shopping cart, Muse began his quiet trundling, gasoline can beneath the basket of the cart. Almost a hundred yards away, cars passed in the night, unconcerned and unaware of the macabre shopping trip underway. Some minutes later, Muse leaned against the dumpster, gasping from the effort of heaving the five foot two inch, two hundred and eighty pound landlord into the yawning maw of the garbage receptacle. Grunting, he heaved the four gallon gasoline can upright, dumping its contents into the dumpster along with the former landlord and God only knew what else; if the trash pickup didn't get to the body, surely the mixture of gasoline and who knew what else would take care of things in a somewhat less discretionary manner. Tossing the can into the cart, he made an equally stealthy return to the complex, returning the can to the shed, then the cart to his place of employment.

Upon his final return an hour of walking later, Muse sighed heavily, having locked his doors and windows, and drawn the shades. Collapsing to his couch, he smiled as Orpheus leapt onto the furniture with him, having recognized that with his gloves on, Muse's touch could not harm him. After taking a break, Muse stood, removing his mask and gloves, and changing his clothes to something he didn't care about getting bleach on.

It was late in the evening, but he had no need of sleep... and so, Gerard Laarson was going to clean his bathroom.

[Thrall_Of_Ao]

Draven/Oblivion
Near St. Paul’s Hospital

Watching the young guy run off down the street after making his lame apology, he looked back towards the nurse on the lawn, torn for a moment in indecision.

I came here to research the condition, and hopefully gain some level of insight into my own powers, but this is not what I expected.
…As it is though, this guy seems to be an ideal candidate in more ways than I could have hoped. Hopefully, he’ll be cooperative.

“Hey, just wait a minute man!” Draven shouted after the quickly retreating figure.

Being aware of his increased agility, he did his best to appear to run like a natural human, allowing himself to not fully close the distance with the young man, although he was certain that he was capable of overtaking him with ease.

“Wait up, I just want to talk!”

He seems so confused and uncertain, I’m sure I’ll be able to gain a lot of insight. The challenge will be to calm him down enough to get him to open up.

Draven continued to follow him down the street, sticking to the sidewalk and out of traffic.

I can’t afford to lose him, he’s simply too potentially valuable…and volatile if pushed too far. There’s really no telling what he might do…or what he’s capable of. I may have to use my abilities to catch up to him and possibly subdue him if necessary, but hopefully it won’t come to that.

[Wiz]

Dr. Harold Smith a.k.a. Pulse

Pulse listens to the mayor's decision and Reaper's reply before nodding as if privately agreeing with the whole matter. As the meeting breaks up he nods to the mayor, "My pleasure to meet you, your honor. You do honor to your role in this time of difficulty." He turns and tips his hat to the general. "Lt. General Kerrigan, good to see the Pentagon made the same choice as I would have for the man to take charge of the National Guard during the crisis. It actually brings positive meaning to the term Military Intelligence." He pauses as Reaper makes his request and Nosferatu replies, "Things are a little too unsettled at the moment, I think, to try taking out the gangs. I agree that we might want to tackle that at some time, but keeping track of the day-to-day disturbances might be better for now. The gangs, though illegal, do regulate some areas of the city. Weakening or taking out one will only cause the other two to start jockeying for position to take over their territory, which will cause more disruption... not less."

Pulse will then [unless someone pulls him aside for a moment to discuss something (which will take place in a different post) or immediately after; pull out his sonic screwdriver and point the beeping/flashing device at his briefcase which will unfold into his glider, and then he'll climb aboard. He will nod to Nosferatu, "See you tomorrow." And to Corporal Green, "Thank you for the ride, Corporal." Rising slowly into the air as his engine begins thrumming to full activity, he will fly away, taking an evasive course back to his home.

Arriving at home he will remove his costume and makeup, and prepare a large dinner as he turns up the thermostat for optimum working conditions. After several hours he will repair his computer, install new drives, prepare the old disk with the recovered drive, and carry it all down to the basement before returning to the den and activating it remotely. Harold activates the bluetooth screen and begins typing away on his keyboard. He notices that the input from his keyboard seems a little slow at first, the bluetooth signal lagging perhaps? Although he hadn't thought his magnetic signature would affect that. The problem steadies out though with a little time and he smiles to himself as he realizes he's suffered no major data loss from the recovered drive. He just needs to stay away from the main drive while it is in operation, and with the remote screen and keyboard, that should be no problem. He turns off the screen and moves to turn off the keyboard... and pauses, looking very startled at the keyboard in his lap which he's been using for the past hour. It's been off for the entire time!

[evisiron]

Nosferatu

Nosferatu breaks for a second in his banter with Reaper as he hears "See you tomorrow", and looks around to see Pulse already flying off into the distance, the plume of heavy smoke already dispersing in the wind.

"Dang, he left already? Oh well."

With a brief few seconds of concentration, Nosferatu recalls what Pulse had been saying in the background.

"Hmm.. he mentioned that bringing one gang down might cause more disruption. But with so much change going one in the environment at the moment mixed with the possibility that gang members might be super powered now, the gangs are likely already going turf crazy. By making a public display of stomping one down, we might get them to back off to the rocks they crawled out of.

What do you think Reap? It sounded like you were ready to start beating up some bad guys from the out-set. That still the case?"

[Tar Palantir]

The Reaper

The Reaper nods to Pulse as he flies off, then says, "Whatever occurs, there will be shifts in the balance of power. If we strike now and decisively destroy D-Train's gang, we can send the others the message that we will not abide by their presence. And with me in the assault, and some proper planning, we can put the fear of justice in them."

[Gnomish Wanderer]

Jason

Jason continued running, doing his best to dart through people and any other obstacle. His eyes darted the horizon frantically, trying to see through to somewhere he could hide, escape to. He could already feel the burn in his lungs, and the weakness of his muscles. Before he found anything, though, Jason 'felt' the guy behind him almost easily catching up.

He jumped into the nearest alley and turned, hands up defensively. He could again see his dad, yelling at him to do better and fight stronger. He felt the surge of anger rise up as he changed to one of the defensive positions he'd been raised on. I won't go down, I won't be the weaker one. I won't let just another freak beat me...

[evisiron]

Nosferatu

"I think we are agreed on that then. I will meet up with you in the evening, but will hopefully see you at the meeting before hand. I will try to make accomodations for you since we are in the middle of a pretty well lit area. How far can you 'shadow jump'?"

Nosferatu waits for an answer, already pondering how to sort this out. After Reaper replies, Nosferatu speaks again.

"Ah. Well, I best be off then. Try and lay low until the Mayor's decision is more public, if ever."

After another pause in case someone needed to speak, Nosferatu jumps into the air, and flies from the hanger.

***

Nosferatu glided through the air back towards the city. The sensation of flight still thrilled him, and he tried to guage the speed he was moving at. It seemed that the truck carried them faster on the straight lines. Still, being able to take straight line routes between A and B would give him an advantage over anyone based on the ground in the city. He would just need to think it out to catch any high speed foes.

Eventually Nosferatu reached the suburb outskirts of the city, where the houses each had a neat piece of front yard before the road. The gardens were well tended, and despite the highly organised nature of the local plant life, Nosferatu felt a little better being amongst them than in the 'concrete jungle' of the main city. In fact, it almost felt- GGGRRRRRRAAAAAHHHHH...GRAH GRAH, GRRRRAAHHHHHH. The loud mechanical noises jolted Nosferatu from his train of thought, and he scanned the area for the source. A few houses down, a man was wielding a large chainsaw, and taking large chunks out of a tree in his yard. With each stroke, Nosferatu could see the many teeth of the blade bite and rend through bark and wood, sending a spray of shattered chips into the air. At the corners the tree leaked sap like blood seeping from a mortal wound in slow motion. The tree shuddered with every strike, as if shaking with pain.

With a flare of illogical anger, Nosferatu swooped down, landing near the man before walking closer. The unnamed figure continued tearing the flesh of the tree until he was tapped on the shoulder. He looked around, his sap and wood chip covered overalls in stark contrast to the dark clothes of the figure beside him. The man stepped back, his eyes fixated onto the twisted face, with furrowed sloping brow casting a small shadow over the dark green eyes, that seemed to be filled with a cold fury. His hand relaxing on the handle, the motor stopped.

Nosferatu stared at the man, wearing what could almost be a butchers apron. Breaking eye contact, Nosferatu stepped to the tree, and looked it over. The chainsaw had cut several terrible wounds into the bark, and the pulpy wood flesh beneath. Deep inside, Nosferatu knew this tree would not survive.

The man stepped back as the dark figure drew his sword from the back scabbard, and slashed once through the tree trunk. The tree held for a second, before sliding apart at the neat cut. The figure caught onto a sturdy limb, and lowered it gently to the ground without it landing on the nearby car or fence. With a final look at the overalled man, the figure hoveed off the ground, and flew into the sky.

Nosferatu shook his head, the simmering anger that held him moments ago already filtering out of his body. With a mildly confused sigh, forced out of necessity, Nosferatu wiped the blade clean and slid it back into his scabbard and flew back towards the centre of the city, eyes once again looking out for trouble.

"What was that all about?"

[Thrall_Of_Ao]

Draven/Oblivion
Business District
Mid-Afternoon

((For Gnome4ever))

Spoiler

Show

I'm making a couple of assumptions here: 1. You don't have any powers feats or skills that allow you to run and hide at the same time. 2. He pretty much matches the "skinny highschool kid" stereo type appearance.

If either or these assumptions are incorrect, let me know. Otherwise, I'll assume you're going to include any character sheet related actions in spoiler boxes with rolls included.

This should be fun.

That little punk! He's acting like he's some kind of fugitive, and all I want to do is have a conversation with him! Now I know how the paparazi feel like...except without the excessive picture taking and the printing of the inevitable smear article of course.

"What's your problem kid? I'm on your side, I'm just trying to figure things out the same as you. We might even be able to help each other, if you'll just hold up a minute!" He said, calling it out loud enough to be heard clearly across the distance between them and over the background noise of the city, but trying to sound calm and reasonable all the same. He hoped absently that he was using common enough language that the younger guy could relate.

If he hadn't made that lame appology, I'd think this kid was deaf. For all I know though, he's lost it and managed to escape before the hospital could evaluate him. I could very well be wasting my time here, and risking early exposure of my powers, not to mention my health. But I have to try...

As he began crossing the street towards him, doing his best to keep an eye out for him among the crowd, he spotted the guy as heducked around the corner of the alley.
Pausing as he crossed the street, standing in the median, he considered his options.

What's that saying about chasing a mad dog into a corner? But, if it's not a dead-end, he might end up getting away. If I didn't see the hospital staff basically ignore him, I would have to guess he's really dangerous...but since they didn't bother to take up the chase or shout a warning, I guess I'm willing to take my chances.

Dashing across the street and coming up to the corner of the alleyway, he pressed his back against the bricks and listened around the corner for the tell tale sound of running feet.

((Listen:))

Spoiler

Show

Listen check [roll]1d20+5[/roll]

((Successful roll:If can hear his heavy breathing around the corner, minus the pitter patter of running feet))

He's trying to ambush me?!? What the hell was this kid's deal?

Staying where he was, and edging up to the corner as close as he dared while keeping his hands up at the ready he ignored the pedestrians that gave him wierd looks as they walked by.
"Hey man, I know you're back there. I'm offering you an opportunity. An opportunity to be normal. Not normal like everyone else, but normal enough that you won't have to worry about not getting treated with the equality you deserve.
I'm talking about freedom. It's not going to happen overnight though, and I could really use your help, but if you head the other direction, I gaurantee this city will swallow you whole.
You'll be beyond my ability to help, but I don't want that and I don't think you do either. So think for a second, chill out, and listen to reason will ya?"

I feel like the RPD talking down a Meth-head. For all I know, this guy is some kind of walking meth lab. Might actually explain what happened to that nurse back there...all I do know is, this is his last chance.

He paused a moment to let the guy consider what he said, and reply if he was willing.

As he stood there waiting, his back against the brick storefront, A cold fury entered him. More cold and deep than he remembered it being in a long time.

The sheer audacity. He's running like the law is after him, and all I'm trying to do is help him! He must be a criminal, or it's only a matter of time before he becomes one...I guess it falls to me to deal with him one way or another.
That nurse was powerful, but he must have caught her off guard, and she didn't strike me as a real fighter. I will be ready for him.

((Power activation))
A familiar but disturbing twisting feeling began under his skin, stretching out from his chest, throughout his entire body. It was cold and inhuman...but somehow comforting as well. He wondered briefly as he pushed himself off of the now warm feeling brick, if he looked any different, but having no way of finding out and full of cold righteous anger, he cared very little.
He paused only long enough to remove his gloves and stuff them into his pocket, barely noticing the writhing veins beneath the skin on the back of his hands.

How ironic that this boy that I am trying to help may be the first subject upon which I test the full extent of my capabilities he thought to himself darkly.

As he strode around the corner, his hands balled into fists, he growled menacingly "This is your last chance. Give up now, or you will regret it". [/SPOILER]

((What Jason would see))

Spoiler

Show

A fairly tall lightly tanned Native American guy in his early 20's wearing a matching set of cargo pants and bomber jacket, both a faded dark grey. He's also wearing a dark navy scarf as well as stylish narrow black wire framed glasses.
The top buttons of his jacket are open revealing a black tank top underneath and rather well developed pecks. You notice that he wears at his neck a black leather choker with a small bag of the same color and material attached to it.

In addition to the above, there are a few other things of note.
His eyes are reflectionless black orbs, and it appears as though all the veins under any and all exposed skin are writing as though alive and standing out in sharp relief. All of these veins also appear as blue black, despite the fact that he does appear to be breathing (I'm assuming your character has a massive spot check)

((Action Summary:))

Spoiler

Show

3ed. round, ran across street, stopped at corner of alley, listened.

Diplomacy check (full round; for what it's worth) (1d20+3)[17]. Pause 1 round. Remove gloves (move), 5' move diagnally infront of the alley while activating power (swift) avoiding AOO, talk/make threat (free)

((To speed up and potential conflict between us that might occur))

Spoiler

Show

Initiative: (1d20+7)[13] He will do what he can to make sure if violence breaks out, it happens in the alley, out of sight of the general public

((Edit: Screwed up the listen check (the most important one of course), Geez3r, you can make it for me, otherwise, I'll retry it in a separate post))

[Tar Palantir]

The Reaper

The Reaper answers Nosferatu's question, saying, "Several feet, but no farther. Bring an umbrella and I'll be fine. See you then." As Nosferatu flies away, the Reaper melts into the shadows, and vanishes.

He arrives a short while later at his apartment. Seeing that it is already evening, he decides to rest for a while, until his meeting with Dark. His mind races the entire time as he tries to process everything that has happened in the past few days. Eventually giving up on that, he decides to focus on the fact that he is free, and good, and sane, and all of those wonderful words for people that aren't what he used to be. The voices in his head, that once whispered so persuasively, leading him to madness and despair, have lost their teeth; they are all but gone entirely now. The face of the girl stands clearly in his mind, eager for company; more faces of the living to stand against the faces of those dead by his hand. The world would be a better place because of him.

Surprisingly quickly, the appointed hour drew near. The Reaper arose from his rest and set out, staying in the shadows, invisible to all of the normal people living their normal lives. How he envied them the chance to be normal, to be sane, to not live every waking moment in penance for crimes too terrible to even comprehend. But the moment passed, and at last he came to the doorstep of Professor Dark. Emerging from the shadows on his doorstep, he knocked on the door.

[Gnomish Wanderer]

(Thrall_Of_Ao Sees:)

Spoiler

Show

(No he's not hiding and yes he is somewhat stereotypical)
A young man stands in the middle of the alley about 6 feet in. His hands are raised defensively, and he spreads his feet a little apart with obvious training. His dark brown hair barely touches his ears and the tip of his forehead. He's wearing a dark green shirt and blue jeans, and a short-sleeved unbuttoned dress shirt hangs loosely around him, almost flaring out like a cape.

(Thought I'd post that as reference so I'll know which scenario happened.)

[ChronicLunacy]

Kid Zeus

The television sets, heaters, electric clocks, stereos, and such in the specific section of downtown upon with Kid Zeus was descending went briefly on the fritz as the teenaged super hero used the above-ground power lines to propel himself down the street. As he descended to the street the electric field that was suspending him in midair dissipated, buzzing down from him and grounding in the concrete under his feet. He sighed, scratching at the mask that covered his face. It was becoming uncomfortable after sweating in it all day long and he was looking forward to taking it off. The comics never mentioned how uncomfortable the blasted things were.

He leaned against the wall, ignoring the looks he was getting by any of the people passing him on the street and checked his pockets. Maybe he had enough for a soda?

[Thrall_Of_Ao]

((Repost of Listen Check. For The Win. Drum roll please.))

Spoiler

Show

Listen: (1d20+5)[24]

((Edit: MAN, I'm good. So, senario #2 it is then. Balls back in your court, what're you going to do?))

[evisiron]

Nosferatu

Nosferatu sailed through the air as he re-entered the city streets, mind still wondering about what had happened earlier. It was still kind of surreal... Why would violence against a plant invoke such a dramatic response. "Oh, yeah". The answer seemed to be staring him in the face. He was changing, and becoming more like a plant himself. He was feeling for... ... "his own kind". Once again, Nosferatu's mind had wandered into considering whether or not he was truly human any more.

Thankfully, his mind had something new to consider as a strange feeling twitched at the edge of his perception. Pausing in his flight, Nosferatu scannded the area around him, but could not see the source of any such disturbance. With a sparkle of inspiration, Nosferatu slowly closes his eyes, and opens the senses that belonged to no normal human. With his skin flushing a deep shade of green, he could "taste" the air around him. There was an oddity that seemed somehow familiar, but it was much too faint to place. After a few seconds were spent locating the "scent" Nosferatu opened his eyes. They fell to rest on the power cables. is brow furrowed in confusion, and he flew closer to examine the lines. They seemed to almost be twiching, tiny sparks of electricty hoping alone the line.

"That can't be good"

Nosferatu drew his sword, and followed the cables along. His mind was fixated on an image he remembered from an old movie he saw as a kid. Small reptillian humanoids had invaded New York, and for some reason one had become a being of pure electricity and travelled through the phonelines. This could very well be another superpowered criminal testing his powers.

As these thoughts ran through his mind, Nosferatu turned a corner to see a figure leap from the cables and glide to the group, electricity flowing around him like hundreds of tiny serpents. With a grin, Nosferatu returned his katana to his scabbard. It was one of the mutates from the meeting earlier that day, Kid Zeus. Dropping to the ground and walking up to him, Nosferatu called out to the familiar figure.

"Hey, Kid Zeus! It was good to see you got the girl to the ground okay. What are you up to now?"

[ChronicLunacy]

Kid Zeus

The Kid turned his head sharply at the new arrival, gaping for a moment before finding his voice. It was still a little new for him to see people flying down from midair at him, especially ones that looked like vampires, even though he was doing much of the same. "Uh...h-hey, Nosferatu! How's it going, man? I met another of our kind earlier, some guy who could make the soundwaves from his guitar crush and then reconstruct the hood of a car. I had to talk him out of attacking a cop, then talk the cop out of crushing the guy's skull in with his baton. Everything worked out alright though, and he said he was going to come to the meeting. He's calling himself "Riff". You should have heard his music, dude. The guy could make his guitar do things I've never heard Slash or Hammet play. What about you? Put that homicidal maniac behind bars, yet?"

Obviously, he was referring to the Reaper, who he had more than a single problem with being included in their little team of super friends.