[Heromux] The Great Lint Storm

Summary: Croyd should not have taken Xanax to not freak out at the end of his cycle...

Location: Metropolis

Date: 2014.09.12

Emitter: N/A

Players: Hyde, Jack Hawksmoor, Croyd Crenson

NPCs:

Groups:

Tone: Social, Comedic

Rating: Public

It's the financial district. There's probably a fair amount of crime going on here...behind closed doors, in those shining offices. Nothing Jack Hawksmoor is really equipped to do anything about. Right now, he's crouched on the top of the Empire State Building, relaxed despite being in a position that might cause him to fall any moment. At least until something impinges on his senses in the streets below and he starts to...run down the side of the building. Nope, not going to fall, not this guy.
A lint ghost floats through the air while an astral Croyd looks down below at the awesomeness of the city. He manifests himself next to Jack, "Hey there! You probably don't recognize me. I'm Croyd. Nice to see ya again. How's the city?"
Hyde isn't equipped to deal with the sort of crime that goes on here, for the most part, the kind that involves men in suits with computers and large bank accounts. The main reason he visits is for the people, of which there's a surplus during the day. What most people would see as an indisinct blob, hawk eyes happens to look up to witness the law of gravity being violated, watching long enough until a familiar lint blob appears. He waves few dozen stories below with little chance of being seen. It only causes other pedestrians to look up.
Jack Hawksmoor hasn't spotted the guy waving to Croyd. He waves to Croyd, but doesn't stop until he's about a storey up, at which point he launches off the wall, does a neat twist in the air and lands lightly on the quiet sidewalk, off the main street. "Hey there," he greets the ball of lint. Not questioning that it's Croyd.
Croyd swings down far below and doesn't splatter cause he's a ghost. Ooooooooooooooooooo...scary! Then he sees Hyde waving and waves back. "Jack, meet Hyde. Hyde, meet jack. Both alright guys."
Hyde moves to hug Croyd, entirely forgetting that he's the spirit of Christmas dread. The two come right up to him, which is great, because he doesn't have to wade through the litters of people pushing past on the sidewalk, generally in the wrong direction. He hugs non-corporeal fluff, looking sheepish at the result. Upon composing himself, he offers a handshake, one of the first tricks he ever learned, to Jack.
Jack, who smells...odd. Off. Metallic, almost, but also it's as if he blends into the city, reflecting all of its various scents. No human would notice this, but the ex-dog is likely to almost straight away. The handshake is returned, a slight roughness evident on the man's palms. "I'll settle for being an alright guy," he says with a bit of a grin.
Croyd says, "so check this out. I helped take out intergang here. Me, right? I mean I've done ok things but those guys are messed up. A church, that church of crime right? Totally real. I kid you not.""
Hyde shakes, releases and sniffs the air, finding Jack immediately odd. Running down the side of the building is also taken into account. He restrains himself from getting a more detailed sample. People have boundaries, he found out early on. He lives here, so he ought to have heard of Intergang, but it's the sort of disconnected way he'd feel about any gang. They're always someone else's problem and more of a boogyman. "What happened?"
"Those guys are causing trouble again?" Jack leans against the wall, casually. "I've been busy putting something together to go after a certain missing statue."
Croyd says, "they wanted to use me for some freaky experiment and me and some pals went in on em and busted the joint up but good. I linted the hell out of em. Statue? Like the Maltese Falcon style statue? That's just neato. Hidden plans or something?"
Hyde tries to imagine doom by lint. Lint in the eyes and the mouth, the muffled screams and confusion. He's staring into space for a moment before snapping back to Croyd.
Jack Hawksmoor points to the harbor. "No. That statue. Unfortunately, the thief seems to have gone to Antarctica, so I had to find somebody for whom that's an easy trip." He turns back towards Croyd. "Doom by lint, eh?"
You say, "I can astral project but I'm afraid that I cant go that far. Antarctica? Why'd they move the statue to there? I loved lady liberty. You OK Hyde?"
Hyde pipes up, although he has no idea where Antarctica is. "Yeah, it's cool. How far is it?" He brushes some lint off his vest, then some more, shaking his hand off.
"No. Some bitch stole her." It's clear Jack's pissed about this entire thing, or he wouldn't be insulting female dogs. But he's trying his best not to take it out on the innocent. And then when he sees Hyde do that, he checks *himself* for lint.
Croyd looks and realizes that he thought he felt rather non crazy from taking all the speed...a thin cloud of lint hazes in the air growing larger, "Well...that's not good." He looks at Jack, "Yeah that would upset me to. It does.
Hyde doesn't know it yet, but a sleep-deprived Croyd is probably the most fun of all possible Croyds. "I can take you there," he offers, never having taken a geography class or having looked at a globe. That's probably safe.
Jack Hawksmoor shakes his head. "Some really competent people are hunting her down. We'll find her and put it back." And if it's destroyed, he has a backup plan...but...
Croyd laughs at Jack's assesment. He doesn't feel compotent himself. He's self depreciative and puts his hand behind his head, "Well that's good. I think she's an inspiration we need. And teleportation is fun dude, thanks for offering anyway."
Hyde looks disappointed in the way a dog would after he's been told he's going to go outside, but just so invited guests can see how he crazy reacts to the words, can see him go to the door expectantly.
Jack Hawksmoor has never owned a dog, so doesn't recognize it. "You can teleport?" he inquires of Hyde. It's a handy ability.
Hyde lifts his head, blue eyes lighting up. Strange blue eyes, like other animals have been humanized, mixed like paint, the outside of each iris a darker blue ring. They don't really light up, it's just an expression. "Mmmm, yup. But not here. I keep getting bumped."
Croyd says, "I can teleport sometimes. Its a fun ability. Unless you can only teleport by leaving people's mouths. That's digusting. I never wnat that power again. You keep getting bumped to where Hyde?""
Hyde, just then, is bumped in the shoulder by a pedestrian intent on getting past the three obstructing the sidewalk, a glare given to them for daring to be in public. The good citizen stares at the floating lint ghost for too long, tripping into someone else whose automatic reaction is to yell about it. He gives Croyd ghost a 'See?' shrug, though that explains the situation almost not at all. "It's not a good spot." Hyde's eyebrows raise. "You can?"
"Every time he sleeps, he wakes up with different powers. I can teleport, in a sense." He shrugs. "And yeah, I get it, hard to concentrate when people keep walking into you."
Croyd considers, "Well have you tried the sewer or the subway? There's all kinds of quiet places in the city if you look for em. Jack here is the guy to go to if you need something in a city. Like food. Very good at finding food." He grins. The cloud of lint slowly increases.
Hyde backs up to the side of the pavement furthest from traffic. "Easy to find a place," Hyde says, his focus threatened by the mention of easy food. Someone his size just might be interested in a lot of calories. He looks to Jack expectantly.
Jack Hawksmoor laughs. "Irony of ironies, asking the guy who doesn't eat where to find food. What sort of food do you want, though>?"
Croyd says, "I'm always partial to pizza myself. Best pizza I ever had was near this pharmacy with a pet shop near a sewer entrance. Youd' think the sewer would make it awful but the turtles were so cute and the pizza so good I didn't care. But I was ...out of it...towards the end of my cycle." It is raining link like snow in a one block radius. Croyd yawns. "It was pretty good stuff.""
Hyde holds out one hand, his attention drifting upward as lint collects in his palm. He sticks out of his tongue, catching a lintflake on the tip and quickly spits, having to pull it off his tongue. That only gets more on his mouth. He has to turn his head and sneeze into his arm, spitting slobbery lint at the sidewalk.
"Croyd, you're linting the neighborhood," Jack points out, evenly. It's probably his lint, too, a fair bit of it, given how he tends to dress.
The amount of Lint starts to grow. It is at least four blocks in radius now and his eye twitches. "You know...I do have to admit Jack, I've been awake for three weeks now and am normally tripping balls but I tried Oding on Xanax...didn't wanna have Nate thinking I was crazy...but...this...might be a bad thing."
"Hyde, you got a power that can deal with the lint? It's starting to make New York...itch." Yup. Starting to annoy the city, but he doesn't really have a good way to make it go away.
Hyde coughs. Most of it's gone, but there's a piece in the back of his throat. Now he has a better idea of Intergang's strife. His hand is brushed onto his jeans, the guy shaking his head. The city is doomed as he regains some composure, lint collecting in his hair. His eyes are watery as he finally swallows the piece vexing him, shaking his head, "Nope." All he wants is that pizza.
Croyd thinks a moment, "Knock me out. I'm supposed to be crazy right now. I'm not even afraid to go to sleep. That's the only way to stop it." The link is now covering most of manhatten, drifting down like so much early snow.
Hyde already tried hugging Croyd when he got here, and he's a nice guy! How could he knock out one of his best friends who he's only met twice? He waves one arm through the ghost, like that'll work.
Hyde disperses some Croyd, arms flailing, but that's not very effective.
Jack Hawksmoor narrows his eyes, and his right eye flares red, a la terminator...but Croyd vanishes a moment later. "Phewf. I guess he fell asleep." That doesn't, though, get rid of the lint that was already summoned. "What a...mess."
Hyde watches as the last of the lint falls from the sky, leaving the weather stations with some explaining to do, a couple of inches of it piled on the streets, sidewalks and fleeing people. He believes he'll be glad when Croyd loses this power, but there'll be stranger ones to come. "I better get back. I have a shift tonight."
"I'll call the...snow clearance people. They should be able to sweep it up." He tugs out a cellphone. "Good thing New York has actual snow ploughs, not the hybrids they use further south." And then he's talking into the phone. Covered in lint.
Hyde closes his eyes, picturing someplace else, someplace familiar. It isn't long before he flickers and is gone. Business as usual for the good people of the city!

[Heromux] Vengeance Delayed

Summary: Many in the Green and Red are upset at the Gold, particularly Kilroy for the lack of apocalypse.

Location: Central Spark (The Spirit World in Central Park)

Date: 2014.09.16

Emitter: Kilroy

Players: Emira, Kilroy Capital Conneticut

NPCs: Whisperblood, Sparkles the Chipmunk Spirit, The Red, The Green

Groups: Magic and Mysticism, Team: Genesis

Tone: Gritty

Rating: Public

The tiny chipmunk spirit is only too aware of the food that was provided in winter, paid for by an anonymous donor that wasn't so anonymous. It skitters through the woods until it finds Emma and begins chittering furiously. Its hard to understand since its a spirit.
Emira was not the sort to regularly speak directly to nature. She spoke to her own potted plants every now and then, and maybe had one-sided conversations with small animals in the park... and so, it was certainly a surprise to hear the chittering of a chipmunk nearby. "Mmn...?" The blind woman turned her attention from something in the distance to focus it in the direction of the chipmunk sounds. "...Well hello there." She gives a small smile, something that might not have been so reassuring to a small woodland creature. "Looking for something to eat?" She asked curiously, clearly unable to understand the fast-paced chittering.
The spirit chitters, trying to make her understand. It tries again and moves back and forth. It comes near and then far. It then goes up on her shoulder and chitters in her ear, desperately alarmed as it whispers in her ear, nuzzling a bit but then moving down and chittering. It might be pulling a Lassie asking her to follow it.
The fact that the creature was so urgent caused the smile to fade from Emira's lips. She tilted her head slightly, then stood to her feet. "...Alright then, lead the way I suppose..." She suggests, perhaps slightly confused by the actions of the small animal, and maybe feeling a little silly for thinking to follow it at all.
Through the woods they move, the trees gladly moving out of their way. They step sideways for a moment and she can feel it. Nature is more powerful here, the animals and plants easier to understand here. "He's in terrible danger! He's in such danger! They're so so angry!"
It rushes up ahead and they can hear roaring and tremendous crashing up ahead. Something crashes into wood and there is a second roar of pain.
This was... different. Emira had not been in a place where she could FEEL the power of nature before, let alone understand plants or animals. Her brow furrowed slightly with the sensation, coupled with the sudden understanding of the animal leading her forward. "...Who's in danger? What do you -- "
And then there's the sound of roaring... pain... and Emira is looking in multiple directions, searching for another sign of life that might be making such sounds in the area...
"Its over the hill! They're so angry, so terribly angry. It didn't happen you see, the surge, they're trying to kill him but it's not not his fault. You must stop them! They'll listen to you! They like you!"
There is shouting in the distance, a human speaking about not his fault and a giant bellow, a tree like voice shouting rage and something about unfair.
Emira frowns slightly and nods. There was nothing else to say, something was going on, and apparently she was able to help... so that meant that she had to help... right? "I see. Lead the way then, I'll do what I can to help..."
Emira can't SEE the spirit world so the details might escape her but they don't escape Kilroy and he knows he's not home. It's Central Park but its not. The moon is high and crystal clear. He is still sparkling with the powerful magic from the statue he experienced with Lunair, unsure of what it has done to him but he resonates and smells good. But the more powerful smell here is earth, the primal smell of a forest untouched by man with animal spirits and plants and trees and grass watching with hundreds of eyes as a giant willow hundreds of feet tall is shouting at Kilroy who is dodging left and right, not well, with a giant stone with carvings on it smashing through the branches that get too close. From time to time, bullets appear and then disappear with a small flash of fire and the tree roars more.
"The surge was supposed to happen! The Green had to suffer! The Red Had to Suffer! And the Gold must as well!"
"The coin is gone! I can't sense it. Without the coin the surge never happens. I know its wrong, but every time I investigate..."
"What? What happens filthy traitor!" The branches surge down and try to crash into him again ripping the earth and wounding it.
"That's e-NOUGH!" Emira slams her cane into the ground, to minimal effect, given that the ground is well padded by soil and grass and not much in the way of stone to make a loud noise on. But her stern voice is... hopefully enough. She could sense life. Plant life mostly, which is odd given that plant life is not usually strong enough to show up to her lifesight, but there was also various degrees of animal life in the area.
"What exactly is going on here?" She adopts a distinctly displeased expression, her brow creased, and her lips set into a small, but firm frown.
It might seem that the cane has no effect, but Emira doesn't know that she is revered by both the Green, Red and Grey. Spirits of all kinds heed her and honor her, both because of her potent power, but also because quite frankly, she's responsible in how she uses it. The ground ripples and there is a crack of stone as the Rai stone falls to the ground as the earth itself listens to her here. The tree stops and Kilroy himself is silent though he has a shield of plastic coins ready if need be.
The tree looks shocked. "How...how did you get here?"
The chipmunk says,"HA! I told you to stop! I told you!"
Kilroy takes a breath and then looks at Emira, "Er...that's a long story. Have you heard of the Gold? or Green or Grey or Red?"
Emira's frown does not fade, but her brow creases more, "That is not an answer to my question." She turns her attention towards Kilroy, her expression easing up slightly. She didn't recognize the voice... but he was human. "...I have never heard of any of those things, no." She sighs a bit, "I think you'll find me a bit out of the loop on this one... I only came because this one here said that there was someone in trouble." She turns her attention back to the chipmunk, as if to acknowledge his presence, then turns her attention back to the crowd as a whole, instead of any one target in particular. "But before I get to trying to set things right... I have to know what's going on.
Kilroy says, "The world is full of magic. And where there are magics, there are spirits. There is a spirit of everything. Animals. Plants. Dawn. Time. Toes. Cars. Rocks. You name it, there is a spirit for it, but the first group of spirits to get together was called the Green, plant spirits that formed a parliament. The Red, animal spirits followed shortly after. Around 13000 years ago, fungus spirits invaded, and a pattern of magical apocalypse started every thousand years. One of the spirit groups always had to take the duty. This time it was the spirit of the Gold." He walks closer, keeping an eye on the tree that looks like it wants to smash him, "That's the spirits of commerce and trade. I'm a priest of the Economy, the anthropamorphization of the economy everywhere. I was to guide this apocalypse...minimize its effects, only it never happened. No idea why. There are a lot of people not happy about that fact. Like Enty over here."
"Whisperblood." The tree snarls."
Emira is silent as she listens to the explanation. It seemed straightforward enough... and didn't leave much room for questions. "Exactly why does this apocalypse have to happen?" She turns her attention to the tree spirit, blind eyes unfocused... though she was clearly watching this Whisperblood. "On the surface, it appears that there is no damage caused by the lack of this... apocalypse. Only good can come of it passing without effect from my point of view."
She is silent and thoughtful for a moment then continues, "Also... You say that this person... This priest, is a traitor. Why?" Her head tilts to the side, snow white hair falling over her shoulder as she adopts a curious expression.
There's silence at that. There are a few mutters of "cycle of magic" and "Great good can come" but everyone knows the bad is almost always worse than the good. Bubonic plague anyone?
Finally Whisperblood speaks. Honored or not, he still hates Kilroy, "Because we have suffered. Suffered in ways you cannot imagine honored one. But the Gold? They are responsible for so much suffering as it is. The highways and the fences. The cities and the burning, but now, now when it is their turn to suffer...NOTHING? This is not right. He has done something to cheat fate."
Emira considers this for a moment, "So you are upset because this time, these... Fungal spirits did not strike, and it was during a time when The Gold was set to be attacked." She states, as if trying to recap the events for herself. "If it is indeed the case that somehow the Gold has cheated fate... then it seems as though they have been wildly successful in doing just what they were supposed to do, in minimizing it's effect. Are you saying that it would have been preferable for them to allow their own destruction, rather than find a way to avert it entirely?"
She watches the tree spirit. "I do agree, that they have caused much suffering. But so have other spirits. The Green themselves have caused suffering as well, have they not, Whisperblood? Why... Just a year ago, I recall hearing on the news of four city blocks in New York City being suddenly overrun by plants, causing billions of dollars in property damage -- damage that no doubt was done to the Gold. So you can hardly call your own parliaments blameless."
The trees and animals kind of look at each other at that. And Kilroy smiles. He doesn't quite go, "AHA!" but the look on his face clearly says that. He's smart enough not to say a damned thing.
Whisperblood snarls even as the others start to disburse, "It isn't right!"
Emira gives the tree a stern expression, "You are acting like a spoiled child. Forgive me for using a human example, but you're acting as if you're angry because someone else got a better present on their birthday than you yourself did. If there was no damage done by the fungal spirits, you should be rejoicing. Damage done to the Gold could result in them damaging the Green, the Red, or any number of OTHER spiritual parliaments in an attempt to repair the damage done. This way, nobody suffers any undue damage. The only one here who seems strangely unhappy about this is YOU." She points an accusing finger. "What proof do you have, beyond speculation that the Gold has done anything wrong? How do you know that the magical apocalypse hasn't simply run it's course? Perhaps it wont happen again. Or perhaps it will hit in the near future, and simply hasn't arrived yet." She takes a deep breath.
"Either way, this does not do any damage to you yourself. It does no damage to anyone, and the lot of you should go on with your lives... existences... whatever it is you want to call it... Unless you can give me one good reason to the contrary?" She raises a brow.
The spirit in Whisperblood wants to yell at her and call her foolish but the tree at the core of its being can't, and lierally wont. After a solid minute of trying futilely, it grunts, turns around and walks away.
Kilroy smiles,"thankyou. I appreciate that. My name is Kilroy."
Emira breathes heavily through her nose before turning her attention back toward Kilroy, "...Emira." She gives a small smile, "And... it was nothing. I suspect that they would have attempted to kill you, had I not interfered... Nature is cruel, and not always fair... and prone to kill indiscriminately, unfortunately." She gives a small bow, "Now then... I suppose that's that!" She smiles brightly, "I don't suppose you'd be able to lead me back to somewhere that I might be able to find my way home from? I get the feeling that I'm not somewhere that I could just walk home from if I tried."
Kilroy says, "oh he was trying to kill me, make no mistake, and it would gave been a very tough fight. to sw you saved my life is not unreasonable. I can't lead you back but I imagine our mutual friend the chipmunk spirit can."
Emira gives a short nod, "Either will work, really~" She turns back to where she had left the chipmunk spirit. "I really should be getting back now though... So if you'll be so kind?" She asks the chipmunk. "Back to where you found me would be best... I can find my way back from there."
The chipmunk wrinkles its nose and the world feels right again.
Kilroy can tell Emira isnt really lavking for funds, so he asks,"If you could havr a great windfall benefit a cause of your choice, what would it be? The gold owes you a debt.
Emira blinks a little, then considers, "Mmn..." She takes a moment, "I mentioned those city blocks that were destroyed by catastrophic plant growth in New York... Many of those people are still without a home after their old homes were destroyed. Something going towards those people would be wonderful... Especially since I feel I was partially responsible for the destruction."
Kilroy nods,"Consider it done." He dmiles and has the perfect two bird solution in mind. "Have a fantastic night Emira."

[Heromux] Church of Crime

Summary: Croyd has been chased by Intergang for a while and found refuge with Stormwatch. Now it is time to strike back and kick Intergang out of New York

Location: New York, Greenwich Village

Date: September 12, 2014

Emitter: Nate Grey

Players: Rachel Summers, Croyd Crenson, Roberto da Costa, Lunair Weir, Nate Grey

NPCs: Intergang goons, disguised parademons, crazy crime priest Johnny

Groups: Stormwatch

Tone: Heroic, Gritty

Rating: Public

It is true astral projecting is a good way to spy on people. And since Croyd has been lurking in an old safehouse, he had time to do some spying. Nate has been busy, but not so busy he couldn’t track down some Intergang pawns so Croyd had a place to start his investigations. After few weeks, it became obvious they have some kind of place here, in a rundown restaurant in a crappy alleyway by the Village. Nothing fashionable or artistic here, but somehow it is warded against astral projection. A cursory glance this morning revealed to Nate it is also telepathically blank. He didn’t want to push to hard in the case Intergang had some kind of alarms.
Instead, Nate called Roberto and Rachel as reinforcements. Introduced them to Croyd/Sleeper and explained the problem along the way. “So, looks like they think they can extract some kind of super-virus out of Croyd. This virus kills most people in minutes, but occasionally gives them super-powers. No the kind of stuff we want them having. I thought we had driven them out the city a year ago. Ah, this was when you were in Brazil,” he adds for Roberto.

Croyd says, "Well I was told its pretty inactive really, so that's why I'm not in quarantine, but those bastards probably could do something about it. It's definitely uncool. Makes me wanna you know...do something violent to them." Croyd has been awake a while and is a bit...on edge. Not crazy yet but...edgy."

Lunair isn't a spy of any sort, but she's gotten a weird business card. Meet up at ...? Hmm. Well, this could be interesting. She tries to take jobs doing good stuff, mostly. The cryptic contact makes her concerned. She'll have to get to the proper warehouse. "Why does everyone do business in warehouses?" It's the strangest thing. Maybe Amazon started a trend? "Or is it that business shop next to..." Lunair is going to a restaurant, not a warehouse.

"I turn my back for a couple of lousy years..." Roberto mutters, securing his armored gauntlets onto his forearms and flexing his hands to make sure the hinged knuckle guards are moving easily. "Do they have stores of the virus? Will we need masks, or anything?" he asks. "Or should I just wash my hands afterward?"

Being called in as muscle by Nate is a novel experience for Rachel, and one that instantly piqued her curiosity. Between that and the knowledge that her 'little brother' isn't exactly operating at his best right now, the redhead didn't need much persuading to tag along. She's presently lurking at the back of the group in jeans, boots and a red tee shirt featuring a certain golden firebird, hands stuffed in the back pockets of her jeans, while she's brought up to speed on what they're dealing with. Considering she managed to miss all this the first time around, and doesn't even have the excuse of having been in Brazil while it was going on. "Doing something violent to the bad guys sounds like the winning option." Rachel comments, then waits for the answer to Roberto's pertinent questions.

“Look, Croyd, it still puts you to sleep every couple months and gives you new powers. I am not good with science, but it doesn’t seems inactive to me,” but then again, he is not good with science. Nate has to wonder if Intergang is good at science, because they are usually the dumbest thugs in town. But sometimes they are armed with alien weapons, so, “eh, they don’t have the virus. Croyd has the virus. Only he is not contagious. Now, these guys don’t look like much, but sometimes they pack alien weapons. So expect anything up to laser guns.” And speaking of weapons, Nate spots Lunair going in and blinks. “Or rocket launchers,” he adds. “It could be dangerous. Probably it will be a walk compared with the usual stuff.” And Nate hurries on, disregarding the semi-plan they made, to intercept Lunair before she gets to the door. “Hey!” He yells, trying to grab her shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

Croyd says, "The thing is, this was originally created by a chemical created by the Joker...he killed hundreds of people, but it turns out it created this virus in me or...maybe it was always there, I dunno. But, I am PRETTY sure there are no problems and I'm not contagious and they don't have it. I dunno what they can do but they seemed pretty nasty to me. If Nate here says they're a problem, they're a problem. I can do lint by the way. Fear my lint. Oh and I'm kinda strong. And I can ghosty." He eats a sandwich. Not ravenously. But it is a socially acceptable way to hide certain things that others might find awkward.

Speaking OF rocket launchers, Lunair was off in her own world. head in the clouds. Who's her contact? Where's her contact? She's kind of hungry. Should she bring back something for her boyfriend...? La la la-- EEP! Suddenly, her shoulder is grabbed. Lunair jerks, pulling forward, startled. She flails a little, but at least - judging by the way her hand curls, she resisted the urge to turn and start shooting at whatever it is that startled her. Lunair's definitely made steps towards improving herself, it seems. "Uhm. I was given a business card and asked to?" She peers at Nate. "How about you?"

"'Do lint'?" Roberto echoes, baffled, his head rearing back as he turns to look at Croyd. "What does 'do lint' mean?"
But then Nate is running off, and 'Berto is damned if he's going to let the man rush in alone, with the way he's been looking lately. So he runs after Scion, the metal in his boots tapping loudly against the pavement. "Who's this?" he asks, grateful that it isn't some alternate future enemy they would have to start blasting at immediately. He turns back to Rachel, even more perplexed. "Do you know what's going on?"

The explanation Nate provided on the way aside, Rachel still feels like she's come in halfway through the movie as Nate and Croyd discuss the effects of the virus on him. She's sold on the idea that whatever this virus is, it's bad news and that they should do something about it, but there still seems to be a big gap between what they know and what seems to be wishful thinking. They're only PRETTY sure that Croyd's not contagious? And they're only PRETTY sure that they're not going to come into contact with the virus, here?
This is starting to sound more and more like one of Rachel's own plans, and they don't usually end well.
Still, she's come too far to back out now. "I can handle laser guns." Rachel says, and actually sounds confident rather than flippant as she says it, before glancing over at Croyd as he explains what he can do. She's right there with Roberto when it comes to bafflement about the lint comment! But before she can say anything, she's distracted by Nate's move to intercept the newcomer. "We did have a plan, right?" She asks under her breath. << Nate! TRY to remember you're not as bulletproof as you used to be! >> Rachel puts into his mind, a bit sternly, but she's worried about him!
She takes off running after the others a moment later, and catches up just in time to shake her head in answer to Roberto. "Not a clue." She confesses, before glancing around. "But I have a feeling we're making a WONDERFUL target."

"Are you Intergang? Because I am about to..." Nate was about to explain Lunair about their intentions to blow up the Intergang hideout, but looks like there was a thug by the door and now he is pointing a large handgun to Nate’s head.%r%rAt least it is not a laser gun. But... he is not bulletproof either.

Croyd looks at Berto and creates a thin film of lint on the face of the thug pointing a gun at Nate's head. He also stuffs some lint right down in the barrell there. "Well, that's kind of it really. I mean, its not ice or magma or anything but you can still do some things with it?" He shrugs and takes another bite of sandwich. His eye twitches a bit.

Blink. Lunair stares sidelong at Nate. "No, I'm a girl." She doesn't get it. And then suddenly there's a thug holding a large handgun to Nate's head. Thinking quickly, Lunair shoves Nate HARD backwards if he doesn't move away. "Lint...?" Lunair looks confused. This evening just got kind of surreal. And suddenly she really wants a lint roller.

"We are making ourselves targets. I'll stand in front," Roberto says. He's only half joking: he does, in fact, move to put himself between the group and the building. "I'm wearing this tin can for a reason. And lasers? Tasty."
Then there's a guard, and he's carrying a totally normal gun. "Typical of my luck," the Brazilian mutters. More loudly, he addresses the man: "Bom dia, senhor! Eu nao falo Ing--wait, what the...?" Because now the guard... done been linted, as his friend Sam might say. Not wasting a second, he raises the shadow and flame of his Sunspot form, runs toward the man, and tries to grab the gun by its barrel. Not because he's stupid and has no plan -- well, not ONLY for those reasons -- but because his grip ought to be enough to crush the barrel and render the weapon useless, lint or not.

At least Roberto agrees with her! Rachel just has time to think this, and then... one moment Nate's accosting a girl, and the next moment he's got a gun pointed at his head. And it's not even the girl doing it! And while all this is happening, Croyd is eating a sandwich and... applying lint?
Rachel has a very unusual life.
Guns, however, do not scare her. Even when they're pointed at Nate. Her first instinct is to telepathically freeze the man in his tracks, but whatever's shielding the restaurant is getting in the way of the more subtle of her mental powers. So she doesn't take the risk, and goes unsubtle instead. Even as Sunspot's leaping forward to heroically intercede, Rachel strikes out with her telekinesis, attempting to rip the gun from his hand. With any luck, by the time he's facing Roberto he'll be weaponless.
"Nate..." Rachel says warningly. "This is not one of your better plans! If we're going in, we need to do it now!" And even as she says it, Rachel too is moving forward. A telekinetic shield springs into life around her as she heads for the door.

Nate is not bulletproof, but he is not scared of a thug with a gun either. He knows kung-fu, y’know.
But then Lunair pushes him down. Nice of her. Embarrassing for him.
The thug doesn't have much of a chance. He is a large guy and all that, but first he gets lint on his eyes, then a superstrong mutant tackles him, and his gun gets stolen. He crashes through the door inside the restaurant, blind, unarmed and with a couple broken ribs. When his head slams against the floor, he is also unconscious.
There only a couple men inside the restaurant, although they are wearing suits and don't look like thugs. When they see Sunspot at the door, they run to the back of the place.
Nate snatches the gun from the air, if Rachel lets him. "The plan was to bust this place, so lets do it." Did they expect a complex plan out of him? Wrong Summers!

Croyd really can't you know...power lint it down, and since the guys running away (really? Or to the armory in the back?) leave the place open, Croyd grabs the register and lifts it up and throws it into a table. Then he smashes another table. Then he looks up and thinks, "Wait....did you mean the people or the place?"

Lunair didn't want the guy to get shot. Pride can wait until revenge! That's how it works, yes? Suddenly, the place becomes a hive of activity or at least a pre-fight swarm. Lunair dislikes guns pointed at her, but she's used to them. She has no illusions. Given her powers and line of work, she will likely die with a bullet in her brain. That's how it goes in the business. "Ehm. You're busting-" Then a blink as Croyd throws a register into a table. And there's Rachel and her TK!
Lunair is going to step aside, not wanting to be in or nearer the doorway while people run through. Nevertheless, an alarmingly large hunting rifle appears in her hands. "Well, if you're sure."

"Hi, guys," Sunspot tells the diners with a casual wave, lifting himself off of the unconscious thug. It's always a bit incongruous to hear his mild, accented voice from the creature of shadow and fire that he becomes when his powers are in high gear. "You should leave now, before things get scary." When he's not beating someone's face in with a park bench, the Brazilian is definitely the soft, fluffy side of Stormwatch.
He spares Croyd a glance and a lifted eyebrow, then says to Nate, "I'm assuming they're upstairs, certo?" He dusts off his armor and starts looking for a stairwell.

There's a brief tug-of-war as Nate snags the gun from mid-air, but then Rachel lets him have it. He needs /something/ to defend himself with, after all! "I usually like simple plans." Rachel says under her breath as she joins the others in bursting into the restaurant. "Nate? You want those guys stopped?" She asks him, her tone tense, prepared to throw up a TK-wall in their path if required - but Roberto seems to make the decision to let them go - and then Croyd's wrecking the place. She answers Roberto's question to Nate. "I'm still getting nothing telepathically. If anyone's here, they could be anywhere." And that puts her on edge. Because apart from that one guy with the gun, and the suspicious telepathic blanking, they're... smashing up a restaurant.

“One went downstairs, actually,” replies Nate, tracking down the ‘suits’ with some difficulty. They have a really good anti-telepathic thing here, it is not ‘noisy’ or anything, it is just like a blank area, foggy and hard to see.
There is a staircase there, in the room behind the restaurant. “Mindlink us, Ray... I am going down, you go upstairs. Yeah... get them alive, we need to know. Damn cultists are always so brainwashed they barely remember their names. But those guys looked different.”

Croyd says, "Right." He stops mid smash on the third table. "So...downstairs to the Temple of ..." he stops as if someone stole the joke even though no one said it, "Bad Guys. So. Right let me try something." He squints and looks constipated for a moment and then says, "No astral projecting. So let's go down so I can lint em.""

Lunair has no clue about astral projection (sticking your metaphysical backside out?), but she will head upstairs, to help Rachel and deal with whatever they find. "Huh." Simple plans to do better, at any rate.

"Underground?" Roberto asks. He makes a face, but it's practically impossible to tell through the shadow that covers him. "Let's hope they don't think to turn the lights off, or I'll have to really watch my batteries."
It's the work of a moment to kick the door down -- because there are some things you really must do, if you're going to invade a basement temple occupied by a weird blend of crooks and cultists -- and stomp down the staircase. He holds his fists up, ready to heat-blast or sun-punch anyone who tries to block his progress.

Rachel shoots Nate a look, and reaches out to him with her telepathy << You're not making it easy for me to watch your back, Nate. >> She sounds irritated, which is doing a good job of hiding her concern. She gives that a moment to sink in, then widens her telepathic net to anyone who's not actively trying to keep her out. << If you need us, I'll be listening. >> She drops the words into the others' minds, then glances at the woman Nate accosted. "I'd say it wasn't always like this but I'd be lying." She tells her, making for the stairs. "Try to keep me between you and any bad guys we find." It's not the most inspiring plan, but at least it's simple.

There really is a temple down there. It is not large, but it is surprisingly large considering it is excavated into Manhattan bedrock. It smells faintly to sewers, despite the excessive number of black and red candles they use for illumination. It pretty much looks like an inverted catholic church, with crosses upside down, stained glass windows (with more candles behind) with scenes of biblical crimes and cataclysms, and statues of monsters and mythological criminals instead of saints and virgins.
The man with the suit is here, as is a scarred man in a priest rube. “Call Mr. DeSaad, Johnny, we need help!” Yells the suit. “Shut up and go!” Replies the ‘priest’, “we have all we need here... that is the Sleeper! Get him!” He points at the large mutate.
There is a trio of rubbed thugs with the ‘priest’, and they advance towards Croyd, Roberto and Nate, they chant as they rush, and they start changing, becoming inhumanly large and muscular, their robes tearing Hulk-like.

Croyd lints the face of the priest. That'll teach em! You know...the doc said that his power always manifested based on the thing that he pereicved last danger or something...what was his subconcious gonna say to this. "TAKE THAT BASTARDS!" Its lint. It's pure. And dangerous. Maybe he should go the other way or something. As he looks about he is astonished. "Holy grunderstein, you guys are fruitloops. Seriously? The church of crime thing is real? Why not the church of payola?"

"Man, my priest is going to be so proud of me," Roberto comments as he looks around the blasphemous, candlelit chapel. Dimly candle-lit: he'll have to shepherd his strength. "Trashing this place has to be worth so many Jesus points."
He drops into an athletic crouch as the thug-monsters run at them, his shadowed grin hazily outlined by the fire of his breath. Despite their considerable size advantage, he bullrushes right back at them, hitting the nearest with an uppercut that would normally send it flying into the air. Underground? Not so much air, and definitely not so much flying.

Despite their appearance and size, the transformed thugs are not as strong as Sunspot, the first one goes flying from the punch, landing a few yards away and struggling to stand, somewhat stunned, but not yet out of the fight.
Nate fires the gun at the second one, doing some damage, but not stopping him. He is forced to dive out of the way, although he is back to his feet in a second. The thug growls and gives chase.
The ‘priest’ fumbles a bit, face full of lint (they don’t clean the place much) but then Croyd has a guy twice his size barreling on him, and the priest is out of his sight.

And if on queue, the candelabra beings to play, "It's not easy being green" as Croyd gets slammed. Oh, Croyd is a lot better off than "some guy" who got hit but he didn't counter charge, and he's easily grappled (if that's the intention). But if the guy does grapple him, he reaches forward with his teeth and bites the guy's nose as hard as he can.

There may not be any park benches in sight, but any sanctuary, fiendish or not, has something even better in abundance. Roberto squats in the aisle, grabs hold of a pew, and lifts it clean off the floor. "Hit the deck!" he yells just a second before swinging the huge wooden bench at a viciously destructive speed. It's wide enough to cover a huge amount of floor space, and he's aiming to connect with either or both of the thug-monsters who are still on their feet.

There are sturdy pews at hand, so Roberto can hit the thug-monsters, pretty much breaking the bench on their backs. Croyd bites the nose of one of them, and man, that tastes awful. There is something horribly wrong with that guy, besides being all monster-like. It feels as if he was made of ash and worm-filled meat.

Definitely hurt, but not out of the fight, the three thugs turn on Sunspot, tossing aside Croyd and ignoring Nate. But before they can reach him, they fall down clenching their heads. “They are not what they look,” grunts Nate, his left eye glowing brightly, “their minds are nothing like human. I won’t hold them for long.”

Croyd doesn't need to be told twice. He may not be strong as berto, but he takes the pew (heh...get it...pew?) and slams the guys again and again. He can lift a pew. He looks at Berto and grins, "Wanna take turns?" (Granted, its a smaller pew....but its still a pew, through and through.)

Roberto tosses aside the splintered remains of his end of the pew, then grabs another in the middle and deadlifts it over his head. Eyes burning brightly with solar fire, he growls, "Pew pew, filhos da puta," leaps as high as he can in the close confines, and spikes the thing directly onto them like a bench-shaped volleyball of pain.
He drops back to the ground in a three-point landing, allowing his fiery aura to fade. "Who's next?"

A few hits to the heads and the thugs are all knocked out. Which leaves the priest, hiding behind the altar. “You think you have won, but you can’t win!” He states, sounding scared and manic.
“Yeah, sure, fight,” Nate is not a believer. He grabs the priest by the scruff of his neck and pulls him out. “We have a lot of questions for you, starting with... crap.” The priest is foaming from the mouth, and convulsing. “Poison, this...” is another level of fanaticism for Intergang. He only has a minute before the man dies, so he dives into his mind to grab all memories he can.
Meanwhile, the three thugs are dissolving into foul-smelling smoke and ashes. Leaving behind no proof of their existence.

Croyd's eyes open wide. Wow. These guys really are hard core. How did he get mixed up in this nonsense? He considers going to try to suck the poisonbut aint no way he's giving mouth to mouth to that guy. Suddenly he's glad he changes appearance and powers every time he changes. VERY glad. For once and once only, he's looking forward to a nice nap.

"If you've got the power to have henchmen who dissolve cleanly into smoke, why the hell can't it be smoke that smells like incense or flowers or something?" Roberto complains, hand held over his mouth and nose. "At least invest in decent HVAC for your underground lair. I don't suppose you've got febreeze powers, too, Croyd?" His words are light and jokey, but his manner is more somber as he goes to put a hand bracingly on Nate's shoulder. If the psionic mutant taxes his powers too heavily and starts to collapse, he'll be here to keep him on his feet.

Nate is not taxing his powers as much as taxing his skill to suck out knowledge quickly from a dying mind. What is going prevent him from sleeping well the next few days is not the crazy horror he is seeing in the priest’s mind, but how it feels to be in the head of a person that dies. As a survivor of an Age of Apocalypse, he is somewhat desensitized to atrocities and madness, but he still looks rather pale when the priest finally stops breathing.
"Hell..." he murmurs, "well, I think I got all the police needs to dismantle Intergang presence in New York. And now maybe we have a name for gang top dog." Mr. DeSaad. Nice name, isn’t it? Sounds French.
"Lets get back to the safehouse, I am pretty sure Ray has finished upstairs."

[Heromux] Breakthrough

Summary: Kilroy meets Mantis.

Location: Metropolis

Date: 09/11/2014

Emitter: N/A

Players: Mantis, Kilroy Capital Conneticut

NPCs:

Groups:

Tone: Social, Angsty

Rating: Public

 
Kilroy is busy doing mischief. He has had to, a passionate creature driven toward goals, his primary goals have been erased from his mind and ensured that anyone who tried to help him notice has entirely forgotten about it. But that didn't necessarily prevent someone from finding him. So to a precognitive she can sense a massive change, a spinning top of global if not galactic or cosmic proportions, just spinning, spinning out of control.
Kilroy seems to be merely sitting at a cafe, but he's really moving money from one pile to another in a nearby evil bank, setting it to implode, like a demolitions expert to make them split up so they can't cause the damage they did before. Doing the things he didn't do before, but he believes need to be done.
Mantis gets some stares at the cafe, but soothes them with a few simple gestures. A smile, a nod of the head, a slight deference in expression. Empathic as she is, she often knows what people need to feel secure and safe in her presence, alien as she is. She cocks her head at Kilroy as she makes her order to the nearby waitress, "Tea. Mint, please." she says, then calmly takes a seat across from him.
"This one will not interrupt your task, momentous though it may be. But is trying to understand. You are a fulcrum and a lever, a hinge and a door. Where do you lead?"
Kilroy arches an eyebrow at the comment, but isn't distracted. Fortunately he's not one of those magicians that require concentration to work. It just does. Mainly because a lot of the work being done isn't his. He cocks his head and looks at her consider the statement, "That's an interesting statement. I think it depends on who is pulling the lever." He considers telling her more, but if he does, she might become victim to whoever has been erasing him as well. He's noticed that the closer he gets to investigating the coin, the more time is lost...and he is tired of losing time.
Mantis smiles to the waitress as the waitress sets the tea in front of her, then touches her hand briefly, "He likes you, too. Ask." she says simply, drawing a flush to the woman's cheeks. She lifts the cup evenly, unrushed, the tilt of her cup a precise 20 degrees. "Perhaps you should find out where your handle is, then. That way, you may find the hand."
Kilroy is not ignorant of the world, because he has studied certain things. How much is metaphor? "I used to be the financial adviser to Genosha. I knew something had been done to my mind. I was a senior cabinet member. It has some of the most powerful telepaths on earth. An entire week of my life is gone, and no memory remains. I have reason to believe that none of them remember either. The same thing occurred in the oblivion bar. Full of spell casters. Two weeks gone. Psychiatrists, cerebral scientists. Something is keeping me from remembering something. Something that can hide from me. If I seek the handle, it will simply erase this moment. And likely from your mind as well.
Mantis considers for a moment, a green nail tracing her green tea, blending in with her green skin, an emerald creature but for the black of her hair and her eyes. This man is peculiar, both for his openness and his acceptance. He has not remarked on her appearance. And he was once a powerful man in a powerful place and now he sits in a small cafe and seems perfectly at home.
"There is no such thing as erasing. When an eraser is drawn across a chalkboard, the particles are scattered. On the brush, in the air, beneath the nails of a teacher. Washed down the drain when the teaches washes her hands. Some stubbornly embedded in the board, invisible, but refusing to surrender."
"Don't try to find the whole thing. Find a fragment. Even if forgotten, this one will leave an impression upon you and you the same in return. Ripples. Otherwise, one could unweave the entire universe with a single such erasure. The universe is whole. There is no creation, no destruction. Only a changing of shape and form."
And at that moment Kilroy remembers a page in a book, the book of the man who didn't exist so long ago, and she can see clear as day a bomb go off in paradise, a nuclear cloud from so long ago still echoing to now. A coin spinning and spinning and spinning. "She can stop me finding out about the lost memory...but the story always leaves an out." He looks up and stares at her. "I need to leave. I need to find out where they took him. She can't stop that, which is why she hasn't erased Lunair's memory either. There are rules."
He sits down and breathes a sigh of relief..."there are rules."
After a moment he blinks, "Oh....hi. I'm Kilroy. Nice to meet you by the way...and you are?" Mantis smiles, "Mantis. This one does not believe much in rules, but, if they help you, you should use them. This one unfortunately does not know this Lunair. This one knows the man Warlock, he usually carries great wisdom. Who is it that you think was taken, or has that been lost to you as well?" say My father. I last remember confronting him over an artifact of tremendous power. He had his goons there, I was supposed to have help. Suddenly...the artifact is gone and so is he. He is somewhere...and the coin is not destroyed, but magically shielded. There are still ways for me to sense it. Warlock...." he considers, "the name is not familiar, but ..." he remembers. Something from Genosha he remembers, "Did Rocket say something about it? No. It was in a report I read. Something about...anomalies. If he is who I vaguely think he is, then he's important. And you are wise to listen to him. Lunair is the woman I love."
Kilroy says, "My father. I last remember confronting him over an artifact of tremendous power. He had his goons there, I was supposed to have help. Suddenly...the artifact is gone and so is he. He is somewhere...and the coin is not destroyed, but magically shielded. There are still ways for me to sense it. Warlock...." he considers, "the name is not familiar, but ..." he remembers. Something from Genosha he remembers, "Did Rocket say something about it? No. It was in a report I read. Something about...anomalies. If he is who I vaguely think he is, then he's important. And you are wise to listen to him. Lunair is the woman I love."
Mantis has her antennae perk, "Rocket is known to this one, he of the fur and the many guns. This one does not feel fondness for guns, but does for Rocket. He means well. Warlock is called Adam. Not a wizard, but something else. A wise man. A thinker. He is skilled at solving large problems. Puzzles," she says, taking another sip of her tea.
"This one is saddened that your father has goons. Goons, outside of a children's film about pirate treasure, generally only show loyalty to the violent and the cruel. It is good that you have someone to love. Love can protect."
Kilroy says, "My father had 'good' motivation but was warped beyond measure. I think he's been taken. And I should find him. I met him once, Adam Warlock is the one mentioned in the report. If I'm right...then this problem is in an alternate timeline though, very dangerous, the Nine Prime Worlds, not space. But Love does indeed protect. It's one of the most powerful kinds of magic there is...and the oldest."
Mantis cocks her head, "Magic. Science. Living. Dead. Humans categorize so very much. This one thinks your minds look sometimes like the homes of ants, tiny compartments, everything with its proper place. All timelines alternate. You simply need to know when it revolves and where. This one is not familiar with Nine Prime Worlds. It reminds this one of a program on the television: Star Trek. In Vietnam, Star Trek had many followers.
Kilroy nods, "My grandfather taught me a lot. I deliberately didn't learn magic like others. Everything has a spirit. Everything. Rocks. Forks. Today. Laughter. If you can speak to it. And it sounds like you have a wide perspective. The nine prime worlds are nine timelines that rule millions. They regard all other realities as unreal. They're technologically advanced but their biggest threat is just...how big they are." He finally gets the star trek reference. "Wait...are you Orion?"
Mantis shakes her head and gives a small laugh, "No, and neither is this one slave, although I have been called such. This one is Kree and Couatl, plant and flesh, Madonna and, yes, even Whore. This one has been worshiped by the universe, although that may not have happened yet. This one isn't always sure when she is," she says, taking another sip of her tea, "This one is...Mantis. She who makes Moondragon scowl, because this one fears no contradiction...and has beaten her ass once. Moondragon does not take losing lightly."
Kilroy says, "Whore?" His brow furrows at that. He might be slightly darker and his brain Swiss cheese but he's still somewhat of a gentleman. He almost says that of course she isn't but...so much metaphore....so he simply says, "Pleased to meet you Mantis. I don't know moon dragon. Kree sounds familiar. Couatl does not. Plants don't like me much right now, nor do animals. Something that was supposed to happen didn't and the blame me. But I'm glad you will be worshiped by the universe. That sounds interesting. I dare say that even if your memory was erased I bet you'd get it back again." He smiles, "And I'm pleased by this. Madonna....so...you have children?"
Mantis shakes her head, "Not in the conventional sense. Do not crease your brow so at 'whore', Master Kilroy. This one learned much, of humility and of the flesh, of which this one is half. This one is sorry that blame weighs upon you, the sickness of cause and effect has many victims. This one does not particularly care to be worshiped, but it is necessary to create peace. Apparently, this one's very lack of desire to be worshiped counts as a qualification," she smiles softly.
Kilroy considers. She's precognitive and then decides that she's likely speaking of an event yet to happen. He's seen enough of them. He's known something was coming for quite some time which is why having it taken from him drives him to distraction. "You know what....she...yes it is a she whoever she is...every time she's erased a memory, its been just me and another person. Maybe a team....talk to this Adam Warlock. See if he's up for a psychotically dangerous trip to free a psychotically dangerous fruitloop I'm descended from." But the stakes are more than that. Time has been tampered with. Disjointed. Upturned. The rails are coming off the tracks.
Mantis smiles slightly and somehow her tea cup has been refilled, although you don't recall the waitress returning, but then maybe she did, or did she bring two glasses to begin with? At any rate, it steams across the pea green of her face (she likes pea as a color, although many humans seem to have bad associations with the term), "This one believes Adam Warlock himself has been referred to as a dangerously psychotic frootloop. By himself, if I'm not mistaken. Or perhaps another him. He has a view of those. Some of the Hims are even capitalized," she says. "But this one will seek out Warlock. Some people find him off putting, because he's so strange and unusual. But, then, I myself am...strange and unusual." she says, flicking her antenna. Kilroy says, "I'm the same way, so who am I to complain?" He looks her over. She might be part plant but the curves are all there. Still, he nods, "I appreciate it. MY father met versions of himself, but I haven't yet. I've been told there aren't many of me. Does...it hurt? Seeing so much? I can see a coin anywhere in the universe in time or space, but that's just one spectrum. It looks like the veil is a lot more...lifted for you."
Mantis purses her lips, genuinely considering, "Once, yes. Distance is required. Perspective. To understand that fluctuation, that change, cannot be prevented, and need not be bad, even if, perhaps, it is not desired. To know that someone for whom this one had come to care, that they...he...was fragile and mortal and bound to be broken. Yes, this was painful. But this one learned. This one is always learning," she says, pausing a moment out of respect for her own emotion and the man who brought it, whether he be alive or dead. She isn't certain which he is, in this world, but, then, she's never sure which world she's in.
"Part of this is why this one refers to herself as such. To be 'I', you would need to meet me, whole and complete. But this one is never whole and complete, never I, for there are other selves on other paths. And this one tries, always, to tell the truth."
Kilroy says, "There is a fascinating movie I recommend you watch called, "The invention of lying"...but to some their minds are locked in the sunlit world, only seeing that which is without magic or wonder...to them, they believe they are honest. But is mickey mouse or the lone ranger or sleeping beauty any less real in the cosmic sense of things? You can be an 'I' if you accept that the I is a construct...but...we're getting into weirdness. Though I suspect we both kind of live there." He orders some coffee himself. The money has been moved. But there are other things to do now. This might entail interesting things. "This one who might or might not be...what's his name?""
Mantis smiles, "This one calls him the Swordsman, though he surely has other names," she says, "Real in the cosmic sense...mmmmmmmmmmm, this one, thinks, perhaps, these things can be real, but constructed, different. Without soul. The image of the mouse to which you refer...this one finds it unnerving. Disquieting. The empty smile that never ceases, the eyes that never blink. Consuming wealth in endless quantities, mostly from children."
Kilroy says, "Well there is that, yes. I kind of fight that nonsense. Actually that bank," he points to the wagon spoke nearby, "Is about to divide itself into smaller less evil chunks. But before he was ruined, the mouse was an affable everyman. The world is vast enough in time. It turns and continues turning. Soul is in all things if you can awaken it and listen to it, though I totally truly understand why it might not seem that way to someone so awake to the world as you. I'm afraid I haven't heard of the swordsman, but I wish you well in your quest to find him."

[Heromux] A Money Mystery (Part 1)

Summary: Jo does some investigation

Location: Shield Helicarrier and Hackensack, New Jersey

Date: 09/05/14

Emitter: Croyd Crenson

Players: Jo Nah, Kilroy (in a security camera in disguise briefly)

NPCs: Jacob Schmidt, Yankee Conneticut

Groups: SHIELD

Tone: Classic, Social

Rating: Public

Direct 48124. It saved Shield quite an embarrassment. Maria Hill was none to keen on Shield investigating such 'easy' leads though she still wants them investigated. Word hasn't gotten out to the public yet, but in the federal law enforcement community folks are scrambling since it has been proven that the initial leads were merely a trap...but those that didn't fall for it, have SOMEHOW received leads of massive amounts of financial data for the cases they really are investigating. Its invaluable. But another trap?
Jo wants to know who is behind this, and what their motivation is. He was raised on Rimbor, a planet originally founded by criminals robbing the graves of a forgotten civilization. Crime is something he knows, and while he has been a hero for years now, suspicion is still second nature for him. Someone needs to investigate the source of this information, and an independent investigation is less likely to be compromised.
Jo starts with the physical letter, and with the report on the investigation he is sure has already been done so he does not go over the same territory. Just possibly he might notice something they missed.
The letter in question is in the evidence vault. Jo Nah has enough clearance to gain access to it. Everyone wants to find the source. There is a file with relevant information to be read if he chooses of what has been learned so far. The letter itself reveals that the paper is natural and that there is an unusual chemical in very trace amounts on one small section of the letter that isn't on the others. It is possible that they missed it when sampling the paper and running chemical analysis of the ink, though it is not immediately apparent merely by vision what that chemical might be.
Jo calls attention to the section of paper with the abnormal residue. He takes a note paper and makes a note of the isomeric forms of the chemical before he sends it to the lab. The thing about his vision is he can not tell, for example, carbon from silicon because they have the same outer shell and form similar bonds. Well, he can guess, and guess fairly well, because the outer electron shell is a slightly different size, but there are occasions he can be wrong, so it is better to analyze it professionally. He places his notes in the casebook of his investigation and moves on to the scene.
While they are analyzing the chemical, Jo works on the trail of the data input. He is not the best data seeker in the world, but is as good as most professionals in this century, and has run into a few things in the future that might not have been thought of yet. He suspects that the data run is using stop bits and data transmission duplication for error checking. Data is often sent in triplicate and then checked against itself for errors. If someone is changing the stop bits only on some of the duplicates, it would be subtle to detect, but could possibly act as a code...
The analysis takes a few hours but they're impressed. "Wow. That vision comes in handy. Totally new chemical here. The paper was pretty normal as was the ink, but this chemical? That's an industrial glue only used in a few places in the US. We can narrow it down to the city even. Hackensack, NJ."
It becomes obvious that there is a pattern here. And Jo Nah is able to see some things that shield hasn't yet. The data change in the accounts isn't coming from anywhere. There are no ip traces, and yet the bank it comes from and the bank it comes to, sometimes a secure government facility, records it as legitimate. Each time, but only the last time. So somehow they add and then subtract a transaction with NO trace of computer manipulation. All security sweeps indicate that there is no hacking of any kind. Its driving the analysts bonkers. But Jo Nah DOES notice...the physical letters were all sent at once. He believes they were sent from multiple locations at the same time but the other messages were sent one at a time...as if someone had to physically travel to the location to make the alteration, even though no facility has a record of a break in.
The evidence would tend to indicate someone with a legitimate reason to be in the banks, such as a delivery driver on an armored car, or a bank inspector, or an insurance investigator. How the changes are being made he is uncertain, but if he runs through the security cameras he might notice if the same individual appears in multiple locations. He can key facial recognition software for the same search.
A normal person looking wouldn't see anything. But with the super speed, Jo Nah recognizes...something. The thing is, that the internal cameras only show one person in three locations that matches, which is significant but he doesn't appear in any of the other twelve. But he...doesn't...DO anything. He just shows up, makes a deposit into an account in one instance, reads a news paper in a chair for a few moments in another, and then just chats with a pretty bank teller in the third. Never goes near a monitor.
Three in twelve is hardly conclusive, but Jo flags the appearances for other investigators and then sets out to Hackensack New Jersey. It seems likely the suspect spends time there, Jo should be able to locate him if he is in the area. He wonders if the person is something like a technopath, able to interface directly with the bank computers at close range. That would hardly be the strangest power he has ever encountered.
The investigation of the person doesn't immediately turn up much. Certainly not at the post office. The residue does however get more results and it is likely the source in a single factory near the outskirts of town that makes tiny artisan brushes.
Jo heads over to the brush company. There is a chance someone there knows something, but also a chance it is only one of their customers. He will have to check in depth.
An examination from afar doesn't yield results per se. The guy in the bank isn't here. No one is whispering, "I am a bank robber" etc. But...there is one guy, in his late thirties who is reading a news article about the investigations and looks...nervous. But he doesn't look like anyone who was in one of the banks. Before doing closer, Jo reads the man's identification using his Penetra vision. That information goes in his case file before he lands behind an obstruction and walks slowly over to the nervous man. He addresses the man, "Good afternoon, a very interesting article, is it not?"
The man's name is Jacob Schmidt. He jumps nervously and then looks about. What the hell? He then spots the guy is shield and then looks more nervous. Hardly a master criminal here. "Er...yes. Yes it is."
Jo identifies himself, "My name is Jo Nah, I am with SHIELD. Earlier today, I discovered evidence that someone here, at this company, may know something about the investigation. Seeing you reading about it piques my interest. Perhaps you would like to talk about it?"
Jacob scratches his head,"How in God's name did you guys track down that letter? I did everything the guy told me to do..it seemed pretty fool proof. He's never asked me to do anything like that before."
Jo smiles, "I have a few tricks not common to most investigators. So, as far as I know, you have not done anything illegal, but perhaps you could introduce me to the person you are speaking about, and tell me exactly what he has had you do."
He shakes his head, "Never met the guy. Or guys. My grandpa, right after the war, comes home and is a wreck. Someone pays off his debtors and asks if he wants a side job doing some good. And it always seemed to be good, dropping money off to charities, random folks and the like. He just picked it up and delivered it. But...my grandfather could barely describe the guy, and I've never met him. All I have is this." He takes out a Gold Dollar, 1930 issue.
Jo studies the dollar and says, "So how are you contacted, and what, to the best of your recollection, has he asked you to do when?"
Jacob says, ""We never kept any log. That's part of the instructions. But the coin shakes, vibrates, like a phone does when he has a message, and then I flip it...heads or tails like morse code. It takes a while but he pays well. Its been hundreds of times, for the last sixty years. The letter I sent to SHIELD was the last one I sent. He paid me nice and said it might be the last time he contacted me for some time. If ever."
Jo focuses his ultra vision, checking to see if there is any kind of circuitry or other device he can detect that could create the effect described. Assuming he does not find one, he will say, "Keep a close watch on that coin, I need to discuss this with my superiors."
Director Fury especially, if this started in WW2, possibly he knows something.