chase

St Martial Candi, Misosazai, and Saki A few days later, hours before the 4th Hero extraction Candi pounded on the door, shouting, "Open up already. We brought breakfast and booze!" Saki laughed beside her "For some of us, that's one and the same! Open up! Let's see that shiner I'd been hearing about!" Saki- aka Sakura Kobayashi- was the one of Isabel's talents. Smaller, fairer-featured, and a hint or two lighter-complexion than Misosazai, she could still be mistaken for her younger sister. Remarkable given she was more than a decade older than Misosazai. Today, though she was barking out commands in a way that transformed her into an older, wiser, and more beliggerent dragon mom. "It's afternoon." Misosazai corrected while opening the door to peek out. She was in the bathrobe, hair still wet from the shower. A green-and-purple bruise dominated the left side of her face. If the girls hadn't been with her the day before with a totally unmarked face, they'd both have sworn that the bruise was a week old- well on its way to healing. Saki grabbed hold of Misosazai's chin and practically dragged her to the bathroom mirror. "I thought you were bs'ing me about it, but you've been meditating, right? That's Kuj-in Sha working its magic. Maybe another day? Two? and this will be gone, instead of weeks. Incredible. " She then shifted in tone from wonder to reprimand, "What were you doing, using that face to stop a kick? Girl, that's a million-dollar smile, if you ever smiled. Stop trying to ruin it!" Candi was left hauling both the food cart and their "triage kit" (full off the 3 m's- medication, make-up, and mind-numbing booze) into the rooom. "You were out till 4am. You're working our shift now. Afternoon is breakfast!" The room was better than her last visit. The bed seemed slept in. No more blankets in the closet. The black leather bodysuit now slumped propped up in the corner, stuffed stiff with bath towels and blankets in the futile hope that it would stretch out, kinda like a kinky headless scarecrow. Miso and Saki remained in the bathroom, ignoring her. Saki was doing most of the talking, "So many try the meditations and get nothing- y'know. My baa-baa used to say that if they worked it meant you had oni or yokai in your bloodline somewhere. Oh, so many questions." Candi called out, "Stop talking and start applying concealer. She's got another op in a few hours. Gotta look the part." "Bass Crouper, again?" Misosazai called out from the bathroom. "Nope. One of yours. Someone found another cape!" Both went silent. Candi started pouring drinks. "Now get out here. Food's cold, and I'm not waiting." Misosazai was already there. The news that of another hero rescue op was all it took, "What do we have?" Candi gestured to the food platter- a generous selection from the now-closed breakfast buffet, barely warm. The scrambled eggs were gummy by now, but still edible. "No. Intel." Misosazai corrected. "That's right- no intel. Here's the dossier." Candi gestured with her imaginary tablet. "Let's see, you show up at the location they'll wire you 30 min before the meet. You do what they they tell you. You ask no questions. You save the hero. You come home." "Man, I've been on that exact same assignment. Well, minus the 'save the hero' part." Saki chuckled, helping herself to a strawberry and a mimosa before even taking a seat. Both new girls helped themselves to the food they pruportedly brought for Misosazai, but they both stopped abruptly when Misosazai winced sharply as she tried to squeeze into her own seat. "You're hurt. Where?" "It's nothing, maybe a bruised rib. Been like that for a while." "Let's see it." "It's nothing." Candi piped in, "Saki's our resident bonesaw. She's got special forces medical training." Saki corrected her, "That sounds better than it is. One of my regulars was an 18D- a Special Forces Medical Sergeant. when he learned I was pre-med, he showed me some things." "That's what 18D means? I though that was just code for his preferences- lookin barely legal and big up front." Candi quipped. Saki flicked the remains of her strawberry at Candi, then turned full dragon-mom on Misosazai, "If you're moving like this now, how are you going to fight? Let me see it." Misosazai just drew the bathrobe tighter. "I'll pop some pills before I head out." "STRIP!" It could've been the dragon-mom attitude or that Miso was more concerned about the injury than she was letting on, but Candi took this as a victory that they were earning the girl's trust. She didn't ask anyone to turn around this time or keep objecting. She just disrobed and positioned herself so they had a full view of her left side and back. The bruising was obviously bad to even the untrained Candi, but she was grateful for Saki's more detailed analysis. "..concentric rings radiating out, drifting down with gravity. focal point suggests the 10th rib. Each at a different stage of healing. Looks like it's cut surrounding tissue at least 8 different times. You got about a half inch of swelling- maybe a pus pocket- between pieces. That's probably why you couldn't get the bones to knit. They aren't close enough." She traced the rib path around to Miso's front, triggering an uncomfortable flinch. "Your tenth rib's floating. No cartilage in front. Not uncommon in us Japanese. Means there's nothing stiff holding that broken piece in place now. It just moves with every hit you take, slashing your insides. Lacerate the spleen and it could kill you." Candi let out a giggle, causing both of them to stop and stare at her, "What? I thought you were making a funny. Y'know 'ow, my spleen!" Is that a real thing? I thought somebody just made that up." The silence and mutual stares just continued, until Saki broke silence, "Miso, meet a product of Etoile Islands public schools." "I didn't even know they had public schools." Misosazai teased, sampling a mimosa herself before the others drank them all. "So, What are our options?" Candi switched topics. "Well, Miso, you drink much?" She rapidly returned the beverage as if she'd been caught, shaking her head no. "Well, you can start today. Somewhere between can't stand and borderline poisoning. We'll adjust from there. You need to be numbed. It's going to hurt like hell, but I need to get the two parts closer together if your biofeedback magic is going to do the rest." "No. not today." Candi interjected. "This op is a done deal. Maybe a few shots now, but she's gotta be sober in 4 or 5 hours." Saki continued poking around the injury, reading Misosazai's face for a pain response. "No way you're doing that op. Not like this. Not if you take body shots like your face took last night. Russian Roulette would be safer." "Can you do it with her sober?" Saki was finishing off her mimosa- her second one, counting the one she had downstairs, possibly more before Candi got there. "Maybe a pro could- maybe Facemaker, but I need her muscles relaxed and her reflexes slowed if I'm going to have even a chance at this. Even if she's not shouting out in pain, she will tense." She changed tone and gave Candi a playful wink, "Also, watch your phrasing, please. You know I can't pass up lines like that." The last part went right over Misosazai's head, as she focused on the first part. "Facemaker?" "Resident expert in elective or discreet surgery. Doesn't come cheap, even for baseline stuff. Probably would charge a couple grand for.." "Ten, at least, but I'd have to check with Isabel." Candi cut her off with an angry glare. She'd pressed all the girls to lay off any money talk so they don't ruin any opportunity for additional markup. This wasn't helping. "Facemaker's... uh... got a side in fashion, so we sometimes get different rates than mercs would." "She wears Tina's stuff" Saki said, clearly not getting it. "She wears Tina's stuff differently!" "Well yeah, with the pants..." Saki reached absently for another mimosa, but Candi blocked her. "No, I mean as a merc. We wear Facemaker's stuff as eyecandy- kinda walking billboards. Mercs don't.. but yeah... Miso- you really should lose the pants. Like, whenever you can. I mean, the look's cute, but those legs are killer. Show off your moneymakers." "The rest's real good moneymaking material too," Saki said, pointing a twirling finger at Miso in one hand as she sipped from another... where did she get THAT one from? The comment prompted Misosazai to quickly recover the bathrobe and cinch it tight, but the other girls hardly noticed as they playfully bantered. "Well, yeah, that's a given, but wearing body armor takes priority over flashing those assets." "Silver Mantis proves you can do both." The exchange went on for a few minutes, name-dropping various heroines and villains, their costumes, and their effectiveness, and whether they could do better with more or less (usually less) flesh covering. At one point, Candi pulled out her smartphone to find examples of fanart that was far better than the actual costumes, while Saki relied on shouting her retorts back. Finally Misosazai brought them back to topic, calmly stating, "The pants stay. My fighting style's all kicks. Even if my legs aren't all bruised up, I'm not flashing my panties at everyone trying to kill me." "My favorite moneymaker! Oh- Facemaker has a whole line of lingere, maybe if you were modeling that you'd get a discou.."Saki piped out before giving a late-but-knowing look to Candi," ... I mean, it's a really exclusive and expensive line but so worth it." Miso had turned to fish something from between the mattresses to catch the eye exchange. She brought out a tiny electronic device the size of a watch. "Could this help?" Saki recognized it immediately. "A medical transporter! Girl, whatever you do, don't activate that. If you're lucky, it'll send you straight to an Arachnos prison cell. If you're not, it'll take you to one of the isle's best worst medical facilities." "Yeah, the only time instruments in those places get sterilized is when a worker spills their booze on them. Where did you get that, anyway? You said you weren't a registered hero." Misosazai shrugged "Some catgirl gave me hers- told me not to use it, except in emergency. She wasn't sure if it'd just work or if it'd catgirl-ify me or something." "I don't think it would, but maybe that's how they recover so fast- keeping a healthy-state scan in memory or something. Even then, though- that would be held at the hospital, not the transponder, so you're probably safe. I still wouldn't use unless I was at deaths' door. Not unless you wanted extended 1 on 1 time with an arachnos interrogator- and I don't recommend that. We had one as a client a few years back and he never seemed to be able to separate work and play." Saki had put down her drink, then started waving with both hands, as if she had a revelation, "Hey Candi- imagine- if the transponder DID catgirl-ify you- and if you could reverse it- that'd be a great prop for neko nights, eh?" Misosazai raised an eyebrow, "Do I want to know?" "It's kinda a semi-annual thing. Easiest money I ever had. Cruise ships full of salarymen come in for conventions. The girls show up wearing cat ears, hotpants with tails attached, paw mittens & stocking and just act ridiculous. You're sweeping money off the floor by the end of the night." Saki made a grand gesture with her arms raking in the dough. "Forget acting ridiculous. Miso, you could just stand there and do the 'go away' glare you do to all the guys downstairs, and you'd proably still clear a grand an hour. Hell, I was paid $500 just to eat sushi wearing ears, a tail, and nothing else." Candi interjected. "How'd the tail stay on?" Saki laughed. "Huh?" "If you weren't wearing anything else. How'd the tail stay on?" "Uncomfortably." The trio laughed, but Misosazai's deep blush sparked a second round of jeers from Saki and Candi. "Ccostume-glue silly! Same as pasties. Where was your mind?" Misosazi tried to defend herself, but they just kept teasing her. "Miso, love, relax. We know. Makes me wonder what websites our innocent one is visiting at that open hotspot you frequent." Saki grabbed Misosazi's phone from the charger and tossed it to Candi, continuing the tease. "You're too young for those sites. Do we need to enable parent controls, Candi?" "Lemme see." Candi giggled, as she quickly opened the mail and downloaded the program she'd sent while looking up the costumes earlier. Looks like Saki's shouting had been unnecessary. Notifications were off. The program installed without a hitch just as the tech had said. Tracking and mirroring was now enabled. "Nope, nothing in history. She's either clearing the cache well or our girl's just a natural perv." She tossed the phone back to Misosazai, who was desperately trying to change the subject. "Back to tonight's op. I'm doing it. I've been dealing with this for weeks. It can last another day. After that we'll discuss whether I get good n drunk with Saki..." "My favorite plan!" Saki shouted in celebration. "... or whether we see the facemaker, I guess. " "Probably the smarter plan, but not nearly as fun!" Saki confirmed, sagely. "Candi, do you think Isabel would front me the money in exchange for more merc work?" Candi smiled. According to Isabel, they were already far ahead on this. Getting M "owing" them farther was just a double-win. "I don't think she'll have a problem with that, but I'll find out. I take it that's our cue to leave? You probably need to meditate again tonight." "Actually, there's only so much Kuj-in Sha I can take before my mind starts going places I don't want to go. if you don't mind sticking around- there's plenty of food for everyone and I could use some help afterward getting into that leather monstrosity." Saki sat back down to the food and waved Candi off. "I got this. Go. I can still apply some anti-inflammatories and other stuff to numb her up, too. Maybe other stuff, too. Just send up lunch when it's ready." Candi really needed to get back to the tech and confirm the stealth install was working. She'd been worried about leaving Saki inside- she seemed far too friendly with Miso and far too drunk for that to end well, but the wink she gave on that last line let her know Saki was still firmly in her camp and planning ahead. If there was anything wrong with the phone hack, she'd be in place to give it another try, and the message could be sent via room service. As she closed the door, she called out, "If by numb, you mean booze, keep it light ok? And Miso, keep an eye on Saki. Don't let her get too bombed. She's got work tonight too."

“Ouro portal open near Sunstorm!” Mobius Stripper shouted, as another piece of the heroine’s costume blinked away. It was a constant cycle- more and more of her brown skintight-practically-painted-on-tights disappeared and revealed the tan skin underneath until just as she reached the point where an arrest would be warranted, it flipped. Suddenly she was in a flesh-tan suit, blinking away to display her dark brown skin underneath. It was the most annoying side effect of her time-manipulation powers, but the inevitable catcalls did make beating up the badguys so much more gratifying. A tiny catgirl scampered up- grey, furry all over, wearing even less than she did, eyes the size of saucers and her whiskers curled forward in fascination. “Oooh! Shiny. Is it gold?” As she reached out to touch, a familiar voice shouted, “Free donuts in City Hall! Get em before Azuria loses them!” It was odd- not just because Mo knew donut day always fell on a Thursday, but because the voice came from the direction opposite of City Hall. It didn’t matter to the catgirl, though, who darted to City hall with a barely- understandable “BRB.” Almost as soon as the catgirl disappeared into City Hall, she reappeared from the direction of the voice. No wonder it sounded familiar. “Heyas. Close’un. Name’s Tabby. You’re Mobius Stripper, I know. Lazarus sent me. What the heck are you doing? Mo was feeling more than a little confused. “It’s called Entrusted with the Secret not ‘Share the secret with everyone on the street. ‘ Why don’t you just grab the news crew while you’re at it? Broadcast it to the world!” “The more heroes that know about this, the more prepared we’ll be for the coming storm!” “Coming storm, my ass. Forget the coming storm- you almost gave Ouroboros access to a CATGIRL! That’s, like ten thousand times more disastrous, according to Mender Lazarus.” “But that… was you?” “Yeah, you’re getting it! See, I eventually get in and they were all ‘oh No! what do we do’ but then I offered to go back and stop myself, and they were all, like ‘that’d be awesome!’ but then I barely finished when someone ELSE put out a portal and let me in. I’ve been stopping me ever since. I’m damn good at it too- this makes 57, so get outta here already and don’t ruin the streak. I remember I was grumpy when there were no donuts, so you don’t wanna be around when I get back anyway.” “But I’m still not sure how this is worse than…” “CATGIRLS! OUROBOROS! What’s not to get? Think of Mender Derek’s screwup, now imagine he’s a she, with cat ears and a tail. Now take it all the way to ten thousand!” “Ok, that sounds bad. In my defense, nobody ever told me not to recruit catgirls.” The catgirl seemed to be getting impatient, “Think hard. Think REALLY HARD. Is there ever a time where adding catgirls IMPROVED a situation? Ever? I AM one, and I can tell you that my life’s been worse ever since I became one. Come on! The timestream continuum’s on the line! Just get outta here and be careful who you share this thing with in the future, please!" Mo took the advice to heart, and was about to leap, when the catgirl flagged her. “Oh! Wait! I got a message from Mender Ramiel for you, too. It says ‘Keep Tabby away from the Well of… well, I think he meant Furries there. Someone has to explain autocorrect to the guy.’” The catgirl blinked, contemplated for a moment, then said, “That shouldn’t be hard. I hate water and can’t stand furries. I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about. Problem solved! Now GO!” Mo didn’t hesitate and she MADE SURE the portal closed behind her. ------------------------ As she re-emerged in the Mender vessel, she saw an old friend sitting by the reflecting pool. “Mender Lazarus! I just had the most surreal experience.” “Ah, you met Tabby, then? “Um… yeah… I had no clue that catgirls were such a hazard.” “They aren’t. We were just trying out a new initiation process. We figured she’d catch on after 3 or 4 of these. What was she up to when you found her?” “57” “Ah, so still early. She started suspecting something in the two-twenties, then got really grumpy in the 300’s. In retrospect, we should’ve intervened before 500, but it was such a nice, even number.” “She did this 500 times?” “501. She got real efficient at the end, so we kinda missed catching her.” “Ok, so this was all some warped initiation joke?” He nodded. “And Ramiel’s 'Well of Furies?' reference, too?” “Oh, no, we’re dead serious there- an incarnate catgirl, can you imagine?”

St Martial Candy and Misosazai A Few Days Later Candy shifted her weight outside as she listened to the deadbolt slide and the safety chain come off. It still didn't open. Then came the sound of moving furniture. “What’d you do, barricade the door, too? Paranoid much?” The door finally opened. Cleaned up and in the hotel’s complimentary fuzzy bathrobe, the carnie tramp didn’t look much like either now. “Hey, lookatthat. You clean up nice,” she said, muscling herself into the room. “I brought over some of Tina’s old stuff for you to pick through- should be mostly your size. I know Issy said she’d have stuff sent over, but she’s been distracted by a special group of clients, so I figured I’d step in and… let me hang this stuff up and we’ll take a look… hey, are you sleeping in the CLOSET?” One of the hotel downy comforters was folded into a makeshift mattress with a pillow at one end. Misosazai’s face flushed slightly, “I know it’s paranoia, but… just in case someone came in while I slept… I figured I could get the jump on them.” “Girl, you need to learn to relax. There’s smart paranoia, then there’s crazy paranoia, and I’m no expert in your line of work, but I think you’re on the straightjacket side right now.” “Speaking of straightjackets…” The stripped mattress was covered in towels, and on top of them was a wet leather bodysuit laid out all spread-eagle. All the room’s moveable lamps were positioned down on it. “I wouldn’t have taken you for the catsuit type. Careful with drying that. Wet leather shrinks with heat.” “I know. It already did. In my last… op… I ended up on an island in Nerva with no boat or bridge. Had to swim. Stood under a hand dryer at the ferry landing for like an hour. Damn thing got tight- like impossible-to-move tight. For the last half I had to unzip it down to the navel just to breathe.” Candy giggled. “Damn, that’d have been a sight.” She managed to draw a blush and a shy smile from the girl and a halfhearted laugh. It really had been a sight, too, but Misosazai was wrong- it was precariously below the navel in the shots Candy had seen. Casino security was being generous with them. Other cameras that even hotel security couldn’t access had already let her know the state of the room before she entered, too, but she had to keep up the ruse. “Well, next time you plan to wear that, you’re going to need to start real early - like days. Leather will stretch back—over time, but it’ll be a bitch to wear till then. Might also want to powder up to slide in and out more easily. You’re gonna look like you’re doing full-body geisha paint or superhardcore goth or a coke bather for this thing.” “Coke bather?” “Yeah, get covered in the stuff so rich execs can snor… y’know- never mind, probably not the best reference. That trend was so last-year, anyway.” She checked on the boots at the base of the bed. "Well, at least these are usable, and then there's your old getup.” Carnie Tramp… no, stick with the name she gave Isabel- Missy? Miso? Shit, she’d googled it and it was Japanese for some bird or something. Whateverhername…. she’d said something unexpected that was the important part. It was obviously a curse from the tone but not English. “Wait- was that Spanish?” “Yeah, sorry. I’m not fluent. My parents were determined we’d grow up speaking English, but it was’t their first language. When they got pissed they’d still curse in Spanish. My brother and I would get them pissed a lot then compare notes. Curse words are about all I can say.” “Your codename’s not Spanish, though, right?” If she’d done this research wrong, Isabel would have her hide. “Right, Misosazai’s Japanese for Wren.” Candice started sorting through the clothes, trying to find something for Misosazai, since there was no way that suit would be street-worthy for at least a few days. "But you don't speak Japanese?" “No.” "And that's not your real name, obviously. So, what should I call you?” “Misosazai” she replied, without hesitation. Candy visibly flinched, “I’m sorry, that was presumptive of me. I just… I mean in this business I should know better than getting personal with someone. I didn’t mean to pry. I should just go..” “It’s OK, I… I didn’t intend it as a shutdown. My friends called me Misosazai. My family called me Misosazai. Everyone that knows me calls me Misosazai. My real name…. well, the last people to call me by my real name really didn’t know me at all.” Candy sat at the edge of the bed, clearly expecting more from this story. Misosazai seemed to let her guard down and sat on the corner opposite her. “It was all: ‘Hi Shandora, let’s help you to your new room and introduce you to the other fosters,’ and ‘Shandora, let’s talk about how we process grief’ or ‘We’re sorry, Shandora, but your brother’s fosters won’t be able to bring the only real fucking family you have left over for a visit this weekend. Again.’ Or ‘Ms. Ward, to the principal’s office now.’ “The last part- starting with Ms.- that was actually the hardest- like I almost expected someone to call me Misosazai and I’d turn around and see Ryk or mom or one of her friends. Someone who knew me. I gave up. I won't be that person anymore. I’m just Misosazai, now.” They sat in silence until Candy extended a hand and a warm smile, “Well, Misosazai, nice to meet you. I’m Candice Cage. No relation- unfortunately. My friends all call me Candy.” “Ok… Candy.” Isabel was so right. Be tough around her and the walls go up, but show a little bit of vulnerability or trust and the kid melts. “Do you mind a nickname, something shorter like Missy or Miso or…?” She was cut off, “Anything but Missy or Mizzy.” There was history there. Maybe for another time. “Ok, Miso it is, then." She pulled something from the closet and passed it over, "Why don’t you try on this? Good thing about black: it goes with anything.” It was a light slip of a dress, spaghetti straps, short, and slit up the thigh. Misosazai’s face was a blend of intrigue and discomfort “God, I’d look like such a hook… er… I mean… I didn’t. That came out so wrong.” “No, no problem, I get it. I wouldn’t have expected it, given what you were wearing when we found you, but I do get it. Try it on anyway. We’ll build up from there.” She went over to the closet and fished around, “Maybe with some of… well, there are jeans, there are skinny jeans and then there’s practically painted-on, like this, but the material’s elastic enough for you to kick without splitting them. Plus, they’d go with the boots, and with the skirt on top, you won’t feel like your ass is on full display.” She passed over the clothes and they stood in awkward silence, facing one another until Candy got the message and turned around to face the wall, rolling her eyes. “For what it’s worth,” she called back over her shoulder, “We don’t use the term hooker. Those girls work the street or the floor. Nothin wrong with that, but it’s a dangerous job we don’t do. When we’re on the floor, it’s strictly for info gathering. We work with the high-rollers- all carefully vetted, and a lot of them regulars that last all night, if not days. Sometimes we’ll do special parties and stuff, but really, we’re more like high-cost dates offering a full range of experiences, not just fu***ng for dollars.” “I didn’t mean…” “I know. Forget it. Let’s change the topic. You mentioned a brother. He like you? In the hero biz?” The silence told her she’d hit a nerve. “No. Not like me. Ryk was very much not like me. Probably would have been a great hero. Mom always say that he got dad’s Latin physique but her Asian mind. Said that made him the perfect warrior. I, on the other hand, got I got her build with a Latina temperament. She called that the perfect disaster.” “Ouch.” “It was more a tease than a dis. Mom was always training him up- he’d win tournament after tournament. It’s kinda what she did- come up with custom fighting styles for heroes based on their strengths and weaknesses. With Ryk, that meant that the toughest part of getting him in the Olympics was determining what style he was closest to using.. With me, it was all ‘Run. Hide. Don’t draw notice to yourself. Hit hard when you have to, then hide some more.’ I always wanted to do the flashier kicks and gymnastic moves that she taught others, but she’d just yell “Misosazai!” and send me back to my katas. You can turn around now.” The jeans-with-dress kinda worked- it fit- had a kinda “sassy formal” twist to it. “Sounds like Misosazai was codeword for ‘STFU, kid.’” That got a laugh. “Oh, it was totally STFU, in her own way, but more. The wren’s small, not showy or flashy, and is so common it just blends into the background. It’s what she wanted me to do, so she started calling me that all the time to drill it in. Once she did, it kinda caught on with everyone. ” “Everyone telling you to STFU all the time. Did the message ever get through?” “Not a chance.” She laughed again. Candy got the impression the girl hadn’t had reason to laugh in a long time. She studied herself in the mirror again. “I’m not used to dressing up.. for attention. Mom never approved, and on the street, it was dangerous to… y’know, draw attention to yourself.” “I didn’t bring any jackets, but now that I know they’ll fit, I’ll send the rest of Tina’s stuff” “What happened to Tina?” Candy hesitated, her voice cracking a little as she spoke, “Her… friend for the night had enemies. She was collateral damage.” “I’m sorry.” “Yeah, well, her tastes were a bit different. Don’t get too wigged out if you find anything too… um... trade specific in with them, ok? I really don’t want to spend too much time sorting or thinkin of her.” “I won’t need all that. I'll be heading out soon and I’ve got to travel light.” “Isabel says with all the favors you got for her, this place is yours for a month. Sorry, that was the other message I was supposed to deliver.” “I couldn’t.” “You’re not imposing- and don’t let Isabel make you think you owe her or something. You help people. You got skills we don’t. Keeping you close… maybe things’ll turn out different for the next Tina.” “I can’t make promises.” “Then don’t. Just use what you can for as long as you can. No obligations. But… if you want to feel obligated… when some new merc op takes you halfway around the world to rescue some kidnapped oil baron’s son and they shower you with millions, come back and buy us a round of drinks, ok?” Misosazai rolled her eyes, laughing. “I’m not a merc.” "Hero, then? How’s that pay anyway? Product endorsements? Free rent?” “I’m not sure. I’m not really that, either. Not… like… registered or anything. This thing in St. Martial, it’s just something I had to do.” “So what pays the bills?” She shrugged, “I live lean.” “So what happens if you, I dunno, get shot and you need to lay low a while?” “I don’t expect to live through that.” “What? One of those ‘wolf only loses one fight, and in that fight, wolf dies’ folk? Seriously?” The nod was so matter of fact- there wasn’t the glimmer of hesitation in her eyes. “You’re fuckin serious! You didn’t come here to find the heroes- you came here to die, and searching for the heroes just makes it sound more noble.” “I fight. That’s all I know, and I’m just gonna do that till I can’t fight anymore.” “Girl, that’s effin crazy. I f**k. It’s about all I know, too. I BS the rest, but I’m not gonna f**k myself to death, and I’ve found a way to make money off it, at least!” “It’s not the sa..” “It’s the same thing. We both got gifts. We use them. You don’t know how to turn a profit on yours, but they’re worth a lot more than mine, I’m telling ya. Isabel can help with that, even.” “I don’t need the money.” “Sure you do. When we found you when was the last time you ate? You were mugging freaks for pocket change to make ends meet. Is that really how you want to meet your end? Weak from no food and no sleep, and taken out during a mugging. Is that the end of your great fight?” “I’m not gonna try to talk you away from dyin. I’ve met a lot of people with that attitude- and yeah, they do eventually die, but not before they get twisted up in something bad. They don’t get the death they want. They get some miserable pathetic way out when they were worn down or in debt to other people who treated them as disposable. To keep control of your destiny, you need cash. They forgot that. Don’t you do the same.” That seemed to be sinking in. “Talk to Isabel. She’ll help- for a cut.” Misosazai’s phone was charging next to the bed. It’ screen was unlocked. She grabbed it. “Here, I’ll give you her direct number. She won’t mind ya havin it.” Small contact list. Very small, and the only active app was… “What’s this? One of those places you’ve been lookin for?” Misosazai snatched the phone back. That said it all. “Let me take a copy. Wasn’t much to distinguish it from any hovel on the isles, but some of the girls come from that kind of background. Maybe we can help.” “Too dangerous.” “For you, yeah, you had that cape look even when you were flashin panties at everyone you kicked, but some of us are natives to that kind of place. We can get in and out where you can’t.” Misosazai held the phone close. “C’mon, we don’t get many chances to be the hero in our line of work.” She reluctantly handed the phone over. Candi forwarded the pic and handed the phone back. “There. Probably won’t be anything we can do, but ya never know.” She got up to leave. “Y’know, some of the girls are getting together for ladies’ night later tonight. No clients, just us. They’re all curious of the new heroine they’ve been hearin about. If you got nothing goin on, let the catsuit dry for a night and come down n visit.” “… I might.” “Ok, fair- no commitment, but if you do: The black’s dress is good, but the green would really bring out your eyes. Consider dropping the jeans and boots- there’s some heels in there that’d go great with it.” The wary expression said it all. “Remember, you’re in St. Martial! The frickin Sin City of the Atlantic. Half the population dresses like hookers here- the superpowered ones are even worse. Have you seen Silver Mantis? She makes that getup look practically Amish!” Candi switched to her best mock-somber face, “Sometimes to be the wren you have to dress like a songbird.” She couldn’t hold the face long, as a playful grin slid into place., “Hey! I like that. Sounds kinda proverb-y. Maybe that’s something your mom would say in this situation?” “This situation?” Misosazai eyed the dress and the heels in the closet and blushed. “I’m pretty sure she’d say ‘Young lady, you’re grounded!’” That confirmed that green was the right choice- the girl would be too red-faced most of the night for the red one. “Ok, I’ll see you at 8, the Glencoe room. It’s the one with the waterfall.” She shut the door before Misosazai could remind her that she’d only said maybe. Candy contained herself until the elevator doors shut, then quickly broke out the phone. “Hey, it’s me. Yeah. Shandora Ward. Get Det. Biggs to run it. I think we can rule out the billionaire-playgirl-superheroine scenario, but might as well be sure.” “No, still do it. We play every angle till there’s no angle left to go. Maybe mommy had an insurance policy. Oh! and you can tell Saki she can stop fretting over her Japanese studies- not gonna be useful here. ” “Nah, the dragon-mom story of hers is gonna be spot on. She can still run with that.” “Nope. No family. No ties.” “I got a pic, too. Think it’s near where we picked up Monique. Share it with her. Make sure I’m right.” “Oh, and you were right. She’s gotta be under 20. Guessin straight outta high school now.” “I know I was way off before, but you look in her eyes and you get the feeling she's been doing this merc stuff for decades. Besides, in my defense you know how orientals age. Saki’s 5 years older than me but put her in pigtails and she still rocks a convincing schoolgirl. She’ll probably be able to do that for another 10 years while we have to trade up gimmicks every 3.” “Makes me sick, too.” “Miso. Yeah, that’s a soup, right?” “Thought so. Well, if that angle plays out, we’ll have Miso and Saki- a lunchtime special!” “No. Unlikely. You should see her every time I hinted at our work. With that dragon mom, I’m bettin she never even had a boyfriend.” “Well, that was Saki. This one… I think a guy makes a move like that, she’d break him in half. Like I said, unlikely.” "Most likely angle, then? Probably scraping the carcass of everything we can. The girls on self-destruct, I think.” “No, don’t’ go all ‘wounded puppy’ on me. We ain’t fixin her and we aint’ keepin her. We're not investing in her like we did with Tina. ” “No, I don’t feel bad for her. Look, if she wants to give up and die, she can go at it. I'm not gonna feel bad about squeezing the most out of her life before that? She’s just wastin it. If I'm wrong and it goes another angle, we'll still be more ahead betting on that.

St. Martial A Few Days Later Misosazai, Isabel the Knife, and Candy "So, you're sure of this?" Stranger things had crossed Isabel the Knife in her years, but this development was unexpected. "Yup, Desiree and Mercedes tracked sightings over the past 2 days. She hasn't taken a client- or even tried. Just been hanging around the abandoned lab and picking fights with anyone that even looks at her funny. Then she gets something on her phone, runs across town, and wipes out a warrior stronghold- ALONE- coming out with Decibelle." "A stronghold seems a bit much here, RIP found, what? A dozen of them? At least we know our initial assessment was off- we don't have an encroacher or possible recruit- we have an undercover cape." "Yeah, funny thing is that she only stuck with Decibelle till she was within sight of Vanguard. Mercedes said it was if she was hiding from them." "A solo'er, maybe with her own issues with the law. Interesting. Has there been any other contact made?" "No- well besides with the bottom of her boot." Candice grinned, quite proud of her joke. "She's running round town looking for something, hits the lab to check email, then repeats. Barely eats- girl's gotta be starvin." "She's looking for the other warrior outposts then. I've heard that others have looking as well. I'm pretty sure at least one more has been found, but they're taking a more cautious approach. Henchco." Isabel handed her smartphone to Candice, with the screen showing. "I think its time I send Dear Dr Brayne a present." "And what about the carnie tramp?" "The whatnow?" "That's what the girls call her. The cape. Can't be good for business, having one of those running round." "Same thing we always do- profit." Isabel was busy scrawling a note. "First, you're going to get me some take out from Mr. Chen. Bourbon chicken and pepper steak. Then you're going to get some flowers and take this note to Dr. Brayne's assistant. The guy can have his head in the clouds with all the sciency-stuff, but his assistant is sharp. She'll understand the message. After that, bring Tina's grey costume to the lab. The chamelion one." "The one with..." "Only call them 'special enhancements' around the girl... let's not call her carnie tramp." "Gotchya." Candy read the note. "Whats the BBB contract?" "Benefits, Bribery, and Blackmail. It 'keeps gifted individuals on retainer to reward employees, entertain prospective clients and foreign officials, and take pictures to assure a long-standing and reliable business relationship.' Pretty standard fare. All the big corps have them. HenchCo, Crey, Cage, Major Flanders Fried Chicken..." "Isn't it a little presumptuous to think you can get her on board with this." "My dear, if heroes are anything, they're predictable- and far too trusting." -------------------------------------------------- (A few hours later) So, what's in this for you, again?" "Look, kid, I'm trying to build trust here. That's all. " Isabeleyed the untouched take-out tray and cola in front of the girl with irritation. It just sat getting cold on the desk in the abandoned lab. she'd even set a napkin down to cover the stains. At first the girl's suspicious nature was endearing. She was obviously starving, but wouldn't touch the peace-offering in case it'd been laced with something. Maybe this city wouldn't chew her up in a few days, like it did most, but given her ragged look, she should really start taking care of herself. "What if I eat a piece first?" she offered, reaching for the food. "You might know which pieces are safe." "You pick." "Maybe you already took the antidote." "Maybe give me a break? I'm not some monster! Look, I know that you helped Decibelle get out. I support that. Some of us here don't like the idea of tying up someone, beatin them senseless and selling them off- not without a safeword at least. That's all this is." "What's in it for you?" "Nothing." "Nothing's ever free. There's always a hook." "Well, then you can owe me." "I don't like owing people. What do you want out of this?" Just on time, Candice arrived with the package. Isabel gestured for her to put it down next to the food. "Allright. Allright. Here's the deal. HenchCo's ... a good friend to have. They're running this op, and you're the only one with direct experience in this thing right now. That'll make you very useful for them. You want to free heroes. They want to free heroes. I put the two of you together, you both get what you want, maybe owe me a favor. Unlike you- me and Dr. Brayne understand that favors are a currency that professionals can trade in. Maybe you'll learn that. "An IOU like that from Brane is worth sharing some food- plus you can borrow some tactical gear I got from Lovely Linda to really look the part." The girl was already rummaging through the bag. She pulled out the neutral-grey bodysuit- slim and defining, but still practical and offering some protection. It shimmered in her hands. "Stealth suit. Full chamelion mode. Same stuff that longbow's spec ops and the knives use. Top notch. Yours for this op, if you go." "Yeah, plus Linda says it has all our special enhancements, too!" Candy piped in with pride. Isabel froze. "Our... no. That wasn't the deal. That..." She yanked the tactical wear out of Misosazai's hands, grabbed the soda and poured a drop onto a seam. It foamed. "Goddamn, it! Breakaway thread! Really? NOW?" She shoved everything back in the satchel and practically threw it at Candy, who was stammering, "I... I didn't know." "Shut up. Just..." Isabel turned to Misosazai, visibly shaken, "Shit, there's no time.... Look. I just wanted to have an edge on Brayne. Kinda a survival skill. I... I don't want to mess this rescue up. Do the op with HenchCo, go save the cape. Do that. Don't punish the hero for my screwup, please. " She rummaged through her purse. "I've got $30, go buy yourself a lunch so you know it's safe, and if... if you do this, I'll... make it right for you. I'll owe ya. Heck... I got a safehouse- a room at the Pot o Gold near the service elevator. Warm bed, hot bath, room service, and I'll send over a bunch o stuff in your size to pick from. Just show them this card. I'll... I'll work this all out, even if the favor is worth less than the cost." She shoved the cash and the card into Misosazai's hands. The girl's suspicious gaze had melted into understanding... even trusting. "Just.. save the cape, ok?" Misosazai nodded, pocketed the cash, gathered her stuff and ran off. Isabel leaned on the desk, watching to be sure she was gone. Candice dropped the satchel and started munching on the food. "Candy, dear, make sure you fix that soda spot as soon as you get back. Marly need it for her 4am." "Yup. On it," she mumbled through mouthfuls of food. "So, uh... you're out, what? $30, this $5 grub, and the room you already got for free, right? That's your safehouse, right?" "Along with anything of Tina's old stuff that she wants. Yes." Isabel decided she better help herself to the food while it lasted. "And you're getting HenchCo's standard merc rate?" Isabel smiled. "So I figure the only way you come out losing on this favor is if HenchCo misses a couple o zeros on the cheque." Isabel kicked back and relaxed. "A lesson for you on being a broker, Candice: never charge a penny less than the market will pay, and never pay a penny more than the seller thinks its worth. You get to keep everything between the two, and sometimes, those margins are extraordinary." "And if Dr. Brayne spills the beans?" "Darlin, you know first rule of our business is you NEVER talk compension during the act. Same goes for mercenaries."

St. Martial. A Few Hours Later Misosazai Misosazai cursed as she assessed her current circumstances. Although most people wouldn’t consider it lucky to wash up on an abandoned beach, exhausted, and borderline hypothermic, with no ID, cash, phone, dressed in what was debatably more covering than a swimsuit, it *was* a step up from what put her in the sea to begin with. In a similar way, although most people wouldn’t find being surrounded by acrid smoke and still-burning rubble, it did provide much MUCH needed heat just when she needed it. And if there was any need for further proof that her luck was on the upswing, it came when she turned a corner just a block away from coming ashore and encountered a strange sense of deja-vu. Right ahead of her was one of the pictures from the online data analysis. Even the nemesis tunneller was still there. She could have been standing in the exact spot the picture was taken. SCORE! This was it. This was where all her effort paid off. This was… … Her phone was with her other gear at the bottom of the sea. She felt like her luck took a turn for the worst. Not much had really changed- she still had no phone, no ID, no cash, and was dressed in an outfit that would make a hooker blush, but the full impact of that reality was becoming all too clear, and the bad luck just kept coming. A rogue wave from the ocean broke against the pier, spraying her with a freezing mist. “F**K!” she shouted, only to hear movement behind her. “Hey, girlie. If you’re offerin…” Three freakshow approached fast with very little interest in what her response would be. “Any of you have a phone I can borrow?” she asked while clearing a wet tress off her face. As soon as the confused reaction registered on their faces, she lept into them. A knee to his throat took the first one out of commission, with the other two were quickly felled by a Dragon’s tail and and basic finishers before they ever got up. A search of their pockets resulted in a handful of poker chips. No phone. No wallets. “… and no shirts.” She muttered to her writhing audience. “Seriously, guys, you’ve got to be freezing. Shirts. Jackets. They keep you warm, could keep ME warm, and most importantly…” she added as she slipped the poker chips down her brassiere, “they have pockets! Oh, that one’s real metal. Cold.” “You guys are lucky. I’m about three goosebumps short of turning your pants into a shawl.” Her next encounter- blue ink men. No phone. No wallets. “And again, no shirts. Come on people. I’m stretching out the seams here. One lucky hit by the next baddie and …jackpot… I guess.” It took her another two encounters- Tsoo and Wailers before she encountered someone who wasn’t as topless as she’d be if she kept weighing down the carnie’s brassier: A tommy-gun wielding Family man talking on a cellphone. She didn’t even wait for him to do anything hostile. One moment he’s chatting with “mahm” on the phone and the next he had a purple stiletto setting his voice to Soprano as his gun flew in one direction and his phone flew in the other. The latter landed with a crash that made it clear that it wouldn’t be salvageable. “Go****mn it!” they said in unison- though his voice was far higher than hers. “Wha? Ya wanted my phone? Ya coulda just asked, y’know?” the button man let out, as he half-collapsed into a seated position on the curb. “And you would’ve given it to me?” “Well, we coulda worked something out” he said with eyes clearly set on her chest. She crossed her arms, triggering a sound of jostling plastic and metal. “Right. Your wallet and your coat. Now. “ He hesitated for a moment, butcomplied. She slipped on the suit jacket first- she had priorities- then tossed the wallet back after relieving it of what little cash he had- probably under $20 American. She grabbed a handful of chips out of hiding and handed them to the mafioso. “These have value to you?” “Sorta. Probably,” was the answer, but his eyes suggested he might have come out ahead on this deal. She tossed a few more for good measure. “Buy something for your ma for me. Don’t go near the gun till I’m gone, and don’t come after me.” “Yeah, kid, whatever.” She was starting to like the wiseguy’s matter-of-fact attitude about the whole thing, like this was an everyday occurrence, so just as she was about to run off, she threw one more line, just to see how helpful he'd be. “Any chance you know a place that’ll trade more chips for a burner?” “Yeah, right here.” She stopped. Sure enough, he fished a cheap plastic smartphone from his front pocket. “Fresh as of this morning.” “Always frisk ‘em.” He gloated. “Ya never know what fun stuff they got hidden away. Got a piece here too, but maybe since I didn’t pull it on ya, you don’t knock the boys into next Tuesday again, OK? Simple trade- the phone for your chips.” He placed the phone on the ground in front of him. “I’ll even let you keep the coat. Looks good on you.” She nodded, realizing that the chips had a lot more value than she’d thought, but emptied her pockets and honored the trade. “Wait, there’s like 5 minutes and no data on here!” He shrugged. “That’s a burner, girl. If the call lasts more than 5 minutes, you’re doing it wrong. If you’re looking for data, though… there’s an abandoned lab in Black Mariah with some open wifi. It’ll connect there. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get my gun before some gutter trash walks off with it. Be seein ya.” -- ((From there, it took a bit of backtracking to get pics of the site, then find the lab, but Misosazai finally got ahold of the mysterious Goldberg group. Now, she needed to wait for a reply.)) ((For those wondering on Misosazai's current "look", she isn't winning any costume contests.)

Off The Coast of St. Martial Several days Later Misosazai *It's no use. I can't focus.* The last few days of fighting had taken their toll on Misosazai. Although the traditions passed down did help recover faster, some things just needed time to recover. Her left arm wouldn’t stop aching- a side-effect of using it too much to shield the bruised ribs on that side. Each exhale hurt a little less during meditation, but the pain always came back. Now, she couldn’t even get comfortable in the lotus, although that may have more to do with the floor rocking and the ridiculous getup she was wearing. There wasn't anyone awake to see her, but she still hitched the skirt down a bit more, even though it would just ride back up in this position. The problem with meditation is it leaves the mind time for introspection, so she finally had to admit that she'd been running on a death wish. She still was, if she was being honest with herself, but the means had evolved. At the start, it had been merely a “fight the good fight until you drop” battle frenzy. No plan beyond the current battle, no thought beyond the next move. It was pretty good as far as death wish tactics were concerned, but she just kept winning- and every moment when she could have accepted death and taken a loss there was always something else at stake- something she had to deny her foe, so she never took the exit. Now it was the hero kidnappings. She’d fought the warriors and won, but others hadn’t, and now they were being held to be auctioned off. It wasn’t right- leaving them to that fate. It’s what the Hellions did with Ryk in the sewers, leaving him and the crew to rot there. It’s what she did when her mom told her to run and never look back. *I’m looking back now, mom. I… I can’t stop looking back.” She shouldn’t have run. She should have died right there at her mom's side. She should have gone with Ryk on his “big score” and died with him. She didn’t. But freeing a hero from the warriors- not leaving them abandoned- fighting to save them… maybe that’d be a good surrogate. The horizon- once just a faint neon glow- was taking shape. The cityscape of St. Martial, the casino isle. The last batch of leaked coordinates painted a path to the Rogue Isles, so that’s where she’s was heading. It wasn't the easiest place for a broke 17-year old to access, but much easier for the upper class. Rich debutantes with access to daddy's yacht, charge cards, and a far-too-public social media account would run all-weekend parties there and back- easy targets for both her and the Carnival of Shadows. It worked out almost perfectly. Not only was the crowd big enough that nobody could know everybody on the boat, but the Carnival of Shadows' propensity for masks made it even easier to infiltrate. *I just wish the rest of their gear was as concealing as the mask.* She adjusted the “skirt” downward once more, then finally gave up and just stood, stretching and reaching to the stars. She couldn't hold the position. The rocking sea, her numb leg, a slick deck, and the iconic carnie high-heels made keeping her footing a challenge. In a half hour they’d dock and she could break away from the drunken and drugged-out partygoers, retrieve her stuff, and get into something more functional. *I did it! I infiltrated the Carnival and made it to St Martial!* She reveled in the victory. She'd donned disguises before, but mostly just gang colors or pretending to be a suited-up crey intern. Not like this. This was big time. *Thank goodness that the rumors of telepaths were overblown.* *Oh, I wouldn’t say that.* a bemused voice said in her head. *This was just too fun to stop. All the sneaking and maneuvering and steamy near-misses- all the times you thought you’d avoided being exposed, all the mulling and brooding and futile attempts to shield your thoughts. I haven't laughed this hard in years.* Two hulking brutes suddenly and silently appeared at each shoulder but something was wrong- the cool sea breeze still cut through her as before. Right through them. *Mind games* she thought, and they disappeared just as fast. *Very good! Ok, I must be honest- all that brooding was a bit boring- but a little sour can make the sweet even sweeter. You can really appreciate drunken debauchery at a new level after a good lick of self-loathing. You should try it, sometime. Might need a heck of a party to offset all your baggage, but it’ll be soooo worth it. Trust me.* A semi-transparent female form leaned against the rail beside her. Her attire, like Misosazai's, didn't leave much to the imagination. *Oh, and leaving Cassie trussed up like that when you took her clothes!* It laughed. *She has such a fun and unexpected adventure to share now. It really was a treat. I’d be remiss in my duties as a hostess if I didn’t return the favor in some minor way. *So here’s the deal: Brad threw your stash overboard a few hours back. Most of it belonged on the seafloor anyway. You didn’t sound too attached to Cassie’s wardrobe just now, but given your lack of alternatives I’ll give you a choice: hop overboard now and you can keep it, or stick around for the cruse’s finale bash and you can gather whatever's wearable off the deck afterward.* *Your choice.* She didn't wait. Jumping away from threats like this was becoming a habit. The smack of cold ocean struck her before the final words even finished. It wasn’t impossibly far to shore- possible with a little pacing. She struggled a bit at the start- it'd be easier if she lost the boots, but she’d need them when she hit land. Fortunately, there wasn’t much else to weigh her down. *See? Such a versatile ensemble. As light as a swimsuit!.... Oh! just but be sure to dry off thoroughly once you get out. That material's practically sheer when wet!"* the voice in her head taunted, prompting Misosazai to swim faster- she'd start pacing herself after she was beyond the psychic’s reach. *And so much better than that hero stuff. Heck, if you'd been wearing ballistic armor or a cape, you'd be halfway to the seafloor!* Misosazai ignored her and kept moving. Yeah, ballistic weave sounded nice, but wearing a cape was never in the cards for her.

I personally disagree with the whole concept that continuity is essential for roleplay, to be honest. There's plenty of real-life scenarios where people roleplay for limited times, in limited situations, with no expectations of contunity- in play, in therapy, and in training. They're all by definition and context role-playing. There can be an element of continuity, yes, particularly in gaming, but even that's not certain. Some of my best Roleplaying sessions have been with the GM providing the characters that we'd role play that evening, along with the setting. Don't get me wrong- continuity is a critical part of the collaborative narrative that unfolds during roleplaying, but there are varying degrees to what you accept and how you accept it, particularly when you're on a constantly-shifting online community with many types of people coming and going. You're going to have encounters in-game that are "role playing" that neither fit your character concept, your style, your view of the world, or a path you're seeking to explore. Out of courtesy, you may play it out with the people you encountered, rather than abruptly extract yourself from the scenario, and simply personally retcon it away like it never happened. That keeps your character's narrative intact and ready for the story you do want to play out. Tabby, as I mentioned, will always be near-broke, but I frequently run into characters that are mega-billionaires that see nothing with dropping a few hundred million on the less fortunate heroes they encounter. They do so in a way that doesn't give much room to refuse it, and argue in OOC that this is just how their character is, so I should take it. I no longer waste my time arguing. I let it last for the duration of that roleplay session, then pretend it never happened. I don't come up with excuses for the lost money. I used to- often to the point of being comical but that alone changed the narrative. Tabby's not irresponsible with cash, she just doesn't have it, and I don't want others to come and unilaterally take that away because they decided to play someone with too many zeroes in their bank account. If he was expecting a RP5 level of continuity, my daddy warbucks may be offended he doesn't encounter someone whose life has been transformed by their act of forced generosity when we next meet, but I'm fine with that. I know to downplay that aspect around them, and they learn to STFU about it if they want additional RP encounters. It doesn't even have to be a negative experience, but just a conflict in narrative. Take time- I've had RP stories that were intended to have spanned weeks/months in-game but they occur in-between two RP stories that occur just a day apart. I don't let the nature of online availability (or the lack thereof) affect the two stories. I weave them together (or exclude one from the other) as I see fit. It's clean, it only matters to me, for the most part, and it keeps things moving. I'd characterize that around an RP3, though, because if I was involved in something like an RP5, the odds of my weaving of things coming into conflict with other peoples' weaving of things goes up the more reference history and try to tie everything together. I'd guess in a RP5-level encounter, I would have had to start my nexe encounter with the next-day'er as an apology for not meeting them as planned, letting weeks transpire as I tell everything that transpired in their absence.

I've found that in my own (limited) RP, where I fit within the narrative-driven scale is dependent on who I'm RP'ing with. If I'm RP'ing with a supergroup, then I'd quickly lean to RP5 (at least in the context of that supergroup). We're doing collaborative storytelling on a broad scale and unless we collectively agreed on some retcons, I'd expect that the story that unfolds would be reflected in all participants' individual stories. (The community story arc is similarly very RP5 to me in that way) If I'm RP'ing from a walk-by or a random encounter, I'm less likely to expect anything that's lasting beyond a "not having to give introductions again." I do try to build off those encounters if they happen again, but there's a reasonable limit given neither of us know how many such encounters the other's had in the interim Part of that is just the practical-- Unlike a supergroup, where the characters are more closely associated with one, the guy on the street and I are going to be going separate ways, with different experiences and even different timelines It may just be my next play session, so the previous encounter may feel just moments away, but that character could have dinged 30 times since then, been in and out of various supergroups, been shot, maimed, rehabilitated, and cybernetically enhanced all since we last met. It's also sometimes necessary to reset from an encounter where another player took you too far out of the narrative you wanted for your character. Tabby's perpetually-broke financial status has been remedied by trillionaire heroes sharing their limitless resources so often that I've run out of ways to creatively wipe out / decline those funds. I just do a hard reset on whether that part of the character narrative ever happened. I want her to be a financially-struggling college student. That brings up another aspect of this- thematic characters. I may not be interested in playing out a character's life story or evolving them past a point where I I have interest- I may just be interested in providing a compelling character to enhance your story and experiences, and once your encounter is done, I may just want to reset that character and play the scenario out in combination with someone else. I'd always been more of a GM than a player, so I do have a stable of concept characters that I don't WANT to move past that point of development.

I think the idea with the OP is more about what happens when you log back in later: Is your character taking that encounter and building off of it, referencing it in the future, and kinda keeping continuity (RP5 ) or is it more of a one-off, fun encounter, not intended to have any lasting impact or any potential change to your character, should you ever encounter them again (RP1).

Atlas Park, City Hall A few days later. Tabitha “Treatment was mainly confined to mandatory counseling…” Tabby had finished reading over Psychlone’s file, but that part really struck her. When Tabitha got into trouble, she was sponsored into one of the most prestigious all-girl “reform schools” on the continent, she got personalized counseling from one of the top psychologists in transformation trauma. She was… well, she was TRASH before the change, but they treated her like something special, even if she didn’t appreciate it at the time. It was 4 years of her life, but it could’ve been so much worse. Psychlone got the “much worse”- sure she’d injured and even killed several people who had been trying to help her, but she’d been experimented on, enhanced, and mistreated for so long before that. Could she really be held responsible? And putting a telepath in the zig- the big concrete box of criminally insane- for “mandatory counseling sessions”? They were never going to let her out. She was being warehoused away and forgotten. A 20 year old girl victimized by others and then neglected by the system for the rest of her life. The ridge of fur pulsed up and down along her back, something that didn’t go unnoticed by her caseworker. “Look, I don’t like it either, but this wasn’t a decision made by just one person- there are teams involved in sentencing and treatment.” Miriam had to almost put her chin onto her desk to make eye contact with Tabby, who seemed to be trying to burn the report with laser-eye focus. “It’s the part of this job I hate the most. We don’t have an unlimited budget. Sometimes… sometimes you must cut your losses, let the impossible cases go and conserve your resources on people you CAN help, like you, Tabitha.” “Frankly, some of the team is getting a little worried. I know I wasn’t here to give you proper 1:1 time, but lately- the days without contact…” “…my phone was bricked… and the other phone bugged!” “… the unapproved travel…” “… I… I FOUND THE LOCATION OF THE WARRIOR FOOTAGE. I’M TRYING TO HELP SAVE CAPTURED HEROES!” “the... questionable choices for dining partners…” “… I negotiated the release of three hostages.” “and you let her walk away. Look, you’ve been a model turnaround before this. We might still be able to advocate for early graduation from the program, but you need to avoid this kind of transgression. Okay?” Miriam smiled and contorted herself further in her futile effort to make eye contact, but Tabitha avoided contact. The fact that they pulled Miriam off maternity leave to personally take this meeting should have telegraphed that she was in trouble. The two of them played a short game of catching or dodging each others’ gaze before Miriam had enough. “So, John has something that’s right up your alley. Detective Murwell asked for you personally- something fishy down near Paragon Yacht Club. Do you…” “I’m investigating the Warriors and the missing heroes.” “I know, and the everyone appreciates the intel you brought in. We got it to the right hands, and they’re moving on it as we speak.” “I want in on it.” “We have the right people working that angle, Tabitha.” “I could be the right people.” “You’re the right person for the yacht club investigation, Tabitha. Leave the captured heroes to the professionals.” “We have KIDNAPPED HEROES and the DAGGER OF JOCAS in the wild and you’d have me chasing a boat club’s problems?!” “Tabitha, honey. It’s great that you care. It really is, and there will be a time for that someday, but those are high-stakes cutthroat operations. It’s not safe.” “I’ve been fighting warriors! Freakshow! Carnies! … NEMESIS! It hasn’t been safe for a long time. I’m ready for this.” “Right now, you’re ready for what we tell you you’re ready for. Your community service credits apply to the assignments given to you by a city representative. You need to focus on those, you need to stick to the terms of your release, and… Tabitha,” she leaned in close to emphasize every word, “you need to be mindful of the company you’re keeping.” “I’ll be mindful.” *starting right now.* She thought bitterly as she got up to leave. *I’m going to help rescue those heroes. I’m going to help recover the Dagger of Jocas, and I’m going to make them regret treating Psychlone as a lost cause. I don't care if they don't count as community service hours*. Then in a burst of inspiration she thought *The Vindicators and Phalanx count as city reps! Swan's validated my hours before, and she and Manticore are so busy right now, I bet they’ll sign anything I put in front of them.* She stormed off, only pausing for a moment when Miriam called after her, still smiling, still trying to connect with her. “Don’t forget, Tabitha- it’s donuts day! Lunchroom, 15 minutes. You can have mine too, no need to wait until seconds are called. I’m trying to work off the baby weight…” “Thanks, …but I’ve lost my appetite.”

Leiyu In-Game Bio Not much is known about the heroine Leiyu except for the contradictions. She battles the Tsoo, but emulates many of their traditions. She exhibits merciless rage one moment, and soft compassion a moment later. She often enters battle with a thunderous explosion, but rarely speaks. The most likely phrase you'll ever hear from her is a raspy whisper that's both a command and a warning, "Stay away." RP Hooks - Those with mage sight can detect the presence of a powerful artifact worn as a necklace. They may also detect signs of spirit possession. - PPD intel is torn on whether her "tsoo" focus is heroically-driven or possibly internal power struggle. - Those that do get her to speak more will catch a elements of an accent but not from anything asian. (If they're really good, its Scouse- she's from the Liverpool area)

Aoki writhed in the ground in agony as the lightning coursed over him, the smell of scorched flesh and shit surrounded him. Lynne felt little sympathy for the Copper Serpent master- how many had suffered from the toxins in his barbs? How long had he stalked and threatened her? As she hovered over him now like a vengeful god meting out justice, ready to launch another storm blast into him, he was almost pitiable. Almost. Tonight the tormenter dies. It came to her as naturally as breathing now- she drew deep into the wellspring of power that hung around her neck, let it flow into her heart to her shoulders, and down her arms- an electric charge that would stop the heart of anyone not shielded from it. She aimed. Then she saw the old lady standing in the doorway of her shop, watching her. All thought of murder disappeared. She glided to the old woman, her feet never touching the ground. “You.” Lynne's hand gravitated to the necklace under her dress. She kept enough presence of mind to keep her voice low and carefully choose her words, lest her accent show through. “You’re the one that gave me...” “… your name.” the old woman interrupted, looking around the alley before gesturing her inside. “Yes. The reporters wanted a name for you.. Leiyu. Thunderstorm, in my homeland, though they lost something in the translation.” She gestured her inside. “Come. The police will be here soon. They’ll take care of Aoki.” She didn’t think to ask how the old lady knew his name- or her- or why the raging thing that drove her to hunt members of the Tsoo every night was suddenly silent. This was the woman who gave the necklace to her. The shop was just as she’d expected- crowded and jumbled with both ancient and modern. Part apothecary, part curio, part used electronics with some bicycles hanging from a side aisle. The back wall was filled with faded photos, each in its own hand-carved frame that appeared more timeless than they were. The old lady scanned over the wall before pulling one down and studying it. “You look so much like her. My Leiyu.” It had once been a black-and-white picture, but the black had long ago faded to brown, and then to rust, like blood on a bandage. Soldiers- uniforms suggested Japanese, second world war era. Probably mainland occupation forces. They scrambled- both running to and running from a lady in a conical rice hat and cheongsam, not unlike her own attire. Although an untrained eye would mistake the white extending from her as parts lost to age and wear, she knew that was the blinding glow of electricity coursing off her as she hovered in the air. “He still demands tradition, I see.” The old woman muttered, gesturing at Lynne’s garb. Neither needed elaboration on who “he” was. She forced a smile. “I did my best to convince him of the benefits of Kevlar and tactical garb, but he’d melt or fry anything but silk. Doesn’t really protect much. I was lucky enough to win the argument for the mask and wig.” The old lady had slipped into the back of the shop. Part of her wanted to take the necklace off and leave it there. Just pretend that the past few weeks never happened, but another part of her knew that the only way out of her situation was through the power this artifact provided, and she’d cling to it to her last breath to keep that hope alive. “Why give this to me?” The words came out before she’d even thought them. The old lady reappeared, this time holding a sun-bleached plastic milk crate full pictures, both old and very new. She browsed through, grabbed a few and passed them over. It took a moment for Lynne to recognize her father and uncle at various ages. Another with her grandmother. “When a family has lost its way- lost its honor- it looks to their elders for guidance, but the elders look to the young for action.” A few months ago, Lynne might have scoffed at such sayings. Family- at least in the sense of a traditional Chinese extended family and lineage- was alien to her. On her father’s death, her mother had taken their two girls out of Chinatown and into one of Liverpool’s suburbs, hoping to escape the underworld that claimed his life. She’d been raised with little exposure- even active disdain for the tradition and culture that the crime syndicates embraced. Even the spelling of her name changed to distance herself from her heritage. That was before her uncle came with the proverbial “offer she couldn’t refuse” during the last undergraduate year. He wasn’t just in the crime syndicate- he embodied it- rising to power and building alliances with Tub Ci- folding local syndicates into the Tsoo’s international operations. Syndicates have long built alliances in the same way the great houses did centuries before- through the exchange of hostages. Sure, they called them squires or wards or marriages of convenience- and in many ways those that were exchanged could flourish and grow to prominence in the foreign land, but it also served as insurance that everyone acted in good faith, lest they lose a loved one. Despite being an early and fervent supporter of Tub Ci’s unification wars, her uncle had no family to exchange, so as other groups sent their best and brightest to serve directly under Tub Ci and strengthen their bond, he became marginalized. It hadn’t been a particularly amicable reunion- her uncle didn’t even bother to try to convince her to participate willingly. He just gave her an ultimatum: serve as his exchange to Tub Ci, or he’d send her off with the other girls he trafficked to the states, make the same offer to her sister, and with no more family to tend to, he’d make sure her mother didn’t “outlive her purpose.” It wasn’t a hard decision. Now here she was, in the states illegally, assailed by tradition and hollow honor and toxic family ties, but also driven to persevere for the only family that mattered. “He’s always so angry.” She said, not quite sure who she was referring to- the spirit in the necklace, Tub Ci, or her uncle. “The patriarch spent a lifetime amassing the family’s fortune so they could govern and protect their people, only to see them become predators and abusers. He… he knows nothing but anger.” She’d seen that. For the first few weeks, it just seemed random- go out at night, find Tsoo agents, neutralize them. More recently, it wanted her to gather intel during the day that they could act on at night, dismantling or disrupting operations in a way that made it very difficult to keep her participation secret. She’d come to realize that the spirit cared very little about her own survival- if she wanted protection, she’d have to fight for that herself. “I dun tink” her accent came out heavy as she almost broke down. “I dun think I can change this. I can’t win. Not alone.” The old lady wouldn’t make eye contact, but just stared at the picture of her Leiyu, Her voice was troubled. Lynne got the distinct impression that the picture was the last time she ever saw her Leiyu alive. “Honor is won in the battle, not the outcome of the war.” She closed her eyes. Anger welled inside her- not HIS anger this time, but hers. Anger at being controlled, being betrayed, being trapped in an unwinnable war. Being expected to give up everything for what? For the goals of others. She was trapped in Tub Ci’s expectations that she learn to be a worthwhile member of his crime syndicate. She was trapped by an uncle that kept her family hostage unless she fulfill his need as liasian to the tsoo. Now she’s got the conflicting expectations of an overbearing “patriarch” spirit to fight his war. Any wrong move and she’d be dead, as would her mother and sister. When she opened he eyes the old lady was gone. The shop was gone. She was in an empty storefront with windows so grimy that she couldn’t see more than the flashers of PPD’s finest illuminating the dirt. She could feel the angry one returning, but knew his attention was still not on her. She shook her head. Had she hallucinated it all? Did her mind have some dissociative break to prevent her from killing Aoki? As probable as that sounded, she still held a photo in her hand- her grandmother holding her father when he was at most 6 years old. *Maybe… maybe there’s more to this than one vengeful spirit.* *Maybe I’m not as alone as I thought.* She took the back exit and drifted into the night, searching for another target. The angry one was watching again. More Tsoo would feel the wrath of Leiyu tonight.

Salamanca Day after Brickstown Tabitha (regarding Psychlone) "Hi, It’s me." "Yeah, sorry, I’m on a payphone." "Well, because my phone’s bricked and when I tried to buy another the credit card company flagged two phones in 24 hrs as suspicious, so they tried calling my number to verify, but MY FRIGGIN PHONE IS BRICKED." "Yes, I know availability of contact is a term of my release. Workin on that." "Yes, I know that the budget counseling didn’t have… well, ANY room for charge card payments. Workin on that too." "Salamanca." "Yes, I know I’m supposed to alert you if I’m planning to travel out of city limits. I had reasons." "So you know about that?" "Yeah. I need all the info you have on her." "I don’t care. I’d consider this need-to-know." "NO- don’t say “stop.” No- DO NOT SAY THAT." "First, that’s totally unfair- how many times did Statesman face off against Lord Recluse, and did anyone ever criticize HIM for not bringing Recluse in?" "Really? Man, that IS rough. Anyway Second, she’s been in my mind. She knows stuff and can do stuff. If she detects even the slightest hint of betrayal, and I’ll wake up finding I just spent the last 6 months singing karaoke in a furry-themed hostess club halfway around the world." "Well, she might’ve read my darkest fears." "Is it really up to you to judge what should and shouldn't be in my darkest fears?" "It’s up there." "I don’t really KNOW what she had access to. I’m not taking any chances." "That’s why I’m in Salamanca. I took the rail to the farthest destination before even THINKING this. " "HELP her. Just use that. (mutters to herself) helphelphelphelp. No, that’s not her mind manipulation, I just need to write over those thoughts. " "Look, she’s obviously messed up, but who isn’t? I was a victim of my powers too- not to the same extent, but I totally made a mess of things, too. People HELPED me. YOU helped me." "Maybe putting an impressionable MIND READER in a prison for the CRIMINALLY INSANE wasn’t the best way to help." "I dunno- I’ve NEVER READ HER FILE!" "Look, I just need to know what she’s done, how she was caught, and what her treatment was in the zig. I need to know how to… work with her." "Y’know, it might not be all-bad- having a telepath looking for the dagger of jocas could have its benefits." "I didn’t tell her!" "I don’t think she HAS a plan for it. I get the impression that she picks up on things around her sometimes. With everyone fretting over it, it’s on a lot of minds." "IF she gets it- I dunno, maybe we surround her with bunches of people that want to retire to an isolated island getaway… or want a milkshake… or something, and then when that sinks in we just offer to trade?" "It might work..." "Well, it’s not like possessing the dagger will amplify her powers or anything… Will it? I kinda skimmed the book. " "Ok, work on getting me that stuff. Don’t mail me. I probably need to change all my passwords. I’ll be in touch." "Oh, and is there any chance you can validate my PTA ticket to Salamanca as official business so I can get reimbursed?" "How about if I go punch someone while I’m here?" "Great." "Could you… could you sign me up for the next job fair? I think I’m gonna need to pick up some side work." "Thanks." "Bye." -------------------------------------------- On the rail back from Salamanca, Tabby had a terrible idea. A worse-than-terrible-idea. The kind of idea that only a catgirl would consider a good idea. According to her unnamed contact, her old phone was bugged, probably by Longbow, which means they think she knows something. Also according to that contact, at least one of her potential contacts is out-of-commission. She didn’t know if they were STILL tracking the phone, but bet they were. She still had a few potential contacts in Vanguard- Her short time at the Vanguard base didn’t leave her with the best impression of the organization. Neither group seemed likely to be very open or truthful with her, and even if the Vanguard contact did want to impress her, guys lie all the time to impress girls. ...If only she could stage a meet-up with her Vanguard contact- that’d probably draw any Longbow tails into following her. ...And if only she knew a telepath that could hide nearby, detect them, and pry for the truth. Those were big if’s, but she had very little else to go on. She plugged in and powered up the compromised phone, then logged in to yet another Naughty Neko account. None of the posts Misosazai had taken of her totally dominating the Warriors had a single upvote. Except one- an obviously-altered-in-an-unflattering-way pic taken right before she landed a double-palm shot to a slasher’s groin. *oh, look! it's animated. God, I hate these guys* She flipped back to the shots of her in the Vanguard base. There were 3 of them, so she took the person with the most active login date and sent a tell. Tabby stewed on that. The last thing she wanted to do was give these assholes more material, but she really needed someone inside Vanguard to get the full story on this rogue faction. Maybe he was even IN the rogue faction, which would be awesome, so she needed to be careful. Finally, she went to the bathroom mirror, held out her hand in classic middle-finger-salute, snapped a closely-cropped picture of just that hand, and hit “send.” A few minutes later he replied with a pic of an appendage of his own- not the same as she had shared. *I should have seen THAT com… no, bad phrasing. I should have expected that. This was a mistake. I should just walk away, but I NEED a contact. What to do? Reject him, for sure, but is that swipe left or right. What if I get it wrong? No, not risking confusion there.* She texted back. She logged out and shut off the phone. *Now, I gotta just clear my mind before reaching out to Psychlone and getting her buy-in. Hope she hasn't gone TOO far.*

Brickstown Nighttime Tabby and Psychlone (Collaboration) Moving through the shadows of Brickstown used to be easier, but with the riots going on, most of the shadows seemed occupied by one seedy sort or another. Not long ago, that was driving Tabby to use the streets, but she was in a particularly sour mood now, so she relished in a chance to knock some of those shadow-dwellers into the light. With prejudice. Today she'd tapped out her monthly food stipend, went deeper in debt for a new phone, will now need to get ANOTHER new phone, and learned that her great solution for the dagger of Jocas ended up being a dead end. She SHOULD be really proud of how she looked when fighting the Warriors, but she got there too late to help the kidnapped heroes and couldn't find out ANYTHING to help rescue them. She was a failure . This was NOT going to be a good day. Landing on the rooftop of a warehouse, she saw two stunners crouched in the shadows watching a single PPD officer pass by, waiting to pounce. She slid down behind them, energized a blast to one's backside, then a series of strikes to the second. They never even had a chance to hit back. It didn't make her feel any better. Her belly grumbled. The all-night pizzeria should be right ahead. Normally she'd call for delivery, but no phone, till she could buy a new one. Normally she'd pay cash, but that was in short supply, and since she's gonna have to use the charge card again anyway for a friggin phone, getting some food seemed a rather trivial goal. Unfortunately, she couldn't call it in. She stuck to the shadows, hoping to find the place as empty as possible. It wasn't. Two PPD officers standing completely still, unfocused looks on their faces, while an employee, similarly blank, puts a few slices into a cardboard pizza box. Of course, of more immediate concern is the woman practically bouncing with excitment at her future meal. Pale, shaven-headed, a short, thin, slip of a thing...But wearing a hi-vis orange Zigursky jumpsuit, under what definjitely appears to be an unbuckled straitjacket. "Seriously, do you have any idea how long it's been since I had a pizza?" The cashier, naturally, doesn't respond, not that it stops the woman from continuing. "How long was I even in there...Time flies, I guess." It was pretty clear to Tabby that this wasn't just cops playing favorites and giving a captured prisoner a square meal before returning to the zig. Then again, she might be some high-security criminal chemotherapy kid getting a wish granted... hard to tell, but unlikely. Her first impulse was to duck back around the building and call for help, but that was thwarted by the bricked phone. Impulse #2 was to try to flag down one of the heroes helping with the riots, but she'd more likely draw attention from anyone still in the shadows. Impulse #3 was always the worst impulse. It was time to get involved. She fished an empty pizza box from the trash, brushed it off, then barrelled in to the door, trying to position herself between the hostages and the prisoner, ready to move at the first sign of hostility "I'd like to talk to the manager! My order's all wrong!" The woman turned around, eyebrows raised. "Hello, who're you?" Granted, it didn't sound hostile, just curious. More alarming was the fact that the woman's mouth hadn't moved at all, nor could Tabby be certain she was actually literally hearing it. Tabitha had a momentary mind-freeze as it sunk in... well, a prolonged mental Fuuuuuuu- a frickin telepath!---uuuuuk. After far too long of a pause where she looked at the girl, the cops, and the door, she decided she had to answer... or was that someone compelling her to answer... or was that just paranoia... or was it the telepath wanting her to think it's paranoia. "I'm an idiot. I mean Tabitha. Uh.... crazy night to be out isn't it?" "You're the Cat!" She suddenly broke into a grin, then continued, talking rapidly, the words spilling from her without thought or pause. "I saw you! Well, not saw you, saw you...I think one of the cops did though? He keeps throwing that out like it's on a loop, but they said it had something to do with that dagger, and I was all 'hey, I'm interested in the dagger' and now you're here, and you could just be a hallucination, that happens sometimes, or you're here to stop me from thinking." She paused, the silence almost deafening after the stream of babble. "You're not here to stop me from thinking, are you?" Tabitha's first thought was *no, actually, I'm just trying to get myself to think MORE* but figured someone might volunteer to help her, so she scratched that idea. "No, um... thinking is good. I usually encounter people that don't think enough, so it's kinda refreshing. I was just worried that these other people weren't being allowed to think either. It... um... " she tried to think of a nice way to speak on the girl's level, "it seems kinda mean to do that to others." She looked at the officers and the cashier. "I mean, workin retail's tough enough, don't you think?" At the same time, she eyed the door again. *I'm so gonna get my mind fried. so gonna get my mind fried. Please don't make me talk lolcat or anything. Dammit, stop thinking!* "Lolcat?" She tilted her head, like a dog who just heard an odd noise. "And I guess, I just wanted Pizza." She shrugged. "And the dagger. Can you tell me about the dagger? Please?" Tabby cringed at the repeat of lolcat. *Yup, she's in my mind. here comes making every r sound a purr and ending sentences with meow. My life is over.* "Um... ok, but why don't we get the pizza and sit down and maybe let the nice police and cashier... um... rest? Then I'll tell you all I know about the dagger." *which ought to take all of twenty seconds.* "I've been jonesing for pizza too." "I can do that." The trio of hostages suddenly dropped, falling to the floor. Did she just...No, Tabby could hear them snoring. The escapee slid up a chair...Without touching or even looking at it...And sat down. *Well, they won't be able to send reinforcements* Tabby thought as she grabbed the pizza box that the cashier had been filling and took it to the table nearest the chair, opening the box as if presenting a box of jewels for scrutiny. "Grab it fast. It's hard for me to not get hair in everything." "Yeah, fur gets everywhere. And people always stare and want to take pictures for some reason." ...Did she just... She apparently didn't see anything odd about her statement, just eating a slice while looking at the Hero. Tabby grabbed her own slice from the box- she'd pay later, maybe, but really, they should be thankful she's helping defuse the situation. "So, the dagger of Jocas? It's this really old really dangerous artifact that could... well, it could hurt some really powerful stuff, like one time it was used to trap away someone claiming to be a WORLD DESTROYER. That dangerous. It could also be used for good stuff, like magically fixing my fur problem... and tail problem, and you get the idea. Anyway, someone stole it, and then someone else pretended to steal a copy of it." She paused for a few bites, got sauce and cheese in her whiskers, but didn't seem to notice. "Exactly. I want it." The woman says, casually. "We could work together!" She perks up, then frowns. "...No, you want to stop me." "What? no! I... um... well, I want it too, but I dunno. What do you want it for? Maybe we could share? The important thing is to get it away from bad people." She thinks back to the odd comment about the pictures and tries to really sell this hard to herself, hoping it could in some way bleed over. "You want the dagger, I want the dagger- a LOT of people want the dagger. We're all gonna argue over the dagger... eventually... but the people that currently HAVE this dagger? They really shouldn't have it. We... We can agree on that, right? *pleasedon'tfrymybrain*. "Of course they shouldn't have it. I should have it." She said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Ok, well, THEY have it? And I can't even find them. Can you?" "I could..." She put her slice of pizza down. "But do you want to stop me from thinking? They did." She nodded at the unconscious cops. "A lot of guys are scared of women that think. Doesn't mean they can stop us." "I could keep an ear open. Eye open. Brain open. Might get back to you. You seem alright, even if your inner monologue is very rude." "Yeah, I'm constantly fighting with that thing. It's rude to me, too." she shrugged, then looked side to side. Look, the cops... they're not trying to make you stop thinking right now. You can let everyone here go." "Well right now they're asleep..." She moves to stand. "I don't have to erase anything do I? I really don't want to go back." "I... I get it. I was in placement for four years and that was a lot better than where you were. I have no idea what you did to get there, but I'm in no position to stop you. Just... remember, people are scared of women that think- doesn't make them bad, just creeps. Try not to give them something to justify their fears. " She sniggered. "You sound like the doc." Tabitha remembers back to Sister Agatha- her doc, "yeah, sounds like my doc, too sometimes." She wipes her hands on a paper napkin, then says. "Look, I'm kinda between phones, but I'm guessing you know how to get ahold of me, already, right?" "One second." There was an odd sensation, and frankly rather unpleasant. Like static feedback screaming through a speaker, a vibrato whining on the edge of hearing. Tabby got the distinct mental image of fingers raking through her mind and memories. Then all of a sudden, it stopped. "Now I can." "Well, umm... ok." She wasn't happy at all with the intrusion or the sensation, but since she'd already assumed that her mind was picked clean, she decided to take it as a win and let this end with a joke. "I don't know how far back you went there, but ignore that whole emo crap when I was 14. It was a phase." "Your what now?" "Perfect. Now how do I get ahold of you?" "Just think about me and I should pick it up if you're in range. I left a note in there, so I can tell the meat from the static." She tapped the side of her shorn skull. Tabby's eyes widen at the thought. *Ohboy, not only do I get to be paranoid of photos, but of accidentally broadcasting thoughts to an audience, now* "You don't need to worry about that. Probably. Not unless we're real close." Of course she picked that up. "Aaaaanyway. I'm gonna take this." She snatched the pizza box, holding it close, possessively. "You better head out. I'll make sure nobody takes advantage of our sleeping beauties." "Oh, it was Tabby, right?" She paused on the threshold of the door. "I prefer Tabitha, but everyone calls me Tabby, even my annoying inner dialogue. And your name is...?" She thought for a moment, a rather long moment, a confused look crossing her face, then. "Psychlone." With that, she left the restaurant, the civilians starting to stir almost immediately. Tabitha got up, stretched, and walked over to the cops, helping them regain their bearings. "Guess she got the drop on all of us, eh, guys? Hungry? That kinda thing takes a LOT out of you." and to the confused cashier she hands out her credit card., "Look, I got the pizza covered, but I can't cover any damages."

Talos Island Tabby Of course, Tabitha's phone buzzed at the least inopportune time- she hadn't had it long enough to figure out all the bells and whistles- like muting all the bells and I-hope-to-god-there-are-no-real whistles. She had just snuck into place with a particularly scarred up hewer who also heard the buzz and turned to face her while she was still mid-cast. What could she do? She smiled innocently, cut the energy-build-up early, and shoved right below the belt buckle. *Note to self: Almost as effective from the front as the behind. May need to re-evaluate retiring this move.* As the hewer crumpled and curled into a tight fetal position, she checked her phone. "Hold that pose, please, this might be important." "F**k! .... What? No NoNonononononononono" (fizzle), "Goddamn, this hero thing doesn't pay." She squatted down in front of the the warrior. "Lemme guess, You don't know anything about the selling off of kidnapped heroes. You don't know what part of your group arranges that stuff, and you've never been directly involved like the others, right?" He sqeaked something in the affirmative. "Ok, if I find out you lied, next time I'm not gonna use claws." Her belly grumbled loud enough for both of them to hear. He flinched. "This is going nowhere. Tell your friends that this is just the start. Until everyone's release and recovered, NOBODY sleeps safe." She turned away, frustrated. Nobody was talking about the kidnapped hero trade- well, beyond bragging that they'd captured some. They wanted to share the glory, but none of the intel. She was tired, hungry, and with her phone bricked, she was already suffering the early effects of internet withdrawl. Her whole plan to recover the Dagger of Jocas was an epic failure. She needed time to rethink- preferrably with some food- and without her phone to look things up for her, the only place she could think of was a pizza joint in Brickstown.

Talos Island After the events of "Whatever Happened to the Warrior" Misosazai and Tabby The strange turns in Misosazai’s life just kept getting stranger. How else could she explain leaving in a warrior warehouse with a catgirl and a hero-hunter carrying a bunch of maybe-magical knickknacks. A hero-hunter that apparently knew more about her mom than she did. She’d had a few days to recover from her last encounter with the warriors. Meditation and biofeedback only go so far- her ribs were still somewhat sensitive with dim green and purple bruising still fading away, but the shiner and split lip were nearly gone and a distant memory. Even the slice on her arm was crusting over slightly. *Mom knew her stuff, I guess* Before the events of the past few days, she hadn’t used the techniques for anything worse than a sprain or bruise, but things did seem to be progressing much faster than they normally would. Someone with an ounce of sense would have shied away from the Warriors after that rather than go hunting for a rematch. Martial combat had been part of her life since she’d been in diapers- something had been off with the way they fought and the results they got with them. I ate at her and she wanted to expose them as cheaters in some tournament. Magic artifacts or not- if you want to be the best, you don’t resort to gimmicks. Yeah, it sounded strange to be hunting them for “cheating” in street warfare, she had to admit, but no stranger than her partner in this raid. The catgirl- Tabby- just said she was trying to impress someone, and that someone held the warriors in high regard. She needed to be seen as better than them. Heck, she even asked M to stay out of a few fights just to take pictures of her besting them. *Some girls do crazy things to impress guys, I guess. Catgirls are no exception.* She had to admit, though, the furry knew her stuff- better at stealth than anything she’d ever done, and turning more than a few warriors to writhing piles of pain and profanity with a single well-placed strike. She was a bit taken aback when she realized that the potent technique wasn’t based on anything more than an inappropriate Japanese kids’ prank. *Cats do love to play with their prey… it probably goes double for catgirls. Not enough to beat them, she had to humiliate them. I just hope whoever she’s trying to impress is into freaky stuff, because she’s a special kind of weird.* Between her own showboat style of combat and the catgirls’ sneak attacks they had made short work of the warriors together, and that was even before they ran into Crimson Revenant. The Revenant had called her Kirasu. Her mother’s name. Said he’d thought rumors of her death were overblown. “Was wondering if I’d ever face with one of South America’s Five Knives. Two, if the rumors are accurate. What’s it been? Ten? Almost twenty years since you abandoned that fight?” After studying her a bit longer, he recognized her error, “No, you’re her whelp, aren’t you?” then paused with a strangely sincere “Condolences on your loss.” During the conversation Tabby had been maneuvering into position to send Crimson a very special present, but she’d waved her off. Crimson Revenant didn’t even turn to face her when he added, “Careful cat. I’ve tamed the Tigress, I’ll do more than that to you. Tabby seemed to ready with a retort, thought better of it, started again… stopped, and then moved to position herself against the next Warrior patrol. It was a strange trio but the three of them swept the warehouse clear, uncovering stolen valuables from the raid and a strange cache separate from the others. One of the warriors was kind enough to explain, enthusiastic, even, once Crimson Revenant suggested he could give the catgirl some pointers to make her sneak attack more potent using the warrior as a practice dummy. He’d much rather talk to keep the catgirl away from his backside: Odysseus had a new relic- some sort of Tarot card deck, and it was believed that the stuff in the reliquary may somehow power the deck further… or the deck would activate the relics… or something of that nature. It wasn’t entirely clear, except that keeping those things away from the deck would be in everyone’s best interest. He also shared that they’d captured some heroes during the battle and already sent many of them to be sold off. To Crimson Revenant, this seemed to be disturbingly matter-of-fact and he didn’t bother to stick around to discuss it further, leaving just Misosazai and Tabby. “I… I don’t even HAVE an medical teleporter to malfunction,” Misosazai nervously admitted. “I’m not registered.” The catgirl seemed genuinely concerned, “Ok, change in plans, rather than me take these relics to the midnighters- YOU haul it and your ass to city hall and give them to MAGI, then get your ass registered, kid.” Misosazai refused- she was too afraid of being wisked away by the system, out of the city and back into foster care. It was still possible that Ryk was out there. She wouldn’t give up on him, nor would she give up on the fight she found herself in now. After a few heated minutes, Tabitha gave up. “Fine, then take mine. I'll deliver the relics, report my teleporter broken, and get another one. Just… just be careful and try not to use it. I’m not sure if that thing’s tied to any biosignature or anything, and you don’t want to wake in the hospital with cat ears and a tail.”

I actually have MORE trouble bringing in characters tied to the lore, honestly. The whole "tying in-game events to real dates in the real world" part of things. I had heroes that BECAME heroes during the events of the first rikti invasion that i made a long time ago but never got to develop as characters in RP. I want them to be struggling with adapting to the new responsibilities-- but in the timeline, that's far in the past. Retcon to the loss of galaxy city. which the in-game experience suggests is more recent, and that's treated as several years ago too.... guess it's time for InsertGenericRandomEvent rather than tying the characters into the game. I think this is part of why I have so little emotionally-invested in my stable of RP characters. They've all had their ties to in-game material minimized to be hand-waved away, if needed. None introduce a detailed backstory that ties heavily to the lore. None are veteran heroes who would have experienced more of the lore or been established as a hero in the community. Most, actually, arise from the bit characters that I made years ago for pen-n-paper NPCs and that were designed specifically to NOT be in the spotlight.

Brickstown Tabby's Apartment Building 1830 “Effin battery” Tabby cursed to herself as she navigated the streets of Brickstown. Normally, she’d be running through the shadows, jumping from shadowy corner to rooftop to poorly-lit alleyway just so she’d be avoided. Today, though, every one of those spots seemed to be occupied by one crime faction or another, lying in wait for something. Staying on the sidewalks was far less likely to draw attention. Normally, she’d use the fire escape to slip into her room, but she caught sight of a silhouette moving under it and opted for the stairs this time. Today, the stairs seemed a more prudent option. She glanced over at the mailbox to see if the sign had changed. Still “Tabby- Alli Kat.” *Still gonna be the butt of that joke.* The mailbox door seemed slightly ajar, though, and she didn’t even need a key to open it. She nearly fell backward seeing the toy truck’s packaging and receipt. She’d paid cash, *nobody could have traced it back to me unless they were wa… * She read the note… well, the first line at least. It’s really difficult not to panic when someone tells you not to. It’s even harder not to look around. She very stiffly gathered up the mail, kept her head facing directly forward, and sidestepped to the stairwell, unlocked the security door, and climbed them with all the grace of a robot until clear of view, then ran to her room, safe. Wait, no… there’s another note taped to her door. They made it this far too? “To Our Little Grey Girl Garfield” Mrs DeMocco. Geeze, that lady was was saccharine sweet and nothing but friendly to the neighbors, but her choice of term of endearment for Tabby couldn’t have hit a more raw nerve. That, and her touchy-feely-friendliness, trying to pet her like she was some sort of cat. She never just left a simple note like a post-it. She reused pretty-pictured greeting cards with the original message crossed out. This one, for example, seemed to originally be for a Bar mitzva. Not only did her nickname constantly reference her diminutive size and catgirl status, but GARFIELD? Come on- a male orange grumpy striped cat? What’d they even have in common, aside from stripes? She grumbled incoherently to herself and opened the card. She was just too much. “Making lasagna this weekend. Make room in your freezer for two trays.” God, she adored that woman. She’d run an Italian restaurant in this town for decades. When she was nervous, she still distracted herself with cooking, and when she was REALLY nervous, she reverted back to her restaurant-sized batches then shared them out to family and friends. With most of her kids and grandkids now out-of-state, her neighbors often got phone calls of “guess what? you’re getting two dozen cannoli! I ran out of space!” at odd hours of the day. Night too. Living this close to the zig made Mrs. DeMocco very nervous very often. She did a little dance in the hall before going inside. Her fridge was so empty she’d considered unplugging it to save the electricity. Should she tell Mrs Democco she could take more than two? Oh, right! The other note! She read it over. Then read it again. She’s being tracked through her phone? Ditch the phone? Ditch it and use what? Buy another WITH WHAT? *This heroing gig is really not good for my pocketbook*. She suppressed her first impulse ( to take a pic of the phone and message her friend RT to see if that crap’s possible). Her second impulse too (to ask her digital assistant where she could buy a burner phone). Instead, she let the phone power down and buried it away. She pulled out two pre-approved credit cards from the pile of mail- just in case one didn’t work, and headed off to the nearest corner store to get one of the prepaid phones. It was hard to NOT worry about being watched though. She did her best to leave the same as she came in (walking more robotically than a nemesis automaton) and tried to behave as naturally as possible, but natural didn’t come to her easily, and her mind kept going over parts of the note. *Make me collateral? I kinda hope my note-writer meant that as a warning- that LONGBOW wasn’t afraid of making me collateral damage, not a threat (“I’m not afraid to make you collateral.”) For that matter, I kinda hope they DO mean collateral damage and not something like using me as partial payment for the dagger… I’ve seen that kinda stuff in the fanfic before and I didn’t think to check if the authors were with Longbow or Vanguard or whatever.* She was overthinking, to be sure. Only so much could fit on the back of a receipt. That explained the wording. That was all this was. Or was it. Is that what someone in the spy trade wanted her to think? Is that what she was doing? It was gonna be a long walk to the meeting point.

Atlas Park, Atop the Atlas Statue 1545, Tabby, The afternoon sun was always the best. The way it envelops the fur with a golden glow, yet low enough in the sky that it lacked noon’s harshness. Up here, atop the Atlas statue, with the bustle of the world below her… she could just melt. Just fade away, lost in the luxury. She could even forget about her belly grumbling and the fact that even ramen noodles broke the next week’s food budget unless she found a buyer for a barely-used remote control car that was now packed in her backpack. She heard the phone vibrate- an email. She didn’t want to move. Couldn’t. “Ok, CreyTek, play last message” “be aware cancel meeting, possible snipers. You'll hear from me.” SNIPERS! Where? At the meeting place? At Talos? DID THEY FOLLOW ME HERE? Who? No, she was overreacting. Nobody would even know she was here unless… she pulled open the Tabby Tracker. Yep. Video footage circling her basking under the sun. The post claimed to be drone footage, but she caught a hint of cape at the edge of a few frames. Some super had submitted this for the daily free pizza prize. Great. But no. the meeting was cancelled. They wouldn’t have any reason to track her here. Her contact’s worried about snipers at the contact site. Outside the midnighter entrance. For a meeting at 9:30 tonight. That’s not exactly a quiet time on a college campus. If she wasn’t there for the meet-up, someone else might be there and get mistaken for the contact. Somebody uninvolved could die. She dialed her work-study supervisor, but nobody answered. She left a Voicemail, “hey, it’s Tabitha. I can’t explain, but please don’t let anyone near the steel canyon campus entrance tonight, 9-10. It… could be dangerous. umm... bye” Now, she could lie low and feel safe, unless curiosity got the best of her. Curiosity got the best of her. She bounded down from the atlas Statue, half cat-landing, half slowing her descent via spell, and darted under the balcony at city hall. She stashed her backpack there, keeping only her phone (in a shoulder wallet) and one earbud on her. “Or… I could sneak around Steel Canyon and see if I can figure out where the snipers may be. I bet there are only a few buildings able to see that entrance from a distance, and stealth IS my specialty.” Well, stealth and slamming concentrated blasts of arcane energy point blank into a bad guy’s backside, but she was trying to cut back on that- but maybe tonight will be an exception.

Talos Island, Big Hill Next To The Tram 11:46 Tabby The email notification came in even before she caught her breath. She’d have laughed at the irony of where she was being sent if she wasn’t so damn tired. She opened the backpack and pulled out he car’s original packaging. “All this trouble… for that. Let’s get you back in the box, returned, and then grab some grub and maybe a nap. Won’t get any sleep back at Brickstown, though, but it might be a good day to catch some rays atop Atlas…” She was so focused on reassembling the box that she didn’t see the toy car roll until it picked up momentum, racing down the hill toward the busy street below, far too advanced for her to have any chance of reaching it. The string of profanity won’t be repeated here. Just use your imagination and then multiply it by ten. Then, as the tiny truck bounced off the curb and moments before certainly being crushed, she triggered a translocation spell- her FIRST translocation spell- she’d been researching it ever since she found herself stranded on a dead ferry- and she caught the car, pulling it back to safety. “Yes. YES! I… I DID IT- it worked. Holy crow mother of dog it worked. Something FINALLY went RIGHT. OH I LOVE YOU you stupid toy.” She started singing, “I’m gonna get to return you… I’m gonna have money for groceries. I’m gonna be able to eattt!” She broke out a little dance, disturbing quite a few passers-by and totally missing it when a gust of wind carried the box and receipt away and out of sight.

Talos Island, Big Hill Next To The Tram 11:44:33 Tabby Tabby did her best not to trip over her disguise. The baggy jeans, hoodie, and mask was originally chosen to minimize pressure against her fur while hiding as much of her catgirl-ness as possible. It didn’t really succeed at either, instead just transforming her into an uncomfortable clumsy mess with a cat tail working free from the pants, lumps that were clearly cat ear’s, and lots of muffled profanity under the mask. Still, it was all she had available on such short notice. She practically took the janitor’s closet door off the hinges to make it out of the Midnighters’ in time to go shopping AND make the rendezvous. The little remote-control car had sapped away what was left of an already-miniscule food budget, so she really hoped she could get the darn thing in the original packaging and return it after all this was through. Still huffing and puffing through the mask, she stopped, dropped her backpack on the grould, placed the car beside it, and held the remote in her hands. *Batteries! I forgot the goddamn batteries.*

Midnighter’s Club Two Days After “The Incident” Tabby “Keep it cool. Tabby, Keep it cool. Play normal. “ She paced furiously- or as furiously as she could there wasn’t much room for pacing in the Library’s custodian’s closet, but her artifact/nap room was under guard now and she needed somewhere to hide. The fur from nape of her neck to her tail was a full ridge now, her tail was bristled to triple its normal width. It whipped about, slamming into the walls of her small confinement with a thunking that was sure to wake the dead. “Breathe in, Breathe out. Wax on… wax off. Focus. Find your happy place. Find your happy place!” She turned back to the book she’d left propped on the mop sink, “Crafting the Dagger of Jocas.” It was here all along- exactly what she needed- and she’d been too stupid to notice. More than one of the mages she’d consulted told her that she was an amalgam of essences- that her path to a cure was to excise the parts of her that weren’t the original Tabitha Lachann. Well, there’d been more than that, sure, but that was a big part of it. *This is it. It was right here with me, and it was STOLEN.* Worse, it was stolen from the archives. On the first day of Tabby’s student work-study, she’d been told DO NOT GO IN THERE probably a dozen times… which was rude on a number of levels, like they didn’t trust her. Since she quickly learned that most of the stuff that fascinated her about that job was in those archives. she’d spent practically every unsupervised moment back there. And now they’re probably going to be going through security footage, recording every transgression. They’ll realize she’d been trespassing. They’ll fire her and she’ll never be allowed in there again and then she’ll lose her best lead on a cure and then she’ll get expelled and that’ll be a violation of the terms of her release and… and… “Oh, God, I’m gonna puke.” No, there was only one way out of this mess: she needed to recover the Dagger of Jocas. That way, they’d stop looking at the archive access, she’d have access to the scalpel she needed to cut of the non-Tabitha parts of her once she learned how to detect them, and she might even get credited to her community service for such a heroic recovery! It was the only way! Mission defined, resolved set. Now she just needed a plan. Gathering information made sense, but unfortunately, she didn’t have many contacts. The downside of her plan to “lay low until I get cured” was that she really didn’t interact enough with anyone to consider them a trustworthy contact. Of course, the other downside of her plan was it failed miserably when meme-worthy pics, video, and even audio clips went viral, turning her into an unwilling internet star… at least in some dark corners of the web. The great contradiction: she didn’t know anybody, but everybody knew who she was. (Well, everybody WEIRD, it seems. The notoriety didn’t help her at all with the important stuff, like selecting next semesters’ classes…) BUT Maybe that was enough…. Tabby opened her phone and navigated to NaughtyNeko.org’s Tabby Tracker. She saw that the pic of her fighting the carnies with the caption, “It’s not a party till naked catgirls are on the dancefloor” won the monthly prize, but that didn’t matter right now. Flipping through previous submissions, she found what she wanted- uploads of her short visit to the Vanguard command center. A bit farther back, and some from her time in Fort Trident. She had contacts that knew her in both Vanguard and Longbow! She just didn’t know them! Bonus- their uploads proved they were already lax on security. Just a few PM’s away. She logged in under an old pseudonym “notACatgirlButIStalkOneOnline” and thought to click through and do a bit more investigation into her potential leads, making notes as she went. A flamewar in one had @tightsFromLA claiming to have a Longbow rank as captain. Promising. Fanfic attributed to @FurFreak27, though, put him on the block list. “5 more to research…” Then she noticed the frenzy of new posts down in the non-catgirl “sightings” thread. It was usually pretty dead, given the forum’s specialized focus, but something had caught the community attention. Some post purportedly from the dark web of a new female Power, some “Burnt Feather”. Probably photoshopped. The video had almost as many trigger warnings as @FurFreak27’s fanfic—almost, so she figured it was safe to proceed. She’d seen worse. She was wrong. Fortunately, the Janitor’s closet did have a sink to puke into. Shit. That… that’s a horrible way to go. Thank God that’s Praetoria. I don’t want anything to do with…” her voice trailed off as an idea formed. “That’s the Praetorian Dagger of Jocas. Right there. In her bloody hands. How different could it BE from the one in this world? If Ireturned it instead who would be the wiser? PLUS it means I don’t have to deal with a bunch of pervy furry-loving freaks. She played back the video again and took down the email address. After creating a new dedicated mail account and doing her best impersonation of a battle-focused muscle-head, she hit send. Now, time to kill until I get a response. She’d overheard some voices outside talking about turning the zig to rubble or a sinkhole or something like that. It was muffled and hard to make out, but her apartment was within spitting distance of the zig perimeter. *Not like I’ve got much there. Most valuable thing there is the security deposit. Hope I don’t get cheated out of that.* Still, worth learning more, and if she as going to be taken seriously as someone that could be of value to someone like Burnt Feather, she needed to practice coming across as a real professional, not some nervous student worker. If she just slipped out and approached with the calm confidence of a Midnighter, maybe they’d tell her more. With the perfect plan in place, she gathered up the book and left the clos… DAMN, is the door stuck? LOCKED?

eyes Patti's reaction. yeah, that's about right. Caffeine high today. tried to cover as many tangental "missed connections" as could without making a novella.

Tabby’s Probably-Not-Canon “Self-Conceit” Tie-In Tabby missed out of the whole first round of tasks for the Self-Conceit Story arc. Why? What was she doing? This phone call might hold the answers. ----------------------------------------- Tabby lurched awake to a terrifyingly loud Klaxon coming from everywhere, surrounding her, so powerful it resonated in her skull… deafening … no, it was just the ringer in her earbuds. Stupid phone. “H- hello?” “Yeah, um… hold on.” “No…” “Yes, I should be able to hear the zig alarms from my apartment, but I’m not AT my apartment. apartment. I’m… whereami? I’m at my work-study.” She looked around. More specifically, she was on a makeshift bed hidden behind a crate in the midnighter archives. Magically climate-controlled for optimal artifact preservation also happened to make it a cozy spot for a quick nap- so much so that if she hadn’t had her earbuds in place, she may have been able to follow the faint sound of snoring to another more elaborately-done secret spot occupied by an anthropomorphic rat. “Four Hours! I mean, I know my shift ended hours ago, but I’d been caught up in some research and…” “No, I really am at the work study at the Midnighters Library.” “No, I’m not ‘with someone.’” “Why does everyone ask that?” “Well yeah, statistically speaking it probably is a good assumption with most catgirls. Not me though.” “Hostages? Really? I mean REALLY! Of course, all that. Y’know had to keep a low profile. Let others in a better position work through it, but it’s over.” “It IS over, right?” She peeked out of the archives doors into the Steel Canyon library. The coast appeared clear. Some dangerous looking dude in a brown trenchcoat and a girl- probably her age- in a kickass white mage robe seemed to be engaged with the rest of the midnighters, wrapping things up, so she slipped past them to the exit. “I’m so gonna copy that look once I get human again.” “What? No, sorry, just talking to myself.” “Ok, I’m heading out. They can take care of that. How about I detour over to city hall and you can brief me on the zig thing over donuts?” “No donut day?” “CITY HALL TOO?” “So… did the hostage-taking start before or after the donut delivery? Like, is there a lunchroom full of just-delivered uneaten donuts?” “Ok, fine, I’ll drop it. So, brief me on the Zig.- but if they are there, can you pop a few in the freezer for me to pick up later? ” Darting through Steel Canyon, she came across several mobs of hellions terrorizing the city and heroes rushing to engage them. An Asian girl spouting what appeared to be Spanish profanity taking down one group of arsonists. She seemed to have things under control and was kinda terrifying to watch. Just a building over, a kinda thin mage type seemed to want to talk down the hellions. “Someone’s gonna get flattened. Hold on” … then she saw the hellions listen and follow his command. “Nope, he’s good. Moving on.” “No, he’s mental- I mean a mind controller or something. Not risking anyone doing anything with my head. Never.” “It’s the only part of me that’s not changed, and I aim to keep it that way.” “Last thing I need is some hypnotist making me speak nyancat or start n end every sentence with a meow or something humiliating like that. Not. Gonna. Happen.” “Ok, so back to the zig. Fill me in” “Who the hell breaks INTO a prison?” “Ok, so break into AND break out of. They’re covering all bases there.” “Well, power suppressors aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. I was in this bar with them and it totally didn’t suppress my transformation spell at all. Wasn’t just me too.. there was this overly-handsy invisible tentacle guy that tried to impress me with a huge..” “… wad of money. Where was your mind?” “Sorry I asked” “No, I wasn’t drinking.” “I know the rules of my release.” “I’m not on house arrest, you know. I’m allowed to go out on occasion?” “I’m sure you could, but I’m really not interested.” “No, that’s not why I was in a bar, but… ok, thanks. Just… If I do decide to date, I’ll consider going to one of your mixers, OK? Happy?” “Ok, back to the Zig, right? You were telling me about the tunnels…” “What? You need me at Peregrine now? Seriously?” “Portal? No offense, but should I really be your first call for potentially EXTRA-Dimensional incidents? I feel like you should have someone a bit higher on your rolodex.” “Well who were you trying to call?” “Flamb… REALLY, you’d call HER before ME?” “Now, I’m hurt.” “Don’t try to explain it. You’re making it worse. I’m on my way to Talos. “Wait, What was that about the warriors?” “You gotta be effin kidding me!” “Is there any part of the city that ISN’T melting down?” “Nope. Just got texts about a troll raver and a Lusca sighting, so those two are out, too.” “Ok, I’m in the rail, on my way to Talos. If I catch the ferry, I should be eta maybe 20 minutes.”” “Yeah, I hate that thing.” “No, I hate boats, not water. It’s not a cat-thing.” “Grew up along a lake. Swam all the time, but once when I was about six I was playing on an old boat on the docks and it got unmoored. No oars, not that I’d know how to use them. Just stuck out on the lake for hours. Too far out to swim or be heard. It totally scarred me.” “Because I’m not part of any supergroup that would have teleporters to zap you to problem spots..” “Maybe they’ve met their quota on catgirls.” “Look, it’s a trope but it’s true. Every supergroup’s already got at least one temperamental crittergirl with daddy issues and an overactive libido. They don’t need another” “Not that I… I mean, that’s what they SEE when they see me, not that I have… Damn, why couldn’t this monorail car have been empty. We’re hitting the tunnel. I’ll call you back when we get to the other side.” It seemed like forever before reaching the Talos station, particularly with some creepy older dude asking her if she’d like to talk more about her father. She certainly proved the “temperamental” part in the interim, though. “Ok, back at Talos now. Heading to the ferry.” “Look, do you want me fighting Warriors or defending Portal Corp, I can’t be in both places.” “Wait, they’re doing WHAT at the zig? I heard that in the background? My apartment’s near there. Everything I own…” “Yeah, all 75 cents worth of it. Thanks for rubbing it in. Geeze, these streets are practically abandoned.” “HolyFuckWhatWasThat?” “Some crazyfreaky crittergirl just dismantled a bunch of Warriors in the alley. Yeah, I meant dismantled. Warriors.” “I’m wasn’t sticking around to find out.” “Ok, I’m at the friggin Ferry.” “Battery’s low. Gonna sign out. Should be at Peregrine soon, then I’ll check in.” “Don’t Jinx it.” Just as Talos Island became a distant blip on the horizon, the hum of the engne turned into choking gasps. Black smoke belched from deep within the ship and all the lights went out. “Goddamn, she Jinxed it.” Tabby spent the rest of her night and most of the next day trapped on a darkened Ferry with the ship’s captain, two crewmen, and two tour busses of attendees to a hentai otaku convention. They hooked up the bus batteries to a projector and played a marathon of “Neko Neko Ninja Princess” anime against the inside wall of the ferry. Subbed first, then again dubbed. With all the events going on, nobody could be spared to come out and get the adrift vessel. Fortunately help arrived before the “dubbers” vs “subbers” went all lord of the flies on one another. Tabby, for her part, spent most of her time on the roof avoiding all of them, pleading with God for forgiveness for whatever she did to deserve this.

Date: Post “The Warriors Wax Off”, Nightfall Location: Skyway South Monorail Station Characters: Misosazai The monorail station was deserted- it always was this time of night- so there was nobody to distract Misosazai from her reflection in the station’s glass. Covered in mud, blood, and soot, one would have trouble making out her original skin tone. The swelling over her left had started going down, but her right eye was just starting its path. Split lip, dried blood under the nose, and a smile on her face that should have had no reason being there. It had been one hell of a wild day. The smile turned to a grimace as she raised her arm to check out her side. The arm itself sported an improvised bandage, courtesy of the Warriors. Nothing to get worried about- but her ribs took a bashing from a war mace, and she wasn’t sure if there was internal damage yet. *That one might need a doctor.* She wasn’t sure what had happened there- the move should have been routine- she’d moved with the flow of the swing to lessen the impact and intercepted the handle to deflect the blow. It should have just been a cushioned contact, hold the mace against her body, twist, and disarm. Instead, it somehow hit her with enough force to send her reeling and gasping for breath. Playing it back in her head over and over, she still couldn’t make out where she went wrong. It wasn’t just fatigue from fighting the Hellions- she’d had time to recover before she’d run into the others and agreed to go with them. Lord knows why they asked her- a Mage, a Winged Girl, and street trash. Which one doesn’t belong? Why had she even gone? How did she ever imagine to be in that class? Part of her wanted to blame the mage- she’d briefly seen him in action during the fight- some sort of mental domination or telepathic control- but she knew that was just a cop-out. She went on her own. She frowned. Then there was a Dr. Brane before engaging the fight- she was still not quite sure what to make of him either. Bold, brash, overconfident, and pretty clearly operating under rules very different than her own. They were… well, how were they different from her rules. He fought on their side, but clearly with his own agenda… but how was that any different than her? … maybe that was what bothered her. What were her rules, now? It wasn’t the risk of mind control that bothered her, or even defeat at the hands of the warriors- maybe that winged girl was there to whisk away fallen champions to Valhalla once they fell- no skin off her nose, she wouldn’t qualify. No, it was what Barracuda said to her. Misosazai had just taken down one of Barracuda’s party- an arachnos soldier. She wasn’t sure if he was down for the count or not and she needed to be able to focus completely on Barracuda if she was going to have any chance of getting through this, so she’d broken his arms for good measure. Barracuda grinned- a toothy, terrifying grin- and had said, “Looks like we have someone with some POTENTIAL” here. She didn’t say that to the person that was making people give up with a thought. She didn’t say that to the winged girl making precision shots that made the mind boggle. She didn’t say it to crazed mercenary-merchant-of-destruction. She said it to *her* as she stood there breaking the arms of a downed foe. In her reflection, she saw her mother. They were back in the dojo- she’d been marveling at the fire-throwing power of some young “at risk” heroine for some private sessions- the emphasis was on discipline of action more than fighting style. She’d marveled at the ability to bring fire forth at will. Her mother was far less impressed, and was far more concerned that the young heroine's path would be one of conceit and destruction. “Raw Power don’t define you, Misosazai. Your actions and motivations do.” It was so frustrating- her mom would use Misosazai much like the old TV shows would use “grasshopper.” She never gave Ryk a nickname like that. Another spike of pain brought her out of meditation. Right now, it didn't matter. What mattered was finding a place to crash before she collapsed from exhaustion. Several of the construction sites in Faultline had makeshift showers so the crew could clean off before heading home. They'd all be abandoned now, and she had a stashed backpack along the way with some bedding. The adrenaline was wearing off. she needed rest nothing else. Still, as she limped toward the Faultline gates, she couldn't help thinking What did motivate me? What did Barracuda see in me? What would mom have seen in me?