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  1. Lee stumbled into sudden consciousness, guided by the sound of someone calling her name – her current one at any rate – repeatedly. “Ms. Roman”, Lt. Mayne asked her yet again, “are ye alright?” “Lee”, she muttered, sounding a lot less coherent than she meant or wanted to. “What?” “Just call me Lee”, said Lee. It sounded more like a moan than a sentence. “Er… right”, Mayne responded noncommittally. He was still looking pretty worried, but that expression was steadily giving way to one of bemused confusion. After a pause he told her, “Yer ‘chute failed t’open an’ ya hit the ground savage like, aye but you know yerself. We were none too sure you’d be getting’ up again from a fall like that, but tankgodanisolymuther yer still amongst the living.” “The others?” Lee asked, after her still-groggy mind managed to parse Mayne’s Irish accent into a form of English she could understand. She sat up then and started glancing about, taking stock of her situation now that her senses were returning to her and the shapes and colors all around her were starting to make sense again. Rake and Le Chêne were off to one side, standing behind Mayne, and nodded a greeting as she looked their way. “They’re fine, ma’am. Lee”, Mayne answered her, “Plewman landed wrong on his ankle, but he’ll be alright.” There was Plewman, Lee saw, sitting low on a sand dune several yards away with O’Sullivan crouched next to him. Lee nodded her understanding at Mayne, still taking stock, putting the pieces back together. There’d been the training in Egypt – completed only days ago now, but it seemed like years – followed by the rapid journey down to Darfur day before yesterday, the night-flight over Ubangi-Shari, a day of bouncing about in a jeep in Nigeria and, finally, a second night of flying, this time deep into French West Africa. They’d passed entirely over French Sudan and penetrated deep into Mauritania, at which point she and her team were to perform a parachute drop into the desert some 40 kilometers outside of Ouadane. Right, the parachute drop…. Hers hadn’t opened – like parachutes were supposed to – leaving Lee to plummet to her death. Or so she’d thought up until her sudden return to consciousness a moment ago had proved her wrong. Not that she was complaining. Surviving a fall from an airplane. That was a new one she could add to her List of Stuff What Hasn’t Killed Me (yet). And one she wasn’t likely to have put to the test voluntarily, either, so she supposed she should consider the event both fortunate and educational. Lee pulled herself to her feet, brushing aside Lt. Mayne’s attempts to stop her, and realized as she did so that while she may have ‘survived’ a fall from an airplane, she hadn’t done so ‘unscathed’. Yes, those were definitely some broken ribs she could feel scraping about in there, her right knee audibly popped back into joint as she struggled to stand, and she had a sneaking suspicion that there was something seriously wrong with her spine. She brushed at her temple and, upon seeing the clear fluid that was rapidly turning an inky black color clinging to the metal ‘skin’ of her hand when she pulled it away, realized she was also bleeding from a head wound. A benefit of being dynamic: she would almost certainly have recovered mostly or entirely from all of these injuries by this time tomorrow. Which was good, because more than 30 kilometers lay between them and their first objective and they needed to cover it all before this time tomorrow. She would be sore enough without the injuries. Lee accepted a strip of cloth from Mayne to clean her forehead with. She looked around at her five-man motley crew of British and Free French army as they watched her expectantly; Plewman was back up on his feet and appeared to have little or no limp, which was good. Spreading out around them on all sides as far as the eye could see under a night sky that blazed with stars, but no moon, were the low rolling sand dunes of the Sahara. To the east, the horizon was showing the first glimmerings of the rising dawn. “Alright", she told them, turning so that the coming dawn was to her right. "Let's go."
  2. Alex was born on July 4, 1915. His father, Alexander Aceworth SR., had just gotten back from his most recent tour of duty in the first World War, and had been discharged due to losing his right leg. But in the process, Alexander Senior erupted, becoming a sharp mind with a keen intellect. He went into business for himself, eventually pioneering research into a form of Aetherfiber that becomes one of the premier brands of Aetherfiber clothing on the market. Even after the Great Depression set in, Aceworth Aetherics Applications created many Aethertechnology products that have recieved wide acclaim, enough to bouy the corporation through the troubled waters of the 1930s. Alex's mother, Rebecca Aceworth (Nee Shwarzstadt) was a Nurse during the war effort, although once her husband Alex came home, they had gotten together. Rebecca was a smart woman herself, although she loved her coming role as mother to her dear boy. Alex was a only child, unfortunately, as Rebecca died soon after. Alex Junior had an eye for airplanes. They were the new form of transportation, and Alex loved putting models together whenever he could. Although he sighed as to how aircraft just weren't coming along like he wanted. He wanted to go faster, further, and with greater heights. Then when he turned 18, after hearing about the US Navy's aviation program, he immediately enlisted, and indeed showed great promise as a pilot. First in training with seaplanes that were just starting to see use, then with fighter aircraft designed for carrier use. While many higher up officials in the Navy didn't see the viability, Alex did, and participated in a demonstration that showed that indeed a carrier-based attack could devastate a old style battleship fleet. Then in 1940, as he was flying in a new Catalina type flying boat, he and his crew were testing a potential new aetheric detector that would pick up on submerged enemy submarines through the electromagnetic disturbances they cause as they travel through the water. When the device activated, it could detect even the most minute electromagnetic variance using a specific frequency called "Aetheric X-Frequency Waves". Everything started alright, as the crew reached their testing point over the Atlantic 50 miles off the coast of Miami. Then the device shorted, releasing a massive pulse of X-Frequency Aetheric Waves, causing Alex's crew to immediately have massive brain hemmorages. They died on the spot as their brains became a mush. Alex on the other hand was slammed into with the same waves, but unbeknownst to everyone, through interaction with his father and the constant exposure to a variety of Aetheric waves; his central nervous system was arranged in a certain pattern, causing the trigger of a eruptive event. Just as Alex's head hit the dashboard of his stricken plane. When he came to, his plane was sinking as the tail end was sheared off in the crash, and he had mere moments to get out. Grabbing the now fried device, and got out. Left floating out in the Atlantic for two days, blood trickling from his nose, and the test team on shore didn't know what had happened. Search parties went north and south of him. He didn't even know if the submarine that was picked to head out as a test subject would be passing through and made part of the search. All the while he knew sharks would arrive. And they did, but before they could make a meal of Alex, the test submarine surfaced and picked him up, sending him back home. Luckily he grabbed the device as well, the science teams had a field-day on it wondering why it failed. But Alex already knew just by looking at how it faulted. Sabotage. German Sabotage. Then he showed how the Aetheric waves interacted with the emmiter ring, and several other things only a Athertech engineer could figure out. In fact they discovered that Alex had somehow become smarter, and his reaction time jumped up greatly. Seeing he would be a great asset analysing Wunderwaffe weapons starting to pop up from the Blitzkrieg, Alex was sent to Washington DC; with a higher rank and a new duty to a newly formed department made up of the best minds in the US Navy. In January of 1941, he is sent to England to assist the Royal Air Force, Navy, and Army, in analysing discovered Aethertech from shot down Luftwaffe aircraft. This, is where Alex's war begins.
  3. Prologue 0030, April 1, 1940 Miami, Florida; US Coast Guard Base It was quiet. A early spring morning, and it is a bit warm for the time of year for the night. It was a smooth 65 degrees, although it was forecast to hit the mid eighties that afternoon. Not that the weather was of particular concern to a individual walking where they shouldn't. She had gotten into the marina with skill. Her suit the hallmark of Nazi German engineering. Allowing her to breathe water, giving the woman a chance to use her dynamic talent for swimming faster than a torpedo while remaining undetected. She snuck around to a side door leading to an open area in the marina, large enough for a heavy seaplane to move in, just what the stalker was looking for. A spotlight swung around and she with one hand gracefully gets under the dock, where she would plant part one of her device. A odd black box, attached under the dock pointing out, right where the main mooring would be for a seaplane. Then she sunk into the water and once she hit bottom, she planted her second device, seeing the searchlight in vain looking in it's usual pattern. The second device was also black, but it had a bobber that popped up. She reeled a crank letting the bobber float higher and higher until it was about a foot from the surface, the bobber colored the same as the surrounding water. She moved some seaweed about, making sure the box the bobber was attached to wouldn't be spotted. Then as quick as she came she started off, heading into the dark depths like a ghost from the depths. No more that 30 minutes later she arrived where a German U-Boat sat, awaiting her arrival. Sitting some 400 miles off the coast. She crawled into the escape hatch and closed the hatch above her and let the chamber she was in vent it's water before a submariner opened the door leading into the sub. A man in a black SS uniform nodded to her. "Captain Alexa, report." He was her commanding officer, and he was eager to hear of her success. "It was like taking candy from a baby, Colonel. The first device, the one with the bobber, was set to the proper depth so the self-attaching magnetic coupling would properly contact and trigger. The other box is tuned to the assigned frequency as you asked." "Excellent." "Once the seaplane they are going to use arrives to pick up the girl and her little toy, the Americans will regret interfering with the Fatherland." "When is the Navy set to arrive in Miami?" "Last I heard, while observing a couple stupid sailors standing around their patrol boat, by 3pm Today." "Good, I guess their little advice of loose lips sink ships doesn't get heeded as much as it should." The woman pulled back the clear facemask that lead to a complex backpack that was her air-supply when underwater. Her stunning blue eyes were compounded by the scars on her face from several battles with "Aces" from France, Poland, and England. She loved drowing every one. Hence her name "Sea Witch", when translated to English. "The Americans should listen to their own advice. The less advangages they have to give to Britain when we strangle them, the better. The honor of killing the little prodigy Dynamic Britain sent will be a bonus. She's smart, but just as mortal as the pilots that will share her fate." "Although when the device they're testing fails, the crewmen will be quite dead before she meets her watery grave." The SS officer mused. "All in due time... all we have to do is wait. Once the seaplane, a Catalina, has sunk, all we have to do is collect the device." "But what will keep them from getting it?" "The sabotage device will put off a strong X-Frequency Aetheric Wave, from the interferance the two devices will create in harmony with the experiment, once the little girl's experiment is turned on. Actually, about 10 minutes into it's operation." The SS officer knew what a X-Frequency Aetheric Wave would do to the human brain. It would send such an electrical shock through the nervous system that it would fry the brain while every blood vessel burst around it. That and there would be lingering effects for hours afterward. Only a Dynamic would withstand such energy and the ambient after-glow. "Excellent. You've shown yourself to be a credit to the Fatherland, Katarina." Katarina pulled out a mauser, and almost on the same reflex parked three bullets into his brain. "Yes... I am... unfortunately a traitor like you, Herr Shwarzstadt, will no longer be tolerated." She waved to a couple seamen that burst through the door. "Sailors, take this refuse to torpedo tube number 4 and launch it into the sea. This spy for the British will no longer be causing us trouble." They nodded and did as she ordered. "The British will soon pay for soiling the uniform of the Shustaffel! Soon indeed..." She knew that the crew of the boat now could be compromised. She sighed, her Ubermenshen training kicking in. She reached into a foot locker near her and flipped a switch on a black box, then grabbed what looked like a yellow bag that looked too bulky to be just her personal effects. She then ran into the same escape tube as before. Then flooded the compartment as she pulled her facemask back down again, as a couple sailors ran to the door with confused faces. She kept a count in her head. There was a sonic device that she had placed in her foot locker that would wreck the integrety of the hull by popping every rivet around it. It would be hapening in one minute. Once she opened the hatch outside she heard the sonic weapon activate, and on queue the hull split dead-center, a burst of air and fuel entered the water. Once she hit the surface she turned a knob that was attached to a gas bottle on the bag she carried and it deployed into a single-person raft. Her bag with her personal effects and her SS uniform was sitting dry as a bone in a clear bag made of aetherfiber. She wasn't left in the water long as a black flying-wing aircraft landed nearby her, it's pontoons unfolding from it's wings. Then it opened a hatch. She climbed in as a luftwaffe pilot saluted her. "Was the mission a success?" "Yes, unfortunately those onboard U-555 needed to be terminated as the crew was found to be harboring a British spy masquerading as a SS officer. They were showing signs of defection." "Unfortunate." The pilot said turning the flying-wing aircraft around. "We don't have much fuel, but we will be rendevousing with the Graf Zepplin near the agreed point. It will refuel us and allow us to return to Berlin." She nodded taking her seat. "I do love technology... it makes my job so much easier." That Morning 0830, Pensacola Naval Base A group of Navy Airmen, all mixed ranks were sitting at their table enjoying Breakfast. They were stationed there for rescue duty as pilots trained in using fighters for carrier flight. They were supposed to be on duty, but their captain was grounded with an intestinal infection and they were pulled from the active roster for the next week as a precaution. Commander Peter Trenton, sat eating his scrambled eggs, looking over his compatriots. Bored out of his mind. "Shit... Why you think they pulled us for whatever the Captain caught?" Lieutenant Alex Aceworth, son of the American Aetherfiber Tycoon Alex Aceworth Senior, Drank some Orange Juice, smiling. "Ever thought that we might have whatever is ailing our captain in our guts too? I mean, we don't stray very far from each other as we're practically on duty every hour, sir." "Nugget, we're off duty... we can speak freely." Everyone here that was a pilot had some form of combat experience except for Alex. Pete got sent back stateside from his time as a Flying Tiger with the Captain, he was a bit unhinged after a couple of his men were captured by Japanese and sent to a labor camp. The Captain himself was discharged, but he ended up re-assigned to Pensacola's training facility to help train new pilots in carrier warfare. The name Nugget annoyed him. Ensign Thomas Allen, on the other hand, accomplished rescue swimmer and medic sat with his elbows on the table absentmindedly looking outside. "Whatever... that just means the best team isn't on the field." He said, looking at the baseball report. "Well... they're saying the Washington Senators would be the team to beat." Alex rolled his eyes. "If Minnesota could just have a baseball team." "Don't it snow this time of the year in Siberia, Nugget?" Commander Trenton snarked as all Alex could to is stare holes into Trenton's head. A sailor sitting near the three stoot up quick and shouted "Admiral on deck!" and the three stood up out of reflex, facing the Admiral that walked in with their Captain, Captain Morris Williams dressed in his full flight gear. "Gentlemen. At Ease." Admiral David Cartwright, a 30 year veteran of the Navy, serving since the before the Great War, and becoming a Dynamic because of it put his cover under his arm. "You're having breakfast. You'll need it soon enough. I am in need of your skills today." The captain smiled. "Alex... this is going to be your first flight you're commanding. Pete's going to be with me on the ground, but Tommy's gonna be your copilot on this." Alex blinked. "Huh? Tommy isn't even a pilot." "Yah, I am. I got a commercial licence before enlisting, and I got some time on our Catalina already." Alex remembered the time when Pete was having one of his flashbacks and Tommy had to take the wheel. "Alright... but why the change?" "Risk management. I'll explain en-route to Miami." "You guys got 30 minutes, then get in gear." The Admiral said, leaving as quickly as he came in. The Captain right behind. "Well... seems Cap was in good spirits." Pete said. Alex stroked his chin. "Whatcha think is going on?" Tommy sighed, putting his last bite of breakfast in his mouth. "Don't know, don't care. All I know is I get to fly today!" He said with a grin. "Not so fast, kid... you're not flying to Miami, only when the Admiral has us doing his little errand." Pete quickly responded, feeling his status as the #2 pilot threatened by a hotshot. "Now now, let's not get hot under the collar." Alex said, standing up and finishing the last of his juice. "It's probably some sort of tour that the Admiral is giving some Congressman or something... I keep seeing that guy whenever some top brass or politician is sleazing around." Alex smiled. Knowing a good showing might put him in the running to joining up with the Flying Tigers or perhaps head to England to bolster their pilot roster. Under the table, of course. "Let's get ready, and get this handled."
  4. ~One~ ,, "Mayday, mayday, mayday, this is the HMS Thunder Bay - " ,, There was a spark, and the smell of ozone, and the young man swore, pulling his fingers back from the radio. They tingled as he sucked on them. "Damn seawater - " He left his chair, stepping carefully on the wet floor of the radio room, as it started to tilt uneasily. He grabbed a raincoat off the wall, using the rubber to insulate his hand as he reached for the radio again. ,, "I say again, mayday, mayday, mayday, this is the HMS Thunder Bay requesting immediate assistance! Our escort suffered fuel loss and had to turn back and we have already launched our Hurricat. We are not under active fire but we have suffered a breach and an engine failure and have taken on water! I say again, mayday - " ,, The man paused, and started to stand again, as the captain of the vessel entered. "Sir - " ,, "Don't salute me, Fitzgerald, get back on the damn radio!" ,, "Sir, yes Captain Wells, sir!" ,, Fitzgerald leaned close to the microphone and repeated his message, exchanging a quick glance with the man running the sonar station. Captain Wells just looked out the window, and sighed. "At least the Hurricat chased off the bombers. Small mercy, but I'll take it." ,, "Mayday, mayday, mayday, this is the HMS Thunder Bay, requesting immediate assistance - " Fitzgerald paused, as the man at the sonar station slowly stood. ,, "Sir." He cleared his throat, his voice cracking. "Sonar contact, sir. It… it fits the signature of a U-boat." The captain closed his eyes. "I see." He cast his gaze out the window once more. "Well, they'll surely sink the boat. But they may leave us alone if we get into the lifeboats…" ,, The sonar operator and the radio operator exchanged glances. Captain Wells just smiled. "We gave it a shot. Just in case they don't sink the boat, I'll be staying behind to make sure it goes down properly." ,, "Sir - " ,, "Head to the lifeboats, Fitzgerald. That is an - hmmm." ,, Captain Wells leaned towards the sonar screen, tapping it, examining the pale green afterimage. "Hornby. Is that boat surfacing? ,, "I - yes. Yes, it appears to be." ,, "Why? They have us dead to rights down there. Why surface when they can get in range of the deck gun?" Wells then thought for a moment, and nodded. "They may intend to take the boat. If that's true then we have a chance to take a few of them with us. Get the lifeboats ready, but do not abandon ship. Ready the deck guns. We'll just see if… they are surfacing rather quickly, aren't they?" ,, He kept an eye on the sonar screen, which didn't lie - every sweep brought the ship closer to the surface. "Someone's in a hurry. Keep transmitting! Keep an eye on the sonar! If you see anything unusual, tell me immediately!" ,, The captain hustled out onto the deck. When he emerged, he shouted orders, and the men's training took over, loading the machineguns with a fresh barrel and a fresh belt of ammunition. "They'll be surfacing at 4 o'clock! Get ready!" ,, The men obeyed. The captain waited. Indifferent as always, the seawater swept by. ,, After a tense minute, the spotter found the shape of the boat, seconds before it breached the surface. It rose to level, and then above sea level, and then - in front of four dozen disbelieving pair of eyes, the submarine lifted clean out of the water. ,, "What the hell?" The captain pulled out a spyglass, peering through it. His eyebrows shot up at something, and then he smiled. ,, "Captain…?" ,, "Keep the guns hot. But… we might just be okay." ,, The submarine descended back into the water, and then a small human form rose from the water - floating, heedless of gravity, in a red, white and black caped uniform. No one could get a close enough look, but the captain could see clearly through his spyglass, and it was enough to momentarily shake his disbelief in the almighty. ,, The person - clearly a woman, very clearly even at this range - floated down to the top hatch, and incredibly, knocked on it. After a few moments, a person's head popped out of it. For a tense few minutes they appeared to have an argument, then the hatch closed, and the woman dove back beneath the waves. ,, Someone came running in from the sonar room, shouting something about how the boat was retreating. The captain just nodded, waiting - and sure enough, the woman returned. ,, She floated through the air, stopping over - but not on - the deck. Water ran down her body, dribbling on the deck. Everyone looked towards her. It was difficult not to. She coughed. ,, "Okay, I had a chat with the only person on that boat who spoke English. I need to learn German. Anyways, ah, I tied all their guns in knots and threw out all their torpedoes and they say they're going to go back to Germany on account of all that, so you're okay. I see that you're taking on water so I guess you need a tow?" ,, Someone whistled. She flinched at the sound. The captain looked askance over his shoulder, and the offending whistler coughed. "Sir, sorry, sir." ,, "No way to treat a lady, Private. Especially one that just saved our lives. If you're waiting for permission to come aboard - " He looked at the space between the deck and her feet. "You have it." ,, She landed, gracefully. "Thank you. You're not far from ACE Base Atlantic. I can tow you there." ,, "When we get there, who should I credit with saving the lives of everyone on this ship as well as several hundred pounds of aetherfiber?" ,, "No one important." She ran her fingers through long blonde hair. "Honest."
  5. Date: April, 1941 Location: Near the Burmese / Chinese Border ,, The jeep rolled to a stop at the checkpoint, the red mud-slicked sides testament to the quality of the roads along which it had traveled. In the back were bundles and sacks under the waterproof tarpaulin covering, and in the front was an unshaven man wearing a beaten and battered bush hat. From behind the dirty windshield, the man watched the uniformed soldiers manning the checkpoint as they not-quite-pointed their guns at the jeep. An officer marched to the driver's side, impassive Oriental features locked in what the young man probably thought was a stern poker face, the driver mused. He'd have to work better at it - the combination of wariness and officious hostility was all too evident to one who knew how to see them. ,, "Who are you?" the officer demanded in decent English, at least. The man in the jeep smiled up at him, tipping back the bush hat. ,, "I work for Pok Ma Ting." he said easily, a touch of some European accent in his voice. The officer shifted his footing at the name, but that was to be expected considering that Pok Ma Ting was chief of the local bandits and nominally an ally of the Japanese. He also had a nasty habit of mounting the heads of men who displeased him on wooden stakes... with their genitals in their mouths. The officer narrowed his eyes. ,, "You work for him?" he demanded, trying to sound incredulous. Though the man in the jeep was scruffy enough, he seemed a cut above Pok's run of the mill scum - deserters, bandits, murderers, opium fiends and rapists. ,, "Hard to believe, ja? I am a geologist, Herr. I look for gold... for Pok Ma Ting." ,, "You are German?" ,, "Ja. My name is Herman Klumperbum." the man lied. "I am a graduate of the university of Dusseldorf, and I-" he was cut off by the officer waving a peremptory hand. ,, "If you work for Mister Ting, you have papers!" The officer held out a hand, but the driver shook his head. ,, "So sorry, mein freund, but Mister Ting... he does not want people to know that I work for him, you see. In fact..." And the man leaned closer in a conspiratorial way, his manner prompting the Japanese officer to likewise lean forward. "He would be very unhappy if he knew that you knew. So it is best to forget I told you this, Herr. We are allies, Japan and Deutschland. I would hate for some mongrel Burmese to bring harm to an ally." The officer looked nervous. Tokyo was a long way away, out here in the jungle. ,, "You shall pass. But please, ask Mister Ting to provide papers for you. Other officers man this checkpoint..." ,, "And they may not be as wise. I understand." The German nodded. The Japanese officer nodded in turn and stepped back, waving a hand to his men to raise the checkpoint barrier. ,, "Danke." the German said with a smile as he started off again, passing the checkpoint into the small border town of Wan-Ting. ,, It was a trade post grown large over the years, situated on the Burma Road and swollen with the constant traffic back and forth. In recent years, though, the traffic was lessened, the constant trade along the route drying up since the Japanese occupation of China. The legitimate trade, anyway. The trade in opium, slaves and weapons was brisker than ever, and Pok Ma Ting owned most of it. And he would probably decorated a stake with the driver's own head and genitals, the driver reflected as he turned a corner onto the main market street of Wan-Ting and looked for a likely place to park. The fact that he knew Pok would probably only make the process slower and more drawn-out. ,, How did I get into this? James LaHaye, Capt, DCM, DFC, AFC, thought to himself as he pulled the jeep in behind a ramshackle looking hotel, now turned into a bar and probably a knocking-shop as well. He grabbed his kitbag from amidst the clutter in the back of the jeep and headed inside. Oh yes, I remember. He looked around the dank, smoke-stinking, gloomy interior of the bar and ,, Family. That's how. ,, * * * * * * The girl was really skilled, her brown skin gleaming in the lamplight as she smiled and swayed above him, and LaHaye was just laying back (but hardly thinking of England) and admiring the way her gyrations caused all sorts of pleasant sensations when the door shuddered under a heavy knock. ,, "Go away!" he called. ,, "Captain LaHaye? My name is Major Justin Tunbridge." an educated voice called through the door over the delicate moans of the girl. ,, "My apologies. Go away, sir!" LaHaye called back. Typical, a man was on his vinegar strokes and that was when someone had to try and- The door was kicked in by a booted foot. The girl screamed, but LaHaye's arm kept her from rolling off him. Instead, he rolled with her and came up onto his feet, pistol in hand and leveled at the doorway. The sergeant who had kicked in the door goggled at the sight of the female flesh and then double-goggled at the sight of a .45 automatic pointing at his face. ,, "Captain!" A slim figure, immaculately dressed and turned-out and wearing an officer's cap. "Lower your weapon." He paused. "Both of them, if you please." ,, "The last time someone kicked the door in on me, you must appreciate that they did not mean me well." LaHaye said calmly as he dropped the pistol onto the bed, shielding the girl's body with his own as he snatched up a sheet to wrap her in. "Ka mya, Thiri." he told her gently as he made sure she was decent. "Shin ne-kaùn-yéh-là?" ,, "Ne-kaùn-ba-deh." she replied, smiling shyly at him before throwing a distrustful look to the soldiers and grabbing her clothes. "Kan kaung ba zay." she murmured to him before giving him a last smile and slipping from the room. The major and sergeant stepped aside politely for her, then turned back to LaHaye as he pulled his clothes on. ,, "You speak the language like a native." Tunbridge noted with a trace of admiration as he crossed to the window. Outside, the courtyard of the rundown colonial house that was now a whorehouse was overrun with half-naked children and their mothers. "Any of those yours?" he asked as he looked back over his shoulder at LaHaye. ,, "Who knows?" the Dynamic shrugged into his shirt and buttoned it with deft motions. He moved with eerily precise, flowing grace, the entire act of dressing taking maybe thirty seconds. "The women here know of a certain root. Supposedly, they only have children if they want to... Or if the tea they make isn't strong enough." He came over to the window and joined the major in looking at the spectacle beyond. "Maybe that one." he pointed to a paler-skinned child. "But then, he could be anyone's. Mostly, though, they are their mothers children, not the various father's." ,, "Curious attitude." the Major observed. ,, "I'm a curious person, but then I'm sure the file tells all." LaHaye smirked sardonically. "Sir, I'm likely to live out the century, or beyond, barring accidents. I will still be this young-seeming when your grandchildren, and may you have many of them, are dead. If I have children, I'll likely outlive them too. As yet, I'm not sure how to handle that thought, so I don't think about it." ,, "Practical, one supposes. Well, I see the tales were not exaggerated." Tunbridge nodded as though satisfied. "His Majesty's government has an assignment for you, Captain. A hunting expedition." ,, "Go on." LaHaye said as he pulled on his boots and fished a cigarillo out from a case. He offered one to Tunbridge, who declined, and lit it with a match struck from his boot. ,, "Three men, British soldiers. Deserters, actually. They faced the death sentence recently after a court martial." ,, "That nasty business over the American nurse, wasn't it?" LaHaye said as he blew a smoke ring. "Filthy buggers. So some rabbited?" ,, "Yes, but that isn't enough alone to warrant calling on your services." ,, "Of course not." LaHaye said, one corner of his mouth turned up in a cynical smirk. "After all, she was only a negro, correct?" Tunbridge opened his mouth to protest, but LaHaye waved a hand at him. "On with it, sir." he said, an expression of profound world-weariness settling on him. ,, "We would have organised a hunt for them regardless." Tunbridge retorted stiffly. "However one of the men was a sergeant in the quartermaster's office. And we believe they took with them some valuable paperwork regarding our troop deployments and supply dumps. And they ran straight for the border to China." ,, "Lovely. Rapists, cowards and traitors." James snorted blue smoke. "What makes them think the Japanese won't simply take the information then snickersnee their heads off. They have a strange but strict definition of honor, that lot." ,, "Our local sources tell us that they've ingratiated themselves with local bandits, who will probably act as brokers in this deal. The Japanese forces in that area liaise heavily with elements that the Chinese government previously suppressed." ,, "That means Pok Ma Ting." LaHaye said with a sigh. "I can't believe nobody has slit that fiendish little brown swine's throat yet. He's got to be eighty years old now." ,, "You know him." The major looked astonished. ,, "Oh yes." ,, "Well wonderful. You can maybe negotiate-" LaHaye shook his head slowly, but definitely. ,, "He wants to use my privy parts for an ornament." he said, then added. "And he won't be slow about removing them." ,, "Ah." ,, "There was a woman involved. His fifth wife." ,, "Aaah. But that was a while ago?" the officer asked hopefully. ,, "Well, fifteen years or so. But there was also an opium shipment..." ,, "So negotiation is out." ,, "Quite." LaHaye stood and stretched. "But that's alright. I dislike him almost as much. He's a slaver, and I can't abide slavery." ,, "So you have a plan?" The major asked as the Dynamic strode towards the doorway. ,, "Yes. I plan to go and find Thiri and take up where we were interrupted." ,, "I meant about the plans." The major said with a hint of exasperation. LaHaye shot him a grin. ,, "Yes. I plan to make it up as I go along." He gave the officer a jaunty wave. "Toodles." ,, * * * * * * "Can I help you?" The wizened old lady asked the European in the local bastardisation of Burmese and Chinese. ,, "A room please." James answered in the same tongue, and gently caught her hand as she turned back with the key. "Is Pok Ma Ting still king of Four Dragons Street?" ,, "Pok Ma Ting always king of Four Dragons Street." she answered sourly. "And he does not like white men." Her sour manner brightened when LaHaye placed a silver coin on the counter. ,, "Pok Ma Ting likes nobody." James said with a smile. She nodded. ,, "This is true, except if they make him rich. Then he likes them plenty, for awhile." she turned and shuffled out from behind the counter. "Come, I show you room. You want girl? Boy? Pipe?" ,, "No to the second two, but maybe a girl. Later." he replied as he followed her upstairs.
  6. In the western outskirts of Berlin, surrounded by barbed wire-tipped fences, guard towers and large garrison military base, is a place called Justizvollzugsanstalt Plötzensee. Built in the late 1800's on the estates of Plötzensee Manor, it was designed as a place where criminals deserving of execution were sent for their final days on Earth. It is an imposing place, a place of despair and death, and the miasma of half a century of it's grim purpose hangs over the stone-built compound like a cloud. Though so much changed in Germany since the rise of the Third Reich, for Plötzensee it is business as usual. Men are still sent here to die at the hands of the state, only now political as well as criminal inmates populate the bleak grey cells. ,, But there is another side to the prison, an underside. For the cellars of the manor itself have been extended, and deepened, and turned into a second prison beneath the ground. Here are kept prisoners that the Reich wants no-one to know about. Above ground, inmates are examples: do not stray from the path or you will end up here. Down below, one simply disappears. No one ever hears about them again. No one will see them be executed, or visit them in your cell. In fact, people who were believed to be executed in the prison above have re-appeared down below, as they are simply too valuable to lose permanently... for now. A quick trial and execution for the Very Important Prisoner above, then a long, drawn out series of sessions with the Gestapo's finest in Plötzensee Below. ,, But past the cells, past the well-lit interrogation rooms with the drains in the middle of the floors, past the guards with the Dobermans and Schmiesser machineguns, at the end of the main arterial 'road' through Plötzensee Below, is a special cell. ,, It is divided into two parts. The first is a security station, a small room barely eight feet across. Triple-paned, impact resistant glass, a product of the finest Dynamic minds of the Reich, forms a window along one wall, that starts at waist height and stops short of the airlock system at the far end. This door is the only entrance to the second half of the cell - and it's occupant. The second half of the cell is worthy of note for its unusual composition. A room fully 15 feet cubed, it is flooded, a sealed tank of ice cold water. A drain on the floor is currently closed, and the only other fixture to the cell is the triple-tubing, flexible and strong, that runs down from the cell's ceiling and into the diving suit that contains the cell's inmate. In the watch-room, two guards are on duty all the time. Monitor dials on the wall give readings on the water's temperature, and a pair of wheels controls the drain in the floor, which is also the means by which the room is flooded. The guards, actually Gestapo, watch the prisoner carefully, making notes on any action he takes, however insignificant it seems. The room is only drained once a day, under heavy supervision by two Dynamics stationed here for that purpose. Then the young man inside the suit is allowed out, allowed to stretch and shower before once again clambering back into the cleaned suit and resuming his imprisonment. ,, Right now, he watches the men beyond the glass, his softly-glowing eyes two sparks of molten flame behind the thick glass of his diving helmet. He has been here for three years, though in truth he is not too sure of that. He knows he must have been here awhile, as he was only a boy when they locked him in the suit, and he has grown since. The captivity doesn't seem to have slowed down his growth or his development, but that is hardly surprising to the youth. After all, he is one of the ubermenschen, the Dynamics. That is why he is here, that is why they do not kill him out of hand when there is a chance of breaking him. Of course, there is no chance of that, the youth knows in his heart. He is as temperamental as the element he commands, as destructive as any wildfire. But he does not bother to disabuse the facists of their plan - after all, it gives him time. ,, Time is what he plays for. Time is why he chokes down the rising panic he feels every time the water rises over his head and he is again trapped. Time is his ally. With enough time, those he cares about will be dead, or the Nazis will make a fatal mistake, and he will again be free. And once he is free... ,, Some men, when imprisoned, care for birds or small creatures. Others compose music in their heads, or write novels and poems, or construct palaces in dreams. The Dynamic who is still mostly a young man called Valentin has no such... creative urges. He watches the pallid, corpselike men beyond the thick glass and dreams of seeing their flesh roasting, of smelling the smoke of this whole foul prison in flames. He dreams elaborate dreams of destruction and divine retribution. He wants to release the hate and anger and rage he feels in his breast, a smoldering ember needing just a breath of air to surge into being. He dreams of the freedom to live, to dance... ,, To burn. ,, To burn everything.
  7. Then ,, "Daniel, are you home?" ,, Carol frown at the living room of her dorm. The lights were all turned down low - unusual for mid-morning on a Sunday – but she could see Daniel framed by the window, sitting in the easy chair. She flipped the light switch, and caught Daniel's expression, and gently set her pack down. ,, "What's wrong?" ,, "Nothing. I'm fine." ,, Daniel didn't look fine. Beyond the soot and ash that everyone regularly seemed to wear since the attack, he clearly looked downcast, staring into the middle distance with a fretful expression on his face. Everything on the outside had changed with Daniel, to the point it rendered him unrecognizable, but Carol could still read his mood. She knew he was upset. ,, "Daniel..." She walked towards him. "C'mon." ,, "It's no big deal. Nothing worth getting upset over." ,, "Mmm." Carol nodded. She went into the kitchen, pouring herself and Daniel a glass or orange juice. She came back out and set the glasses down on the table, then took a seat on the couch. ,, "Well, tell me about it anyways. I like talking to you." It was true, of course. Carol did like talking to Daniel. She wasn't sure if she liked doing more than talking, but right now, talking was good. ,, "If you really want to know..." She sighed. "It's so petty." ,, "Tell me anyways." ,, "Someone groped me today." ,, Carol blinked. "What? Who?" ,, "Just some man. I pulled him out from the rubble and I checked him out and he had a broken leg, so I set him on a table and got ready for takeoff and that's when I felt his hand on my boob." Daniel shifted in his seat. "Granted, they're hard to miss..." ,, "Don't. Don't you dare blame yourself." ,, Daniel sighed. "Wanted to throw him through a wall, but he was dying. I got him to the hospital anyways. But dammit, I felt so..." He shook his head. ,, "You thought this was petty? You didn't want to talk about it?" ,, "Like I said, I could throw him through a wall. It's not like he could really hurt me. I have superpowers! I don't know anyone who has superpowers. It feels so small of me to whine about that when I'm not even hurt..." ,, "You're upset. You're allowed to be upset, even if you can fly. I mean, look what you did with that gift – you stopped a rocket attack and you're out there every day finding people who need help. I think you're allowed to get upset when someone pays you back like that." ,, "Even if that's the case, it's not anything women don't go through every day." ,, Carol leaned back in the couch, frowning. She sighed. "Well, you're right about that." ,, "I think I just sound like some... some privileged snob, whenever I complain about what you and Jenny go through. I mean, I can fly. Even if I'm a woman now, all that means is I go through what you were going through while I was too dumb to see. What do I have to complain about?" ,, "Well, when it happens to me? I complain. I vent. I talk about it with Jenny and we cuss that asshole out behind his back because we'd probably taste the back of his hand if we did it to his face and once I've cussed him out I feel better and it's a little easier. I don't tell myself that I'm lucky because there are starving war orphans in Europe, even if it's true. I just vent and I let off steam and I feel better." ,, "Have you ever cussed me out?" ,, "Not too often. I mean, there's the one time recently, before, you know..." She waved towards Daniel's body. "All this." ,, "Yeah. All this." Daniel closed his eyes. "Carol, today's the first day since the lab accident that I wished that 'all this' hadn't happened." ,, "Ah." Carol nodded. She took a drink of her orange juice. "You didn't before?" ,, "Well, I've been kind of busy..." ,, "Yeah, but I know you've had some quiet moments since then. I know you think faster. I'd have figured, well... well, if it had happened to me, I'd be freaking out." ,, "You'd freak out if you had bigger boo - " ,, "Not that way! If I was a super-powered guy." Carol rolled her eyes. "Thanks for reminding me how jealous I am, by the way." ,, "Any time." Daniel managed a smile. "No, I freaked out, but people needed help, and I put it aside and did what I could. And when I got some quiet moments, I went back over everything that happened and I realized that I was mostly okay with it. I mean, yeah, fine, it's a big, big change. But it's a good one in a lot of ways. I think more clearly now. I see things differently. And flying? My God, Carol, we should go do that sometime. When I'm up there I feel more free than I ever did in my life. Compared to that, most of the time, being a woman now is nothing more than humbling. I can handle a little humbling. Most days." ,, "Just not today." ,, "Nope." ,, Carol nodded. "I'm sorry he did that to you. He's a pig." ,, "He was." Daniel looked out the window. "Didn't deserve to die in a rocket attack, though." ,, "Nope." ,, "You said that this happened to you?" ,, "Oh! Yeah. It was before we met. A cop chased me. Grabbed me right here." She pointed to her left breast. "I didn't say a word. I just cried, and everyone thought I was crying because I felt guilty about stealing a candy bar." ,, "... wait, is this the story you told me about how you stole a candy bar?" ,, "Yeah, but I think a cop grabbing my boob is worse than me stealing an Aero." ,, "Now I remember. This was just after you moved here from the U.S., right? You were addicted to Aero bars and didn't have any pocket money left." ,, "You ever had an American candy bar? Aeros are like an orgasm in your - " Carol laughed as Daniel turned beet red. "I'm glad I can still do that to you, at least." ,, "Yeah, I'm not really ready to talk about orgasms yet." Daniel loosened his shirt a bit. "I feel a little better. Thanks." ,, "You know, I was about to head to church. You should join me. You might like it." ,, Daniel refrained from rolling his eyes. "C'mon, Carol, you know I don't go in for that stuff..." ,, "They're doing a service for the people who were hurt in the attack." ,, "I'm glad. I really am. I just don't do the whole church thing. I'm agnostic." ,, "I know, I know. Come with me anyways. Do that thing with the glasses. I'll lend you some nicer clothes. You should meet more people than just me, Jenny, Conrad and Doctor Neufeld." ,, Daniel pursed his lips, then dug around in his pocket for his glasses. "Okay. Because you asked, and because you listened to me whine about being a woman. I'll go." ,, * * * ,, So Daniel put on his glasses, and pulled in on himself, and Carol went with "Danielle" to Knox United Church, in the downtown core of Calgary. ,, There was a collection plate, the totality of which was going towards the victims of the rocket attack, and Daniel found himself putting his last forty dollars in the plate. He didn't really need to eat any more, and other people did, and that was all there was to it. ,, Then the priest – or pastor, the man of the cloth, Daniel could never keep the nomenclature straight – asked everyone to bow their heads in prayer, and give thanks unto the Lord. Because Daniel didn't want to stand out like a sore thumb, Daniel lowered his head, closed his eyes, and spent the time thinking. ,, Okay, all right. What are you thankful for, Daniel Finn? ,, The prayer commenced, and Daniel mouthed along, while his thoughts turned to other matters. Well, I'm grateful for the few years I was allowed to be openly agnostic without everyone whispering about I was a godless slut. I guess I'm thankful for that. No, I'm actually thankful that Carol doesn't drag me to these things most of the time and is fine with me not being sure about God. ,, Also, I'm thankful that I was able to save her. And Conrad. And Jenny. And everyone else, really. ,, I'm also thankful that I can fly. I'm thankful that I can lift a car. I'm thankful that I can see so much more of what something is, just by looking at it. I'm thankful of how wonderful the world looks to me now. I'm thankful that I can go up far enough to see the curvature of the Earth. ,, And I'm thankful for... Daniel paused, unsure of the confession, even to himself. ,, Well, I don't know if I'm thankful for being a woman. But I'm thankful for a chance to learn what it's like to be one. I'm thankful for the past ten days and how eye-opening they've been. I'm thankful that I can look back on who I was and wince in embarrassment because I think it means I'm better than that now. I'm thankful I lived through the accident. I'm glad I got a chance to be a better person. I'm glad that Carol thinks I've grown. Maybe it means I actually have. ,, The prayer concluded. Eyes opened, and backs straightened, and a few minutes later, the service concluded. ,, "Feel better?" asked Carol, as they struggled into their winter coats. ,, "Yeah. Actually, I do. Thanks." ,, "Are you ready to accept Jesus Christ as your – just kidding." Carol held her hands up as Daniel raised a finger, ready to pontificate. "I'm glad you came anyways." ,, "Me too. Ah. Carol...?" ,, "Yes, Danielle?" ,, "What're you doing tonight?" ,, ,, * * ,, ,, Now ,, "What are you doing?" ,, She looked up at the sound. The man was a little bruised and bloody, but conscious, in contrast to the other dozen men lying around the makeshift base. The woman held in her hands an assault rifle, pointed at no one. Moonlight was the only illumination left, and it shone through a window. He'd pulled himself into a sitting position, but wasn't about to risk more than that. ,, "I didn't know you spoke English." She pressed her hands together, crumpling the gun into so much scrap. She tossed it on the pile, then picked up another. ,, "I speak a little." The man wore a German army uniform. He admired her as she moved - she had a body perfect in every way, including blonde hair and blue eyes – popular features where he came from. He was far from home, out in the countryside, away from all the pretty girls he'd never see again. Despite knowing he was about to die, the soldier couldn't bring himself to hate this angel of destruction. She smiled a lot. ,, She crushed another gun into a paperweight. "You should have spoken up. You could have surrendered." ,, "Did not think you would take me alive." ,, "Well, good news is you were wrong." ,, "How did you find us?" ,, "By accident, believe it or not. I saw the tank treads from the air. I was on my way somewhere else." ,, "Where?" ,, "You know I can't tell you." She crushed the last of their rifles, then started in on the pile of guns. ,, "What is with this pile of scrap you are making our guns into?" ,, "Well, I can't let you just walk out of here with your guns and going back to killing Allied soldiers, can I? And I'm a little too busy to haul you all back with me to a POW camp like I'd normally do. So I'm going to leave you with this - " She pulled a bayonet off one rifle, and set it on the ground. "And you're going to head back that way. You have enough rations in what's left of the tank - " ,, "What's left of the tank?" ,, "I kind of tied it in a knot. But if you need more you can hunt with that. You head back the way you came. You can lay low until the war's over. Or you can re-enlist and hope the next Allied company doesn't kill you before you kill them." ,, "You are joking. You'll kill us while we sleep." ,, Danielle shook her head. "No." ,, "You'll kill us while we walk, or starve us out - " ,, "No." Her voice was firm. "I don't joke about something this serious. You have a second chance here. I would hate for you to waste it, because you successfully lied to yourself about my intentions." ,, "If I was an ubermenschen I can tell you, I would kill you." ,, "Well. Hopefully someday you'll change your mind about that." ,, "Why are you doing this? At least tell me that." ,, Danielle thought for a long moment. She stole a glance out the window, looking out at the gorgeous moonlit night, and remembered another one like it, not too long ago. Danielle – well, still calling herself Daniel, and still thinking of herself as himself – and Carol, the latter in all her warmest clothes, flying high enough to kiss the clouds. She thought of what she'd been thankful for on the day leading into that perfect Sunday evening. ,, "Take it from me." She knelt, meeting him at eye level. "There's nothing more precious than a chance to change your mind. If you're dead? Then that's it. No more chances. And call me a softie, but I don't like taking that away from anyone." ,, "You are a softie." He chuckled, his gaze drifting downwards. "Very softie from where I'm standing." ,, "One chance." She held up her finger. "Nothing more than a chance to be better. That's all I can spare tonight. When I come back this way, I'm going to take anyone still left behind into a POW camp. I'll remember your faces, don't worry about that. If I see you again and you still have that uniform on, I'll have no sympathy left at all. It's just a uniform. It's not you." ,, Knockout stood up. She picked up the pile of guns-turned-scrap. "Going to go throw these in the ocean. Don't be here when I get back." She turned towards the window, and without a further word, flew through it. ,, The man stared at the open window for a long time afterwards, waiting for her to come back. He thought of what he'd say to the men when they awoke, of what they would do next. He compiled a list of who would opt to keep their heads down and who would go back out to the front. He wondered with weird fascination just what a Tiger tank would look like tied into a knot. ,, But mostly he thought of smiling faces, and realized just how much he wanted to see them again. ,, (EDIT: References to Danielle's codename edited out.)
  8. "Carol! Wait up, hon." ,, At the sound of his voice, the young woman stopped in mid-step, and sighed, hunching her shoulders. She pulled back the hood of her winter coat to reveal short brown hair, pale skin with freckles, and light green eyes. The man running after her across the snow-covered university grounds was equally fair skinned, as Canadians often were in the wintertime. ,, She turned around as they young man closed the distance. She folded her arms. "I have nothing to say to you, Daniel Finn." ,, "C'mon, Carol, don't be like that..." ,, "Don't be like - " Carol bit her tongue. "I have to get to class." ,, "C'mon, Carol, what'd I do wrong? It was just a joke!" ,, "A joke." ,, "Yeah! Me and the guys, we're just having fun." ,, "You made mooing noises at Jenny! She put on less than twenty pounds, in winter, and you and the rest of those jerks you pal around with still make fun of her weight! In the middle of the cafeteria, in front of everyone!" ,, "Well - well - " Now it was Daniel's turn to bite his tongue. "Come on, we didn't mean nothing by it..." ,, "Daniel, she cried all night. I got no sleep at all because I was sure she was going to kill herself. I'm pretty sure she's sticking a finger down her throat again." ,, "She – what?" Daniel turned pale. "Carol..." ,, "And I have a really tough class, so please. Drop it." ,, "I – okay. All right." Daniel blew out through his lips, and ran his fingers through greased blonde hair. "Still don't think that it's something to break up over..." ,, Carol didn't say anything. ,, "Did you really think she'd try to, you know?" ,, "She tried it once before. Her brother used to – well, she got good at covering up bruises." ,, "He what? I – that son of a bitch. Is he living here in Calgary? I'll lay him right out - " ,, "He's not. It wouldn't do anything." ,, "Why didn't she talk to her mom and pop about it? Wouldn't they, you know, put a stop to it?" ,, "She did, Daniel." Carol look at her watch, and sighed. "But it didn't do any good. So she tried to jump off a bridge." ,, "Why didn't it - " ,, "Because you know us girls, Daniel. We like to make up our little stories. We like to talk behind your back and spin little lies about where we got the bruises and why – and why we cry over nothing. She told them. They didn't believe her. Because guess what, Daniel, most of the time you put a man's word up against a woman's, people will take the man's word. They'll take him at his word and go right back to telling her she should wear her hair down more or try and lose a couple of pounds." ,, "I didn't know." Daniel involuntarily took a step back. "Carol, doll, believe me, I swear I never would have said a word if I'd known - " ,, "No, you didn't know. I know. But Daniel, you still hurt her. You can still hurt someone without even thinking about it. You know that, right?" ,, "Yeah. Carol, believe me, I really am sorry." ,, "You should apologize to her in person. And Daniel? Maybe you should think about what it's like to be a woman for just one day. Just think about it for one day. If you're serious about why you want to get into the law, then you're going to have a lot of women clients. You should think about what it's like for them if you're going to represent them. And more than that, you should just think about it more, period." ,, Daniel said nothing. Carol looked at her watch again, and sighed. "Now, I don't know if you remember, but there's a war on. I need to get to class. We need nurses out there. We need doctors too, but I was three percentage points shy of the 90% I needed on my admittance exam, so nursing it is." ,, "Can – can we talk later?" ,, "I'm still mad at you. But... we'll see." Carol sighed. "I have to go. Bye for now." ,, "See you later." Daniel watched her go, light gray parka blending into the snow-filled landscape of the college grounds. ,, He replayed the events of the cafeteria in his head all the way back to his dorm, and they didn't leave him for the rest of the day.
  9. Magnum Opus Real Name: Daniel Finn Assumed Name: Danielle Waters Nature: Caregiver ATTRIBUTES Physical (Sec) Mental (Pri) Social (Ter) STR ••••/••• - Well-Built DEX ••/• STA •••/• PER •••/• INT •••/• WIT ••••/• - Empathic APP ••••/•• MAN •• CHA •• Abilities (23 dots) Strength: Might • Dexterity: Athletics ••, Drive •• Stamina: Endurance •••, Resistance ••• Perception: Awareness •, Navigation •• Intelligence: Academics ••• (Law, Philosophy) Linguistics • (French,) Science • Wits: Arts •, Biz ••, Rapport •• Appearance: Disguise •, Style •, Perform • Manipulation: Diplomacy •• Charisma: Etiquette • Allies •• Ætherfiber ••••• Cipher ••••• Resources •• Willpower: 6 Quantum: 3 Bonus Points: (15) Speciality: Law, Philo 2 Willpower +3: 6 Backgrounds +7 7 Quantum Powers: - Mega-Strength •••: Precision - Mega-Dexterity •: Fast Tasks - Mega-Stamina •: Adaptation - Mega-Perception •: Holographic Awareness - Mega-Intelligence •: Self-Analysis - Mega-Wits •: Natural Empath - Mega-Appearance ••: Miss Nobody - Flight • - Armor • - Quantum Bolt (Bashing; Kinetic Energy) • Nova Points: 40 Mega-Strength •••: 9 Mega-Appearance ••: 6 Mega-Dex •: 3 Mega-Stamina •: 3 Mega-Perception •: 3 Mega-Intelligence •: 3 Mega-Wits •: 3 Flight •: 3 Armor •: 3 Quantum Bolt •: 3 3 Regular Atts: 1 XP Tracker: Debut: March 4th, 2013 Signal From The Noise: April, May 2013 30 Unspent XP
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