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Mutants & Masterminds: Lake City Universe - M&M 3E - LCU: The Home of Heroes (IC)


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October 7th, 2011 5:00 pm

The corner of 27th and Blackwell is pretty famous in Lake City, since it's been associated with the Ramblers Baseball Club since 1933; Calumet Park's favorite sons first went to bat against the Chicago White Stockings on a rainy April afternoon in old Springer Field, losing to Chicago 14-6, setting a trend that would last for decades. The American League's 'lovable losers' would struggle for years to achieve some sort of respectability, and things stayed pretty much the same once they switched to the National League in '96.

Across 27th stands the former Augustus Steinmetz Piano Company, a solid five story building with thick oak floors and heavy masonry construction dating back to 1889; Kolansky Development Partners, the current owners of the block, did extensive remodeling when they purchased the building in 2004, the same year ground was broken for the new stadium.

Four remarkable individuals have been invited to head to the third floor this day; they find the remodeled lobby to feature dark wood paneling and antique brass lighting fixtures. There's a single metal reinforced door with a peephole and security buzzer, and an old fashioned elevator, complete with the wrought iron grate. On the wall is a sign:

DIRECTORY

FIRST FLOOR - MARSH ELECTRONICS

SECOND FLOOR - KOLANSKY DEVELOPMENT PARTNERS

THIRD FLOOR - KDP INTERNATIONAL

FOURTH FLOOR - KDP INTERNATIONAL

FIFTH FLOOR - SUNDANCER YOGA STUDIO

ALL DELIVERIES GO TO REAR DOCK

There is a slightly musty smell in the air, laced with hints of furniture polish and hot solder.

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Black car. Black suit. Black sunglasses. Black tie. Anybody who saw the man making his way into the old Stienmetz Piano building and didn't think he was a government agent was probably blind. Special Agent Gerald Samson, badge number 3747, stopped on the sidewalk and looked up. The five story industrial building had the rigid sturdiness of age and quality construction; they just didn't make them like this anymore. Gary's mouth quirked down and he looked at the GPS directions on his oPhone again. Tucking the slim device back into his coat pocket he mounted the steps and entered the small lobby. Third floor - KDP International, the sign read. Agent Samson called the elevator.

Gary was just shy of six feet tall, just shy of a hundred and fifty pounds, and just shy of attractive. He'd once been described as pleasingly bland, which was hardly complimentary, but also entirely accurate. Only his steely blue-gray eyes were truly remarkable; a window into the mind of a man who carried more force of will and wisdom than his youthful features suggested. He checked his watch, a black and chrome analog affair that was almost anachronistic in this day and age. It was exactly five. He nodded to himself, and waited.

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The elevator opened into a small modern office, decorated in neutral tones of gray, beige and ivory; there was a sleek desk with a computer terminal, a boxy gray leather couch with matching boxy chairs and a low glass-topped coffee table stacked with month old sports, news and entertainment magazine. Silver letters along the back wall boldly stated 'KDP INTERNATIONAL' without any sort of real character; in fact the whole effect of the room was a cipher.

A door opened and a pretty young woman stepped out; at the sight of the new arrival, she started visibly and nearly dropped her iced coffee.

"Oh, I'm sorry!"

She looked up at a wall clock and cringed.

"Ah, of course; some people actually show up on time for their appointments..."

Setting down her coffee, she took a seat and woke up her computer; she looked to be in her early twenties, with long straight strawberry blond hair. Her dress was at the low end of business casual, a stylish denim vest over a white turtleneck, with a matching denim skirt and pink high-fashion canvas sneakers. Adjusting her horn-rimmed glasses, she peered at a set of folders on the screen, then clicked on one of them.

"So you would be...Special Agent Samson?"

One the folder opened up, she quickly scanned the contents, which made her slightly pale; she tried to pass it off as nothing, but then apparently thought the better of it as she nervously shrugged.

"I'm sorry; my mom always said everyone feels guilty around cops and priests. I guess it's the same with telepaths, huh?"

She indicated the seating area with a wave of her hand.

"Please have a seat while we wait for the others. Can I get you a coffee or a soda? My name is Kiki, by the way."

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Gary offered an apologetic smile, as if it were truly his fault, "It doesn't work that way." He looked around, taking the office in quickly. "I'd have to actually try and read your mind, and I won't do that without your permission, or a warrant, or grave need," he said, his eyes taking in the details, the desk with the computer, the clock on the wall, analog like his watch, more stylish, but more old fashioned as well, and the comfortable but bland furnishings and decor. He moved to the desk and offered his hand, "A pleasure Kiki. And yes, I am Special Agent Gerald Samson, but please call me Gary." He looked around, no coffee machine, no refrigerator, "Do you have water?"

She took his hand and shook it, if she had any further reservations about him, about his nature, she didn't show it. "Of course, just a moment," the woman replied getting up from her desk and exiting via the door she had entered by. She returned quickly and handed Gary a bottle of spring water, "I hope that's ok?"

"This will be fine, thank you." Gary sat down and took a long slow drink from the bottle. "I haven't yet me the others," he commented from his seat, "Hopefully they aren't usually tardy." She smiled back at him, a shrug of her shoulders telling him what he expected; she didn't know either. With grunt of resignation he leaned forward to grab a magazine from the table before him, and settled in for what he hoped would be a short wait.

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A streak of red raced through the city, moving at just under the threshold where sound became a weapon. The figure was a familiar one in recent weeks; the superhero Blitz was new to the city but far from subtle and she was becoming a known persona. This time, the streak ended at the doors of the former Augustus Steinmetz Piano Company, but only long enough for the briefly visible slim girl to open the doors. Then she was gone, disappearing inside the building.

The elevator was occupied, so rather than wait, Blitz ran up the stairs to the third floor. She popped into the room, saw the two people waiting for her and zipped to the desk. To the others in the room, she had been just a blur of color; it was only when she stopped, her slim derriere perched on the edge of the desk and her legs neatly crossed, could they see her. She was young; that much was clear even with the mask she wore. Her costume was form-fitting red leather pants and top; the shirt had a logo of a missile firing from right to left in gold and orange across her chest. Her boots were just as red as the rest of her outfit; the toe of one bounced at roughly 200 rpm as she grinned and waved at the two people. "Hi!" she chirped, running her fingers through her tangled blonde hair. Green eyes twinkled with mischief and good cheer as she added, "Man, my clock is slow! I swear that I left home on time to be here! Man, am I gonna get a demerit or something for being late? That would suck."

Without giving either of them a chance to answer that, she said, "I'm Blitz! Who're you? Our new secretary and... our handler, right?"

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Gary had no sooner opened the magazine than a gust of wind blew it out of his hands. It fell to the floor quietly, already forgotten as Gary looked up in surprise at the young woman sitting on Kiki's desk. She looked young, very young, though the mask made it difficult to judge definitively. "Hi! Man, my clock is slow! I swear that I left home on time to be here! Man, am I gonna get a demerit or something for being late? That would suck." Without giving either of them a chance to answer that, she said, "I'm Blitz! Who're you? Our new secretary and... our handler, right?"

"No," he said slowly. Gary recovered quickly, but weighed his thoughts and his response carefully before replying; to the young speedster he must have seemed ponderous. "Actually, maybe, I'm not entirely sure how this will work." He stood up, his hand already out to offer it to the young woman, but he barely made it more than one step toward the desk before she was standing before him pumping his hand. "I'm Special Agent Gerald Samson, but call me Gary if you like."

"Wow. OK! So you're a fed huh? Sounds like you're gonna be our handler to me."

Gary blinked, he hadn't considered that, but then he only knew that the FBI wanted to get their XP agent out of the FBI limelight. Attached to this new Lake City group they hoped he wouldn't stand out against the more overt specials. "Well, that is a good point," he said reclaiming his hand, "but I'm an XP as well, so that's where things get fuzzy. Or messy. Maybe both."

"Really? What can you do? What's your gift?" girlish excitement mixed with metahuman speed made it come out quickly and Blitz found herself repeating the question at Gary's request.

"I'm a telepath," he replied easily. Gary was not uncomfortable with his inborn gifts, and it was his opinion that it would be better to know if anybody he was to work with would feel uncomfortable about his gifts. A number of dates had ended before they had begun because of his willingness to admit to his powers, but as he saw it, better up front than later on. Better to deal with intolerance before anything happened that could be claimed as forced or coerced. He waited, and watched, for her reaction.

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"Oh!"

Kiki's fast but still all-too-human reflexes kicked in as she barely managed to grab her iced coffee before it was blown over by the sudden gust announcing Blitz's presence. It took her a few seconds to regain her composure enough to address the young (very young, from the look of it) woman's questions.

"Hi Blitz, I'm Kiki."

She offered her hand to shake; her grip was warm and firm. The redhead's glance flitted between the two XPs.

"As for what I do here, well, it's a little bit of everything, I guess; receptionist, yes, but I also fill in as dispatcher from time to time, and I handle most of the accounting here in the office."

She indicated the elevator with a nod of her head.

"Once the other two get here, you'll meet the rest of Team Stalwart-"

Kiki stopped herself and winced.

"Or whatever we want to call ourselves these days..." She turned to the eager speedster. "So, can I get you anything? We have Gatorade, water, coffee and a wide array of refreshing sodas. I also picked up some coffee cake on the way in."

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A tall, almost thinly built man entered the lobby of the building. With him entered a slight hint of a sulfur smell. The musty smell and some of the remnants of furniture polished seemed to burn off as he made his way toward the elevator. A quick glance told him where he needed to go.

He pressed the button to call the elevator. Placing his hands in the pockets of the pea coat he wore over his white button down shirt tucked into black slacks complete with a dull red tie he waited patiently for the elevator to arrive. His gaze was set firmly on the ground, his dark brown hair was wet and matted down making it look almost black. His mouth made a thin line across his face, dangerously bordering on a frown.

Finally, the elevator arrived, and Russell Buchanan rode it to the third floor.

You know you're going to regret this, right?

He ignored the voices in his head.

---

"Or whatever we want to call ourselves these days..." She turned to the eager speedster. "So, can I get you anything? We have Gatorade, water, coffee and a wide array of refreshing sodas. I also picked up some coffee cake on the way in."

"I wouldn't mind some of that cake." Russell spoke quietly as he stepped out of the elevator. His voice was deep and had a dark moody tone to it. If it weren't for the strange, quiet, excited gleam easily visible in his eyes you'd think he was in a foul mood just from hearing his voice . "And coffee. Black. Please." He added, nearly forgetting his manners.

"Sorry I'm late, it seems it becoming and unfortunate bad habit of mine that I just can't seem to fix." He stepped further into the room, his voice darkening even further with the last comment which actually did seem to place him in bad spirits. Whatever mood he was in didn't last long, thankfully. He stopped between the two newest arrivals, and looked them both up and down briefly. Finally he displayed some hint of positive emotions. A smirk turned the corners of his mouth up, "I apologize. Didn't realize this was a costumed affair. Between the 'Red Scare' and 'Agent Smith'," He nodded to Blitz and the missile on her shirt as well as the 'Black on Slightly Darker Black' look that Gary was sporting, "I suddenly feel under dressed."

I told you: You should have worn the other coat. Terrible first impression.

Shut it, you mutt, Russell thought silently.

He continued his introduction, "I'm Hellhound." His hands remained stuffed firmly into the pockets of his coat, unsure of exactly how he should be doing this he looked at Gary and added, "From the looks of you, you'll probably find out my real name soon enough anyway. You can call me Russ, or Russell if you'd like."

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"A telepath?" Blitz was still grinning and she hadn't recoiled from Samson. "I'd better break out my tinfoil - I make a wicked hat out of it."

To the secretary, she ordered, "Soda, the more sugar the better, and I'll have that cake, too." The girl seemed to almost be vibrating, whether from excitement or from being Blitz was unclear. The only thing that was apparent was that she was a sugar fiend; as if the mention of sweets had reminded her, she pulled out a piece of hard candy, opened it and popped it in her mouth almost faster than Samson could follow. "Candy?" she offered, holding out a small offering of hard sweets to both.

But before further conversation could happen, the third member of their group arrived. Blitz let him run through his introduction, then took a single very deep breath and said, "Hi, nice to meet you Hellhound! Though are we going to need a muzzle for you? Do you bite? Ha! That'd be funny. Your tie works for a collar and leash, though. I'm Blitz, not Red Scare, though you almost make me wish I'd taken that name. But then I'd need to talk with a Russian accent, only I'd forget, and then everyone would be all, 'OMG!! You're not Russian! Red Scare? More like Red Fake' and then I'd have to retire in shame and go commit seppuku somewhere, and I am both too cute and too young to die! Or to retire, for that matter, I mean I can't even legally drink and it'd be a pretty lame retirement party, right, if the guest of honor couldn't even share a toast. Anyway, so we'll stick with Blitz, safer all around. Hello and nice to meet you and would you like some candy? And not in a pervy way - I don't have a van with blocked out windows. Just candy." She beamed at the three people in the room like this was the most exciting thing in the world to ever happen to her - and perhaps it was.

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Gary was glad that Blitz didn't seem put off by his power, it would make working with the young woman easier, and that was already making itself apparent that it would be a handful and a half. The newcomer got showered in the non-stop verbal stream as Blitz's excitement apparently got the best of her. Gary almost missed her joke, and that of the Russel, or Russ, or Hellhound. He committed the names to memory, as best he could, his memory wasn't perfect, but he could control his mind better than most, much like he could control others'.

He waited for an opening and finally offered a hand to the Russ, "Agent Samson actually. FBI. You can call me Gary though, since we're going to be working together." He looked down at the young speedstress, "Not old enough to drink? How old are you, if I might ask?"

She nodded vigorously, "Eighteen, but I totally have special dispensation and a badge and all that to be on the team. Eighteen is adult, just not old enough to drink. I can join the army, I just can buy booze. It's not a big deal though cause booze makes you slow, and why would I want to be slow?"

Gary, well aware of the clichéd image of the humorless Federal Agent, deadpanned, "I can't imagine." He quirked only the slightest hint of a smile before turning back to Hellhound, "So, as you no doubt figured out, Ms., err, Blitz here has rather prodigious speed. I had just explained that I am a telepath, in addition to being a Special Agent." He inclined his head slightly, "And you? With a moniker like Hellhound I expect either fire or fur."

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Naomi pulls up outside of the Augustus Steinmetz Piano Company building riding her motorcycle. It was some pretty bad traffic, and the winds just didn't seem right for a BASE jump from one of the nearby skyscrapers for her usual style of landing. Of course her suit looked like a fancy, stylish motorcycle suit in this mode, and the helmet fit the role to boot. She steps off and with a small control in her pocket she disables the ignition system. The vehicle itself makes a sound like a car's anti-theft system.

She walks up to the front doors and buzzes.

"State your business."

"KDP International. I'm expected for a emergency meeting with the stockholders."

She didn't know if this security person was aware of what was really going on, but this was her best way of keeping a cover, after all... they're supposed to keep some sort of seperation between their day job and their night ones...

"Alright one sec."

The door buzzes and she walks in, seeing the restoration work inside the building, she's reminded of the books on a remarkable piece of architecture lost in Minneapolis that had a similar design pedigree... the Metropolitan Building if she remembered. She takes the stairs, having some pride in the fact she was in shape. The enhanced levels of oxygen in her helmet helped, if but a little. She reaches the third floor and seeing it was indeed a corporate office, she walks in, noticing that the others have already arrived.

"Oh no... I am late, aren't I?" She says, hitting a button on her helmet and having it open up revealing her youthful, yet strikingly intelligent green eyes and otherwise average appearance. Although the yellow and white suit stood out. She adjusts her large backpack a bit. "I had to make sure I had some of my supplies if I was bringing some of my field gear with me... oh how silly of me, I'm Naomi Cartwright... umm... great first day and I already messed up on the secret identity test huh?"

She sighs... she doesn't get to meet people with actual super powers, this whole world as of yet is an unexplored oasis. "err... Superball??" She says with a meek tone, feeling like they were about to say 'your mom pick that codename' or something.

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Gary took a deep, calming, breath. I should have worn my badge like some kind of "Hello My Name Is ..." sticker, he thought with bemusement. "Hi, we were just going through introductions as well. This is Blitz, and this is Hellhound, or Russel, or Russ. I'm Special Agent Gerald Samson, but you can call me Gary. The FBI doesn't give us costumes and super names." He plucked at the black suit and then added, "OK, maybe they do give us costumes..." He looked at the other three and then to Kiki, "It seems that we're all here correct?" Gary wasn't sure what kind of briefing to expect, but unless there was somebody else expected he hoped that they could get things started. While the four waited for Kiki to usher them wherever for the meeting Gary said, "So Hellhound was about to, I hope, tell us what he powers were, and with a name like Superball I'm guessing you ..." he struggled to find a less silly sounding theory and failed, "you bounce?"

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Naomi blushes... "Among... other things. This suit is still a prototype, so it has a lot of idiosyncracies that are slightly... embarassing, but hopefully useful."

She pushes her glasses back up. "My real asset to the team, at least from looking at my dossier is one of playing support for the rest of the team. I'm properly trained as a first responder, quite a pilot, driver, boater... well... anything that moves really, and I am a wiz with technology. Me... It's more of the job, not getting to show off that's important."

"For a second there I thought you wanted a safe, but illustrative demonstration."

She smacks her head. "Oh, I can fly too... although as of now I gotta work on some sort of propulsion since I am pretty much stuck with drifting on the wind for now."

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It seemed that Russell had simply been waiting to figure out the disposition of his new acquaintances before becoming more personable. When the two offered their hands to shake, he chanced another weak smile and pulled his hand from his coat pocket to shake.

"Hi, nice to meet you Hellhound! Though are we going to need a muzzle for you? Do you bite? Ha! ... don't have a van with blocked out windows. Just candy." She beamed at the three people in the room like this was the most exciting thing in the world to ever happen to her - and perhaps it was.

Russell looked positively stunned. He felt for a moment like he was looking into the past. Blitz felt the hand he used to shake with tighten around her own. Just before it became nearly painful, he suddenly released his grip. He seemed to swallow and compose himself. "Sorry. You... You remind me of someone is all." As he turned to shake Gary's hand he added a sideways glance and one last comment, "And yea, I do bite. Sometimes." It was difficult to tell if he was joking or serious.

He waited for an opening and finally offered a hand to the Russ, "Agent Samson actually. FBI. You can call me Gary though, since we're going to be working together." He looked down at the young speedstress, "Not old enough to drink? How old are you, if I might ask?"

She nodded vigorously, "Eighteen, but I totally have special dispensation and a badge and all that to be on the team. Eighteen is adult, just not old enough to drink. I can join the army, I just can buy booze. It's not a big deal though cause booze makes you slow, and why would I want to be slow?"

Barghest: She'd be about 18 by now, don't you think?

Russell visibly flinched, Don't make me get the muzzle, Dog.

Gary, well aware of the clichéd image of the humorless Federal Agent, deadpanned, "I can't imagine." He quirked only the slightest hint of a smile before turning back to Hellhound, "So, as you no doubt figured out, Ms., err, Blitz here has rather prodigious speed. I had just explained that I am a telepath, in addition to being a Special Agent." He inclined his head slightly, "And you? With a moniker like Hellhound I expect either fire or fur."

"Sometimes you get both." Gary felt suddenly hot under the collar during the handshake; he could see Russell's brown eyes glow slightly. That small comment was all Russell offered at the moment The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as another entered the room behind him. The animal inside him took over, abruptly breaking off the handshake, he turned to face the newcomer before moving to the side to line up next to Gary. He didn't like having people at his back.

"I had to make sure I had some of my supplies if I was bringing some of my field gear with me... oh how silly of me, I'm Naomi Cartwright... umm... great first day and I already messed up on the secret identity test huh?"

She sighs... she doesn't get to meet people with actual super powers, this whole world as of yet is an unexplored oasis. "err... Superball??"

"I wouldn't worry too much Naomi. I've already assumed Kiki here, as well as whoever the higher ups are in charge of this thing already know more about us than we've forgotten about ourselves. For my part, my name is Russell. You may also call me Hellhound. Though I suppose we might be better off saving those names for 'official business'. It wouldn't be good to be using code names if we are masquerading as civilians." He regarded Blitz for a quick moment before crossing his arms. "I won't force you to share if you'd rather not. I'm just speaking logically."

"So Hellhound was about to, I hope, tell us what he powers were, and with a name like Superball I'm guessing you ..." he struggled to find a less silly sounding theory and failed, "you bounce?"

Barghest: Don't scare them too much...

Russell: Oh, you're one to talk, Mr. Hellfire Sermons.

Barghest: I've got nothing to hide. I'm just looking out for you.

Russell: Sure you are...

"My powers?" The small curl at the corners of his mouth disappeared, "Sure, I'll show and tell. My powers, such as they are, aren't really mine. It would be more accurate to say that they're on loan. But like I've already said, sometimes you get fur, sometimes you get fire, ..." He held his left arm to the side, he clenched his fingers into a fist at around chest height and it exploded into flame. His eyes glowed bright red, and the room smelled strongly of sulfur. Just as the gout of flame began to lick at the edges of the wool coat he wore, he opened his hand and the flames were gone along with the glow in his eyes. The smell of sulfur lingered a little longer as he smiled again, "... And sometimes I bite."

"It should be obvious why I'm here. If we are going to have to work together, and if we are going to have to deal with any sort of violent criminals or other exceptional persons, I'm betting that it'll be me going toe to toe. None of the rest of you seem built for it." He eyed the others, guaging their reactions, "And Gary? If you have any controll over that telepathy of yours, then I'll offer you a friendly warning. You may want to avoid trying to read my mind. My 'thoughts' are not always my own, and you might not like what you hear." Despite the seemingly dangerous display of his powers, and despite all of his forboding, Russell seemed in surprisingly high spirits. His demeanor was nothing less than friendly. It seemed that he was looking to inform rather than impress, "Also, I apologize if I come on a bit strong. My powers don't really have gradients. They're either on or off like a lightswitch, and when they're on they certainly get your blood pumping, if you know what I mean." Russell finally shut his mouth, and stuffed his hands back into his pockets. With a head gesture, he offered the floor to either Gary or Kiki, both of whome seemed likely to take charge of things next.

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"I don't do that. Not without consent, probable cause or a warrant." If Gary was offended he didn't show it. "However one of my skills is coordination communication among team members, just like this," the voice that came into their minds sounded exactly like Gary, but it was obvious to them that he hadn't spoken, not the least reason because his mouth never moved. "That's an entirely voluntary communication, you can block me out if you like, and I can only 'hear' what you choose to 'say'," the quotation marks around those words were evident in the way he said them, this form of communication had nothing to do with speaking and listening.

"I am a telepath however, and that means reading minds when the situation calls for it. I can also take control of people, possession after a fashion I suppose, but I also prefer not to used that when I can." He shrugged, "There's more. I can tap into people's senses at range, I can see a hostage situation from the pee-oh-vee of the hostage, or the criminal. I can create and project metal phantoms, and even," he hesitated, wondering if he perhaps has already said too much. "I can alter memories. Again, not something I do lightly. I've had my powers since I was a child, my parents taught me to have a strong sense of morals and ethics and to use my gifts accordingly."

He looked sad for a moment, "The FBI, they are burying me here I think, hoping that I won't cause them bad press. Can you image what people would think if a telepathic federal agent was common knowledge to the public? " He looked at the others, specifically Blitz, who hadn't revealed her name, and Hellhound, who seemed to be hiding something about his powers, "I understand the need for secrets, and I respect and honor that need."

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Naomi scratches her head at Hellhound's response. She then pulls out a small bottle of energy water from a pocket on her backpack.

"To each their own then, Special Agent Samson." She says before taking a drink. "I guess I really shouldn't be so embarrassed then about my suit and it's powers. After all I built it... it might be a prototype but it's my invention. A first one at that. All it's idiosynchratic behavior and all I guess is part of it's charm."

She adjusts the collar of her suit. "I'd probably feel a bit awkward with psychic talent. I'd probably look like I was walking on egg shells trying not to intrude on anyone. Some people are just suited to certain things."

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She pushes her glasses back up. "My real asset to the team, at least from looking at my dossier is one of playing support for the rest of the team. I'm properly trained as a first responder, quite a pilot, driver, boater... well... anything that moves really, and I am a wiz with technology. Me... It's more of the job, not getting to show off that's important."

"For a second there I thought you wanted a safe, but illustrative demonstration."

She smacks her head. "Oh, I can fly too... although as of now I gotta work on some sort of propulsion since I am pretty much stuck with drifting on the wind for now."

“You fly?” Blitz greeted this news with the same delight that she’d greeted pretty much everything so far. “Like, that is cool! I can’t fly! But I can run really, really fast.” This was news to no one, but she seemed immune to the lack of surprise at her statement.

Russell looked positively stunned. He felt for a moment like he was looking into the past. Blitz felt the hand he used to shake with tighten around her own. Just before it became nearly painful, he suddenly released his grip. He seemed to swallow and compose himself. "Sorry. You... You remind me of someone is all." As he turned to shake Gary's hand he added a sideways glance and one last comment, "And yea, I do bite. Sometimes." It was difficult to tell if he was joking or serious.

Ohmigod! Some kind of dark, secretive past! Blitz felt an instant connect with him – after all she had a dark, secretive past as well! “It’s okay,” she enthused to his apology. “I get that a lot. Though… must have been a very interesting someone, since I’m masked and wearing leather.” The girl did a little wiggle that was mostly innocent but made the material of her clothing squeak at the motion.

He’s so dark… he seems sad. I bet I could cheer him up, Blitz thought, starting her mind down a path that had ruined so many women before her. I’ll just keep an eye on him.

"I wouldn't worry too much Naomi. I've already assumed Kiki here, as well as whoever the higher ups are in charge of this thing already know more about us than we've forgotten about ourselves. For my part, my name is Russell. You may also call me Hellhound. Though I suppose we might be better off saving those names for 'official business'. It wouldn't be good to be using code names if we are masquerading as civilians." He regarded Blitz for a quick moment before crossing his arms. "I won't force you to share if you'd rather not. I'm just speaking logically."

“Oh, I don’t mind giving my first name, but just that,” Blitz replied, completely comfortable with this. “I just didn’t know the protocol – all super-teams have a way they do things. Some give first names, some only use their costumed personas; some know all about each other and they’re friends. If you wanna the name on my ID, it’s Valentine. I’ll answer to Val, too.”

The smell of sulfur lingered a little longer as he smiled again, "... And sometimes I bite."

That reiteration from Russell caused an unfortunate tingle down her spine. Rowr!

"It should be obvious why I'm here. If we are going to have to work together, and if we are going to have to deal with any sort of violent criminals or other exceptional persons, I'm betting that it'll be me going toe to toe. None of the rest of you seem built for it." He eyed the others, gauging their reactions, "And Gary? If you have any control over that telepathy of yours, then I'll offer you a friendly warning. You may want to avoid trying to read my mind. My 'thoughts' are not always my own, and you might not like what you hear. Also, I apologize if I come on a bit strong. My powers don't really have gradients. They're either on or off like a lightswitch, and when they're on they certainly get your blood pumping, if you know what I mean." Russell finally shut his mouth, and stuffed his hands back into his pockets. With a head gesture, he offered the floor to either Gary or Kiki, both of whome seemed likely to take charge of things next.

At Hellhound’s statement that she couldn’t hold her own in a fight, Blitz snorted indelicately. Still, she let him finish talking before she corrected him. “Russell,” Blitz all-but-purred, “you see this?” She pointed to her chest, grinning. “Not my boobs, though they are nice, too, I have been informed. No, the missile. You think this stands for ‘Happy Fun Time’? You think this means I hit like the proverbial girl? I may not look like Wonder Woman, but this fine little form packs a lot of energy.” Her tone kept the statement from being a come-on, though her words could have been chosen better.

“Also, you know much math? Force – the thing I’ll be hitting the bad guys with – is equal to mass – which I admit I’m a little short on – times acceleration. Acceleration is measured in meters per second per second… or in other words, really fast. My mass may be a little on the light side, but there is nothing wrong with my acceleration.” She ended her little lesson with a wide grin, both to show she wasn’t angry and to keep Russell from getting angry.

"I don't do that. Not without consent, probable cause or a warrant." If Gary was offended he didn't show it. "However one of my skills is coordination communication among team members, just like this," the voice that came into their minds sounded exactly like Gary, but it was obvious to them that he hadn't spoken, not the least reason because his mouth never moved. "That's an entirely voluntary communication, you can block me out if you like, and I can only 'hear' what you choose to 'say'," the quotation marks around those words were evident in the way he said them, this form of communication had nothing to do with speaking and listening.

He looked sad for a moment, "The FBI, they are burying me here I think, hoping that I won't cause them bad press. Can you image what people would think if a telepathic federal agent was common knowledge to the public?" He looked at the others, specifically Blitz, who hadn't revealed her name, and Hellhound, who seemed to be hiding something about his powers, "I understand the need for secrets, and I respect and honor that need."

An ethical telepath… that’s novel. It was for Blitz; she’d been worried about Samson, but freaking out around a telepath usually resulted in them digging into your head to find out what you were so worried about them finding. That was only one reason the Razers hadn’t had a mentalist in their group – most of the kids had met a telepath, and they all had been nosy dicks. “Don’t worry, Agent,” she said, zipping to his side and putting her head on his shoulder for a second, “we are happy to have you and the FBI is the loser here.” And he's sad too. Why is everyone sad?

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She adjusts the collar of her suit. "I'd probably feel a bit awkward with psychic talent. I'd probably look like I was walking on egg shells trying not to intrude on anyone. Some people are just suited to certain things."

"It's not a matter of feeling awkward," he replied patiently. "It's a matter of respecting people's privacy. I still remember how disappointed my mother was that I had read her mind to find out what I got for Christmas that first year. Not disappointed because I found out, but because she wasn't able to see and experience my own surprised that morning. Not all secrets are a matter of national security." He shrugged, "Some are better kept to protect people from the truth. The truth isn't always the right thing at the right time."

“Don’t worry, Agent,” she said, zipping to his side and putting her head on his shoulder for a second, “we are happy to have you and the FBI is the loser here.”

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Only time will tell for certain." He smiled, "For now though this is my assignment, so I will show them what an asset I can be by doing this job to the best of my ability." His smile faltered, "Whatever it is that this job entails." He looked over at Kiki, and then back to the others, "Maybe, now that we're all here, we can find out what that is."

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"Perhaps Awkward wasn't the word... Scared I think would be a better term. I would be scared." She says to Samson as she leans against a wall.

As she drinks some more she starts looking at a weather forecast on a wrist-bound computer on her arm, embedded into the material of her suit's arm.

"I guess... some people are... well, destined for what they have... I sorta said it before. You definitely wouldn't be too keen being Me, and I'd not make a good psychic detective."

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“I get that a lot. Though… must have been a very interesting someone, since I’m masked and wearing leather.” The girl did a little wiggle that was mostly innocent but made the material of her clothing squeak at the motion.

The memories of his sister, combined with Blitz's little wiggle produced a very strange mixture of feelings for Russell. He raised an eyebrow, "She was at that..."

At Hellhound’s statement that she couldn’t hold her own in a fight, Blitz snorted indelicately. Still, she let him finish talking before she corrected him. “Russell,” Blitz all-but-purred, “you see this?” She pointed to her chest, grinning. “Not my boobs, though they are nice, too, I have been informed. No, the missile. You think this stands for ‘Happy Fun Time’? You think this means I hit like the proverbial girl? I may not look like Wonder Woman, but this fine little form packs a lot of energy.” Her tone kept the statement from being a come-on, though her words could have been chosen better.

Come on or not, Russell couldn't help but crack a smile at the sinless speedster's word choice.

“Also, you know much math? Force – the thing I’ll be hitting the bad guys with – is equal to mass – which I admit I’m a little short on – times acceleration. Acceleration is measured in meters per second per second… or in other words, really fast. My mass may be a little on the light side, but there is nothing wrong with my acceleration.” She ended her little lesson with a wide grin, both to show she wasn’t angry and to keep Russell from getting angry.

Russell couldn't help it any longer. He burst out in a laugh, but managed to quickly stifle it. Realizing he was risking bruised feelings he immediately apologized, "I'm sorry. It's not that I don't believe you. I do. I've passed physics, so I know the math behind all that. But *heehee* the way you phrased it was... Interesting. Don't mind me. I just have to keep reminding myself that you're referring to how fast you are on foot when you say, 'acceleration'." From the goofy smile he wore, to the way he spoke, it was clear that he was pulling her leg. Blitz's keen eyes could even have sworn that he'd winked...

Barghest: Down, boy!

Russell: Shut it!

"I guess... some people are... well, destined for what they have... I sorta said it before. You definitely wouldn't be too keen being Me, and I'd not make a good psychic detective."

"Destined?" Russell reiterated, "No. I'd rather not think it was destiny that gave me these powers. After all, a lot of people died that day. I just... There's a few choice things I'd certainly change if I could 'take it all back', you know? I don't really like the notion that there would be nothing I'd be able to do about it even if I'd wanted to. Fate and I are not the best of friends. Especially when it comes to where I'm supposed to end up at..." He offered no further explanation for the cryptic judgment.

Barghest: Russell, home is where the hellfire is.

Russell: It's 'hearthfire'.

Barghest: I know how the saying goes.

Russell: @#$% you.

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"Perhaps Awkward wasn't the word... Scared I think would be a better term. I would be scared." She says to Samson as she leans against a wall.

As she drinks some more she starts looking at a weather forecast on a wrist-bound computer on her arm, embedded into the material of her suit's arm.

"I guess... some people are... well, destined for what they have... I sorta said it before. You definitely wouldn't be too keen being Me, and I'd not make a good psychic detective."

"Destined?" Russell reiterated, "No. I'd rather not think it was destiny that gave me these powers. After all, a lot of people died that day. I just... There's a few choice things I'd certainly change if I could 'take it all back', you know? I don't really like the notion that there would be nothing I'd be able to do about it even if I'd wanted to. Fate and I are not the best of friends. Especially when it comes to where I'm supposed to end up at..." He offered no further explanation for the cryptic judgment.

"I don't believe in destiny either," Blitz said, some of her vivacious energy bleeding off for a moment. This was heavy stuff they were discussing, like deaths and stuff. People dying didn't bother her and never had. She'd not been taught to have a lot of empathy for others. But she knew that it could bother other people, and she liked Russell (not that way, pervy brain!) and sensed that it did bother him. "My creation probably involved tequilia and some major 'bad-idea-cakes-time'. Though, I'm not sure why I have the powers that I do, so you never know - maybe some 'higher force' had something to do with me standing here today." And if that were true, she had choice words for that higher power sacrificing her best friend to put her here. It was a lot easier to say 'People suck' than 'God sucks'.

"And does it matter?" she asked as that mischievous smile flowed back onto her face. "We're here now. That's what matters. Forget how we got here - we're here now and we're going to make the bad guys sorry they're here too!" She pumped a fist in the air, then heard her own words. "I need to work on that, right? I'm soooo on that. Just give me a few days, m'kaythx!"

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"Okay, yes, yes, I'm getting drink orders...At this point, i think I'm just going to take them into the conference room...fine, the command center, lay out the coffee cake and bring in the full cart...okay, great...Oh, you're not going to bring the frying pan, are you? Mike?"

Kiki sighed and put away her phone.

"Alright, our fearless leader is on his way, but I have to warn you; he's gotten just a little bit paranoid since things went bad with the last team, so just...try and keep an open mind, okay?"

She stepped out from behind the desk and opened the door.

"If you'll follow me, please?"

She motioned for the others, then led the way into what looked like some sort of gallery; the huge wooden support columns were clearly visible, as were the bare masonry walls. There were several large windows that offered a magnificent view of Fulton River Stadium, all lit up for a late season game with St Louis; judging from the reduction of the glare, the glass was either tinted or reflective to hide the true nature of the activities occuring on the third floor of the former piano factory. Opposite the outside wall was some sort of interior glassed-in enclosure, which appeared to have two sets of double doors leading into it, not unlike airlocks. Kiki waved at the unusual arrangement as she shook her head.

“As I said…paranoia.”

She led her party though the gallery, where a few odd items rested on three-foot stands; there were also three suits of modern armor, two of which showed visible battle scars while the third appeared to be unfinished, like a mock-up or test platform. Those familiar with Lake City’s previous defenders quickly recognized Stalwart’s field gear in various incarnations.

Once at the end of the trophy room, which it clear was, Kiki opened the outermost door of the ‘lock’ and the inner door in rapid succession.

“Quick, take your seats before he comes up; he hates it when I open both doors like this!”

Inside the glassed-in room, which was about fifty feet by sixty feet, were several modern-looking school desks, though the writing surfaces appeared to be large touch-sensitive viewscreens.

Once everyone was inside, Kiki cupped her hands and yelled to be heard over the muffling glass.

“I’ll be right back with the drink cart and coffee cake!”

She then scampered down the hall as fast as her sneakered feet would take her.

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Naomi drummed her fingers in a rapid succession on her desk in a four beat cadence. She's never liked tests, finding them incapable of testing the true capability of an individual who has on days and off days. At best she thinks, they're a snapshot.

"So... anyone hazard to guess what this is all for? Although I would have liked to take a longer look at that armor it had a pretty nice design to it."

She leans back as best she could and familiarizes herself with the OS of the desks.

"Hmm... all home made, no signs of open source or store bought software... Perhaps at some point I should see how well the firewalls are set up. There is more than one way to take a headquarters over."

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"My creation probably involved tequilia and some major 'bad-idea-cakes-time'. Though, I'm not sure why I have the powers that I do, so you never know - maybe some 'higher force' had something to do with me standing here today."

Russell: Hmm, there's something she's not telling.

Barghest: Thank you, Captain Obvious

Russell: You don't always need to comment, you know.

Barghest: I just like seeing you squirm.

Russell: Hmph. Still, I can't say I blame her. Not after my own introduction anyway.

"And does it matter?" she asked as that mischievous smile flowed back onto her face. "We're here now. That's what matters. Forget how we got here - we're here now and we're going to make the bad guys sorry they're here too!" She pumped a fist in the air, then heard her own words. "I need to work on that, right? I'm soooo on that. Just give me a few days, m'kaythx!"

Russell nodded in agreement. A small smile played across his lips as Blitz floundered.

Barghest: *Facepalm*

Russell: I know, I know. But I thought it was kind of cute.

Barghest: Of course you would.

Russell: What's that supposed to mean?

Barghest: Two words. Puppy Love.

Russell: ...Okay. Enough puns!

As Kiki led them around and through the doors, the others got their first look at the way Russell moved around. He had a strange gait that suggested he was actively restraining his movements. He was like a cat, or someone walking on eggshells, every step was purposeful and smooth. He made his way through the gallery in silence, making note of the suits of armor, but dismissing them just as quickly.

Russell slowly sauntered into the room. He halted and watched as Blitz breezed passed him. Resuming his walk, Russell shrugged out of the pea coat he was wearing and tossed it unceremoniously over the back of one of the chairs next to the seat that Blitz had assumed.

His white shirt didn't quite fit him like a glove but it was close. It wasn't skin tight, Russell left that to the Abercrombie models, but it was in no way loose fitting. Due to its color, the shirt was transparent enough to make out the white tank undershirt he wore beneath it, but that was all. "You sure you want to be messing with that?" He asked Superball as he began uncuffing the sleeves of his shirt. Now that he knew this wasn't really a formal affair he seemed to be more comfortable relaxing his wardrobe a little. "It is, after all, our first day. Besides, you heard Kiki. Whoever is in charge here has a paranoid streak. Given the room we're in, I'm sure you can expect the software to be up to date." Russell loosened his tie and unbuttoned the first button on his shirt. "Much better..." He let himself down in the chair next to Blitz and Superball with the same ease that he walked with.

Russell had a computer at his house, but he certainly was no expert on them. This was clearly evidenced by the way he prodded the screen on his desk. After a few moments of achieving no noticiable progress in using the strange software, he gave up. Russell reclined in the chair, cushioned by his coat, and laced his fingers together behind his head. His eyes closed and he prepared himself to wait however long it would take for their new boss to arrive.

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Gary walked like a Fed, there was an unconscious strut to his gait that came with the badge, or maybe it was the way that he seemed to look at everything without looking like he was paying attention to any of it. Inside the apparent meeting room he unbuttoned his coat, and the others were all surprised to not see the Federal standard firearm Glock pistol. No weapon holster was visible at all as he sat down behind one of the desks and prodded it with a finger. Sharp eyes could easily see that there was nothing at his shoulder, or the small of his back; it appeared that Agent Samson didn't carry a weapon at all.

Gary looked around, looked at his teammates, the way that Hellhound seemed to assume a nonchalant lounging, the way Blitz seemed ready to explode from her seat at a moment's notice, and the way that Superball was studying the apparent computer terminal with the fervor of a child with a new toy. Their traits and behavior spoke of their past to him. Gary had a masters in psychology, he'd been trained at Quantico to be a profiler, and while he wouldn't peer into their minds he had no such compunctions about practicing his trade. Blitz was attention starved, maybe from a big family, or maybe from neglectful parents, that was impossible to tell this quickly, but part of her personality, came from a deep seated desire for attention.

Hellhound seemed the opposite, he was sedate except when he had demonstrated his power; Gary suspected that Russ had gotten all the attention he wanted and then a little he didn't. His power, self described as lacking gradients, and his comment about his thoughts not always being his own, made Gary wonder if the man's powers were his own, or borrowed, stolen, loaned, or bought; either way his warning indicated that he may have gotten more than he bargained for.

Superball was an anomaly to Gary, she was clearly intelligent but she seemed to lack self confidence. He thought that maybe she was younger that he would have guessed based on her apparent training. A neophyte, perhaps this was her first job, perhaps even her first real like experience outside of the safety of home life and schooling. He assessed her again and nodded to himself, she looked young as well, possibly she was a child genius which could mean that she was as young as eighteen.

Gary gave the other two a similar reassessment. Russel could be in his twenties, but Val was young as well, probably very close to eighteen. Gary suddenly felt old.

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The harried actions of their assistant made Blitz smile – or rather, smile more. Little seemed able to dampen her enthusiasm for being here. She stared at everything, her green eyes wide as she soaked up the area and atmosphere of her new – and first – job. She already had a lot of questions, but one thing that Ben and then the Razers had taught her was not to ask questions unless given lead to do so. Ben had encouraged her to find her own answers, while the Razers had just encouraged her to mind her own business.

Her intention, upon seeing their seats, had been to let Hellhound pick a seat and then casually take one near him. He stopped just inside the door, forcing her to continue or be obvious about it. Making a moue of annoyance that lasted about a second, Blitz bounced into the room and selected a chair.

She wasn’t nearly as proficient as Superball – the woman made her suit and that was a class that Blitz just wasn’t part of – but she was computer literate and fast. She could check three menus in the time that it took Superball to go through one. “Yeah, we should try to crash this sucker!” Blitz said to Superball, just before Russell suggested they leave it allow. Biting her lip and flushing a little, Blitz put her hands in her lap.

She was still about a second. The young woman twitched, then started to drum her fingers on the desk. Rapidly, the digits blurred into an indistinct whole as her speed got to the point where eyes couldn’t follow her fingers. The drumming became a low drone as each fingerfall became inseparable from its neighbors.

Realizing that she was likely being annoying, Blitz forced herself to stop. Less than a minute after Russell had advised them to cease exploring the computers, she turned to him and said, “Alright, if I can’t play with the computers, I need something else to do. You have cards? A travel boardgame? Stories to tell? Seriously, I need to do or be entertained, I can’t just sit here. A bored Blitz is a terrible thing, and I mean, for you, not me. Seriously, pick my distraction or I’ll find one.” She was joking of a sort, but it was also clear that she was warning them.

As if to prove her own point, Blitz’s eyes dropped to his shirt, and without asking, she reached out and stroked her fingers down his arm. “What’s that shirt made of? It looks so light! Is it comfy?”

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"Blitz, I'm dissapointed you would have thought that. I would only be working on the security once our Host gives me permission to do so. Even though he's thought of most contingencies, I don't think he's thought of all of them. We are in a old factory. I would wager all his servers are behind a farraday cage to protect against EMP or wireless intrusion, but depending on it's quality there still may be frequencies that can reach a wireless reciever in that room... if there is one. Since his computers are probably self-coded, I could easily code up a firewall so arcane a hacker would have to be my equal to have a prayer.

I'm strictly White-Hat."

The sudden backbone and assertiveness from the young genius, as well as a sign of ethics was another tell of who she was. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a small tablet computer and starts tapping on it, moving code around on a screen with her stylus she codes through a actual, working writing to text converter. Of course she can't access the computers in this compound through it... and she has 0 connection to the wireless network outside, which actually gives her a bit of relief.

"Now... I know the best way to occupy time, and perhaps even get to know more about each other, is have we been active outside of our potential activities as a team?"

She grins, almost tempted to get up and test her hovering system in the room just to amuse Blitz. That little habit of the suit losing a few millimeters of height after a short period of loitering was a bit disturbing...

"While we talk I'm going to adjust some suit parameters." She says getting back up and stepping three meters away from her seat.

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"Heh," Gary laughed at Blitz, she was certainly going to keep the rest of the team on their toes. "Hey kid," he said, reaching into his jacket, "you play cards?" His hand came out with a deck of blue backed Bicycle brand cards and he tossed them through the air to Blitz. The cards landed squarely in her hand and in seconds the sound of a deck being shuffled and dealt out into solitaire filled the emptiness of the moment. Gary hid a slight smile behind his hand as he scratched his cheek. The cards weren't real, but none of them could tell that; they looked, felt, and even smelled genuine, but the faces changed when you weren't watching. The cards cheated. Gary watched Val, studied her reactions as best he could given the speed of her movements, he wanted to see how she would handle an unfair situation.

Its in the cards
Gary is using illusion to create a full sensorium deck of cards, When not being observed the faces (the value of the card) changes.

Technically this is a resistible effect as built, but for story's sake and with everybody's permission I'd like to assume that everybody does not save. Blitz and Superball have already agreed.

[jameson] 1:08 pm: gary is creating an illusion, for story's sake are you ok with voluntarily failing the save?

[Kamiko] 1:09 pm: If it's not hostile or trying to place a suggestion in Superball's head, go for it.

[jameson] 1:09 pm: nope

[Kamiko] 1:10 pm: Then rock on.

[Kamiko] 1:11 pm: I voluntarily allow myself to fail a save.

[jameson] 1:08 pm: are you ok with a voluntary failed save? against the illusion?

[Carver] 1:13 pm: Sure.

[Carver] 1:13 pm: It's no big deal.

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Blitz’s eyes widened and she looked genuinely hurt by Naomi’s words, but before she could pull it together enough to speak, a deck of cards fell into her hands. The distraction of the cards gave her enough time to stifle her first response. In typical teenaged fashion, that response would have involved hurting Superball just as much as Blitz felt she had been hurt.

“I’m disappointed too, Superball,” she said tensely, the solitaire game moving as fast as she did. The cards were almost a blur as she dealt hand after losing hand, frustration spiking in her voice as she spoke. “I’m disappointed that you’d assume that I had nefarious reasons for crashing the computers. It’s the best way to stress-test the system, and that’s all I was thinking. I’m also disappointed you’d talk to me like I’m a little kid when I doubt you’re much older than me. And I’m really f-- freaking disappointed that you’d trot out your ‘white hat’ crap and try to establish some kind of moral superiority over me. We are all good guys here. We are all working against the bad guys. My best friend died because of some bad guys, so trust me, I’m here to show the bad guys how much they suck.” The card dealing stopped as she finally had enough of getting screwed, and her hands stilled in mid-shuffle as she looked Superball in the eyes and asked, “So why are you talking to me like I’m a bad guy?”

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"There's a difference between morals, ethics, and etiquette, Miss Blitz. Would you like someone just showing up in your house and turning on all the water faucets to look for leaks? Mind you the fact this runs up your water bill AND this person was hired to fix a clog."

She sighs. For someone who is 18, Naomi sure as hell doesn't act like it. "Good intentions are just that, but they have unintended consequences. Our host expects us to respect his property, I gathered that from his security and his request to his secretary. Also, while I see you have good intentions, you are a bit hyperactive and impatient. I'll let your bluster slide, someone as overclocked as you I'm not surprised. My intent wasn't to come down on you but simply to remind you of where we are. I won't apologize for that but I will for taking such a direct approach."

"You seem to speak like I got a out of control ego or pride... trust me, I dont." She smiles before hitting a few buttons on her suit, setting it into flight mode. She hovers in mid air in full view of everyone. Her head, hands and feet are the only things poking out of her suit as it puffs out into a ball. Her right hand still holding the tablet. "Hmm... seems to be holding station fine now, the anti-gravity fields are working good."

She blushes when she looks at everyone. "Oh... didn't tell you my suit does this when it functions. It's caused by the anti-gravity fields. I have to let the suit expand to match or it could damage the systems. Once I found my virtual mass was light enough to be lifted I got playful and set up a compressed helium/oxygen system. Helium in a outer envelope on the suit, while the inner life support envelope uses oxygen... pretty slick... I thought it was turning a design flaw into a feature."

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Gary was more than half distracted, maintaining the illusion was incredibly difficult at the speed that Blitz was demanding of it. The wrong turn that the conversation had taken only made matters worse, things were in danger of spiraling out of control before they ever got started. "Alright, enough of that. Both of you. Blitz, as much as I dislike how Naomi said it, she does make the valid point that we're guests here at the moment, and our host has already been mentioned as a bit paranoid. Diving into his computer system and cracking it wide open before even meeting the man is not a good way to make a first impression. Right?"

He looked up at the other woman, floating above them, "Nor is arrogance and condescension, Naomi. Attacking Blitz for what may have just been a poor choice of wording, or not, was uncalled for. She's not a child, don't talk to her as you would one. We're all adults here, and our opinions are ours to express, but can we try to keep a civil tone please?" He sighed, and then added in a menacing tone clearly meant to be a joke, "Or I will make you play nice and braid each other's hair, and I can do so." He smiled, trying to defuse the tension that had suddenly filled the room.

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Naomi looks away in guilt. "Sorry."

She was clearly shocked. Did she... actually sound like that. "I... was off base. Sorry everyone. There was... no excuse for that."

She thinks and lowers herself through a mental impulse back to the ground and returns the suit to a normal size. "Sorry, Blitz."

She returns to her seat and puts her head down, realizing... she done goofed.

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"I'm sorry, too." The bad mood was gone as rapidly as it had arrived, and Blitz was smiling again. "We're part of a team, we're going to have wrinkles to work out." Hopefully, good guys have better ways of working things out than the Razers did.

Getting up, Blitz moved a desk aside and cleared a spot on the floor. "Superball, wanna put your big brain to helping me build a card house?" she asked with a big grin as she sat cross-legged. Patting the floor, the hyperactive young woman offered, "It'll be fun, and I haven't done this in a while." It had been a favorite exercise of Ben's; thoughts of her sorta-foster father had a melancholy smile on her face. Waiting for the few seconds that it took Superball to speak again had her impatient; the hand holding the deck of cards started to bounce rapidly. "Actually, anyone who wants in can pile on." Her grin was wicked as she glanced at Russell at that last comment.

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"Hmm... moods as changeable as Minnesota weather." Naomi thinks. "Thanks, Blitz."

She was suprised... no wise cracks about the suit from anyone. That was pretty much a surprise to her.

"Besides, if we're ever going to get that towing thing to work... we all gotta be on the same page." She says with a smile, looking up from the desk.

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As if to prove her own point, Blitz’s eyes dropped to his shirt, and without asking, she reached out and stroked her fingers down his arm. “What’s that shirt made of? It looks so light! Is it comfy?”

As Blitz's hand made contact with Russell's shirt, and the skin beneath it, she could have sworn the temperature in the room must have jumped nearly ten degrees. Either Russell was running a massive fever, or his skin was just extremely hot to the touch. Either way, when she pulled her hand away, she felt cooler once more. It seemed Russell's earlier fireworks display wasn't just for show. He was hot stuff.

It made her wonder briefly why he'd even needed such a heavy coat in the first place... But soon her mind was on other things...

The only reaction her touch provoked out of him was his left eye, the one closest to Blitz opening and fixing itself lazily on her. He hadn't been sleeping, just closing his eyes. He opened his mouth to respond, when he was forestalled by the argument between the two girls.

For his part, he remained entirely silent during the exchange. Though he did smile when Gary stepped in. After all, the agent hadn't really said anything more than Russell had a moment earlier. The older man had just explained his own reasoning a little further.

"It'll be fun, and I haven't done this in a while." It had been a favorite exercise of Ben's; thoughts of her sorta-foster father had a melancholy smile on her face. Waiting for the few seconds that it took Superball to speak again had her impatient; the hand holding the deck of cards started to bounce rapidly. "Actually, anyone who wants in can pile on." Her grin was wicked as she glanced at Russell at that last comment.

"Val..." Russell finally leaned forward. Addressing her by her nickname, and regarding her with a dubious look he added a single word, "Phrasing!"

Then he smiled, his shoulders lowered, and he looked a great deal more relaxed than he had been a moment ago. Perhaps it had been the tension in the room, or perhaps it had been something else. But now that it was diffused, he seemed to be in better spirits.

He cocked his head to the side and put on a charming smile, "Okay, fine. I'll bite."

Barghest: Rawr!

Russell: Shut it!

He rose from the chair leaving his coat, and sat with crossed legs on the floor next to Blitz.

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Superball giggles to herself.

"We go from fighting with each other to playing with each other... just what did I get myself into?" She thinks as she rummages through her bag. Making sure everything was in order.

"This will not have a lack for being interesting."

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"Val..." Russell finally leaned forward. Addressing her by her nickname, and regarding her with a dubious look he added a single word, "Phrasing!"

"Sorry," she said without a hint of repentance, "I have a wicked tongue with a mind of its own." She managed to say that with a more-or-less straight face, only to giggle at the looks she got. "I'll try to curb it in the future." She managed not to add any of the statements that tried to follow that one.

Then he smiled, his shoulders lowered, and he looked a great deal more relaxed than he had been a moment ago. Perhaps it had been the tension in the room, or perhaps it had been something else. But now that it was diffused, he seemed to be in better spirits.

He cocked his head to the side and put on a charming smile, "Okay, fine. I'll bite."

He rose from the chair leaving his coat, and sat with crossed legs on the floor next to Blitz.

"That a threat or promise, hot-stuff?" Blitz asked softly, leaning close with a sly smile. She gave him half the deck and began to build the lower levels, showing him how if he'd never done it before. There was a little trick to it, just a few things that helped it come together, just like in a real house. "So," she asked when he was focused on carefully placing a card, "are you going to make me that hot every time we touch?"

The look on his face was worth losing their progress.

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Lose progress they did, if only on the house of cards. Russell actually did a double take, accidentally knocking Blitz's first four super-humanly quickly constructed levels to the ground with the first card he tried to place on the top.

"I...Uh..."

Barghest: Awh Awh Awwwhoooooo!

Russell: Damnit! You are NOT a wolf!

Barghest: Yea, but you sure are!

Russell: *groan* Would you just ... You know what, screw this. In for a penny...

Barghest: Good boy.

Russell: I'd say something, but it wouldn't do any good, would it?

Barghest: Now you're catching on!

Russell regained his composure. "Yea. I am." He looked at the card in his hand, the 8 of hearts, and a devilish smile lit up his lips and his eyes locked with Blitz's as the card was quickly consumed in a gout of flame. It was consumed so quickly in a bright flash that it didn't even smoke. "You might say that I run a little hotter than most. So my body gives off a lot more heat than your average person." While he never said it, the look that he flashed her heavily implied that this meant every part of his body. It was just enough to make a girl wonder...

"Sorry..." He said for the benefit for the others in the room as he sat back, like a dog on its haunches. "I'll have to be more careful next time." Suddenly that smile was back, "Do you want to do it again?" he asked Blitz. While outwardly, the question was innocent, Russell certainly could have watched his own phrasing this time...

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Gary was a little surprised by the sudden incineration of the card. The Bureau had strict rules about fraternizing, and so he was naturally a little taken aback by how things had already begun to progress between Russ and Val. The carelessness, or perhaps thoughtlessness, displayed by destroying the card with little in the way of an apology was also interesting. Russ apparently did as he pleased first and dealt with consequences afterwards. "I hope you don't make a practice of borrowing things and doing what you will with them Russ. If you do let me know, I won't let you near my record collection."

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