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Mutants & Masterminds: The Magisterium - [Magisterium] Conquest of the Sun

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Transcript from Interview with Travis Kincaid

RL: Very well. Can I at least tell them if you'd give up your homicidal tendencies if released from statis permanently, or will you continue to kill humans any chance you get?"

TK: You can tell them that sure...

RL: Right. I'd love to hear the truth, you know. Can we make a deal? What would you like from me for the truth?

TK: A little anal?

RL: How about something a little more doable?

TK: Come on ... a little anal won't kill you, even from me.

RL: Is that your only offer? Anal from a human?

TK: I think you think I'm going to play ball, but I'm not a pet, or a slave, or a traitor to my race. So either

kill me, put me under, or let me go and pray that I don't find you.

RL: Understood. Thank you for your time. I look forward to talking to you again, Travis.

TK: Whatever. You better hope I don't develop a resistance to your little miracle drugs or the next time maybe you'll be getting more than you planned for.

Transcript from Interview with Mary

RL: Help you leave here. Not today. But soon. If you'll not tell them and if you'll be patient, I'll get

you out of here.

M: I can't leave. It's too dangerous.

RL: Yes, it is. Too dangerous for them. They can't let you see too much of the world. I

won't force you to leave, and neither will the man I work with. You have to tell me you'll leave, if given the chance.

M: It's not that I want to stay here...forever. It's just...how do I know it's safe? I don't know who you are. I don't even know...what you are. I just need some time.

RL: You have no time. I'll not see you again before your opportunity comes. You have to tell me now. If you want to stay, you'll be left here. If you want to go, David will move heaven and earth to get you out.

M: But what will I do? [pause] I...I'll go.

Transcript from Interview with Lamia

RL: "Your history interests me. How old are you really?"

L: What do I get for telling you? You want something from me, and you can't just strap me down and lick it out of me, so what do I get for telling you?

RL: Because if you do, I will talk to you again. For a much longer talk, somewhere outside of this building.

L: From the books I've been allowed, I can say with certainty that I am older than any known civilization. My family, my parents and my brothers and sisters and cousins, my....what was the word used? Band? The people I grew up with, all of whom I could name my relationship to, we lived well inland from the sea you call the Mediterranean, beyond the mouths of the rivers that flow to become the Nile. I remember the time you call the Ice Age and the stories of the great mountains of ice to the north and all the rivers and lakes and even the seas dying around us as the desert spread across the world below those mountains. I remember many other things, but the only proof you have is the records that were taken from the Reich and the princes before them and the priests before them. Why does it matter? Those people are dust now and their deeds and legacies forgotten by all. Except by me.

Transcript from Interview with Gold

RL: You enjoy being feared? I mean, you say respect - I'm sure they're afraid of you.

G: Ah yes, psychoanalyze the mutie in a cage. Good show. I take what I can get, doc. These bottom feeders know what'll happen if I get out of my cage. Turns out I can't be replaced and they can. And these people know what I can do if I'm in the mood. A man would like to be respected. A mutie... A mutie can take fear, or nothing. I learned to take what I can get in the pit.

RL: I wasn't trying to analyze. I know they don't respect you. If they did, they wouldn't cage you. They fear you, because you are stronger than they. And yes, they are very replaceable, and you... you are unique.

G: Which I'm sure is why we're even having this conversation. So what's this new project of yours? Or are you a minion like the rest of them?

RL: I confess, I did want to meet you, which is why I pushed for this. They didn't want me to evaluate you - too dangerous. The project is to have a conversation about your views on the world. Officially, I'm assessing whether changes can be made to policy to improve your performance. But your.... 'needs' are clearly greater than what the program will allow.

G: If I had a rock you'd be dead, but given I'm in a smooth cage that if my eye tells me true was constructed fresh in the last twenty-four hours... you're pretty safe unless you come within arm's reach. At which point you die.

May 5, 2012, 9:44 a.m. MST

Sletten Lake, North Dakota

The Sletten Lake Containment Facility sits in rural North Dakota, far from any major settlements. It is clearly a military complex, but unlike other military complexes, it doesn’t feed the local economy. Trucks come and go all the time, but they are military transports, and they don’t stop at the local Kum & Go. The locals have dozens of rumors about the place, all of them far less fantastic than the truth.

The center of Sletten is the Main Building, sometimes called Mutant central. This squat, single story concrete box houses the facility’s mutants, all four of them. Sometimes, it’s inconceivable to the soldiers and scientists here that so much exists solely to study and contain these four, but at other times, it was all too easy to understand why all the security existed for them. They were some of the most dangerous or valuable mutants housed in the United States.

The Main Building is divided into five sections by incredibly thick walls, one for each of their mutants and a fifth area that houses, the supply room, computer room, cafeteria, one of three armories and some offices. One section houses Mary, along with labs and offices to support the scientists who study her. She also has a compliment of guards; men she’s never seen who have orders specifying under what conditions they can put a bullet in her head. Lamia has another section; like Mary, she has a bevy of guards and scientists, thought their functions and orders are very different. Each woman’s suite contains several rooms, each of them designed to provide her with everything she needs so she’ll never have to be removed from the secure area. The third area houses Project Ice, a government funded research project to determine the viability of long-term cyrostatis. Their mutant test subject is housed there, along with all the labs and equipment that are required by the program. The fourth section contains the imprisoned mutant Gold as well as the Colonel who oversees the training general preparedness of Weapon Gold.

Today was sunny and bright; a few clouds scuttled overhead. Outside the Main Building, the unit permanently dispatched here went about their duties, which mostly involved finding new ways to remain alert on this fairly dull day. The sun overhead made the air warmer than was usual for early May in North Dakota, and a couple of the harder working soldiers were already sweating. No one really looked up, so no one noticed that there wasn’t one sun in the sky, but two.

The glowing form got in the first strike before anyone realized he was there. The communications tower was briefly outlined in gold as the sun itself seemed to strike it; then the concrete slagged under the intense heat. Men didn’t have time to notice they were dying before the fact, save a few luckless souls who were far enough away to survive the initial blast only to be seared to ash seconds later. The shed housing the tanks and vehicles was next.

In nearby Battleview, population 389, the residents stared to the south, where the horizon glowed with a second sunrise.

The first of the anti-aircraft weapons fired at the glowing form, only to explode against a glowing shield yards away from the form. Another shell entered the fray; this one struck the form. The explosion couldn’t obscure the form’s brilliance, and the form seemed relatively unhurt. But the defenses were gearing up, and the form dropped rapidly to hover just above the building. Another blast of heat and light from his hands punched a brutal hole into the roof, and the DEHA’s worst nightmare came true: a mutant had penetrated Project Ice.


Travis was dreaming again. He was flying and free, with nothing to stop him save his own limits. The platform of debris under his feet carried him high into the sky and he grinned at the unparalleled feeling of freedom. Then he remembered – he couldn’t dream while he was in cyro-sleep. That thought brought a surge of adrenaline, as he realized he was being woken up again.

He came awake with a shout, ready to fight. An alarm whooped in the building, and there was a hole in the ceiling of the lab. There was only another man in the room and Travis wasn’t strapped to a gurney. The other person was thin, not too tall, and older in his mid-to-late forties. His hair was brown and eyes gray; his close-cropped facial hair added his age. But more important that all that: the man glowed with a golden light. He was another mutant. “Ready to leave?” the man asked.

“Fuck yes!” Travis said, bounding off the bed. He was dressed in hospital pants and nothing else, but he didn’t care. It was time to GTFO.

“Great. There’s three more mutants held here,” the man told him. “Gold’s prison is that way.” He pointed due south. “You spring him – I’m going to make sure the other two are ready to go. I have a way out, so don’t worry about getting away. Just get Gold out. Got it?”


Gold sighed as he worked his sore muscles. The workout today had taxed even him; the latest trainings had a deliberate feel, and the mutant resigned himself to another upcoming mission. Maybe he’d get to kill some humans and no mutants. That’d be nice.

A distant roar rang through the building, like it’d been struck with a hammer. The mutant was on his feet before the vibrations had stopped and the alarm started. Outside his cell, he could hear soldiers scrambling, but he couldn’t see anything. All he knew was that something big was happening.


Lamia stared at the Sudoku puzzle. It was the last one in the book, and she debated whether she should complete it or wait. She’d angered one of the doctors accidently last week, so there was no telling when her next book would come. She ran her fingers over the squares, trying to decide if she should save it, or if she was bored enough to do it now. Perhaps she would only work on it five minutes-

A distant roar rang through the building, like it’d been struck with a hammer. Lamia looked around in alarm – alarm mixed with hope. How many sweet dreams had started just this way? How often had she hoped for something like this to herald her escape? Was her chance here?


Mary was asleep; she wasn’t normally allowed to sleep this late but it was a Saturday, and she’d done very well on her test yesterday. Normally, she’d be filled with a sense of satisfaction over that, but Dr. LaCroix’s visit had tainted everything since that point.

A distant roar rang through the building, like it’d been struck with a hammer. Mary woke up and was half out of bed before she really thought about what she was doing. Her thoughts flew to Dr. LaCroix, and what she’d said.

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The cryo-systems behind him crumpled and twisted. Metal and glass and rubber hoses and steel needles compacted as though gripped In a great fist closing with inexorable strength. Travis' features twisted with a menacing grin for a moment as the equipment was destroyed utterly. It faded just as quickly however, he was no fool, and he was not going to believe that this was the only such setup that existed, or that they couldn't reproduce it from data. It still felt good though.

The other man fairly well glowed, waiting for Travis' reply, looking ready to leave to go help the other two mutants apparently. Travis blinked, he didn't appear to be glowing, he was glowing. "You're him," he breathed. The other man didn't say anything. "You're Sol right?"

"That's what the humans call me." A statement; matter of fact.

"Excellent, finally somebody who'll be able to keep up. Gold right? I'll get ...him?" Sol nodded. "See you outside." Travis watched a lance of plasma slice a hole through the door and wall as the other man exited, there was heat enough to roll over his bare skin. He looked down and wiggled his toes. "Fuck shoes, but seriously, I could use some socks..." With a shrug he turned toward south, his shoulders rolling as he stretched. He was barely dressed, still a little drugged, and it didn't matter one bit, because he was going to get his kill on.

The wall buckled under a barrage of pure force, a series of hammer blows that rained down on reinforced concrete and shattered it, tore through the rebar, and scattered the broken pieces on the other side like a landslide. The men on the other side of the wall, the men who were charged with guarding the mutant known as Gold, had only a moment's warning. They flinched away from the wall as it exploded. Travis glided through the gaping hole. Weapon's were brought around, weapons wholly inadequate to the task they were pressed into. Travis actually waited with a grin as they unloaded their magazines into him. Five men, one hundred and fifty rounds, and not a scratch. Brass casings tinkled on the floor as copper clad lead, deformed into mushroom shaped wads, clattered onto the concrete disc that Travis had torn from the floor of his own prison.

"Oh, yeah, I've still got it." Travis flipped his hand up and a column of pure telekinetic force lanced out. Four guards were caught by it, hurled backwards, and crushed to death in an instant. Travis smiled at the fifth. The man had made it halfway to reloading his M4 carbine before realizing who it was that he was facing. He turned to run but found himself immobilized, picked up like a rag doll, and gliding through the air to hang before Travis Kincaid, a mutant so dangerous he had been put into bio-stasis rather than to held in any kind of conscious state.

Travis scowled as the smell of urine assaulted his nostrils. He shook his head, "I can't believe you fuckin' blips are the dominant species. Time to knock the apex predator off his perch." The guards cries of tormented agony were surprisingly loud considering the forces being applied to his chest, but then having one's limbs torn out was painful beyond measure. Relative silence filled the broken antechamber, the muffled sounds of fighting elsewhere made it through the walls and down the corridor as Travis looked at the door before him. "Knock knock." Every measure of his strength was put to task as he pulled on the doors to the chamber that held Gold. "Wonder what this guy's deal is," Travis muttered as he rent door from frame and wall.

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The alarm blared through the observation deck, startling the the six people idling through the weekend grind. Four of them immediately jumped up, three reaching for the weapons clipped at their side and the fourth grimacing as her hand passed through empty air. Red lights flashed from the window in the door to the hallway but Dr. Kerrin didn't pale until a blue light set into the panel of monitoring equipment lit up, bathing the room in an fox-fire like glow.

"Marksen, Dorth, and Loren, find the action. Go! That's an order," he snapped, glancing through the one-way mirror to where his charge was staring at the last page of a Sudoku book.

Sgt. Marksen shook his head, "No, sir. We're prote-"

"Code Omega, Sgt.," Dr. Kerrin pointed to the door. "I outrank you, so get your ass moving." The three hesitated and he barked, "Now!"

They hustled out and Dr. Kerrin pushed the other two medical staff after them, snagging the emergency kit on his way out. The group split in two direction, the soldiers breaking out into a run down the hallway while the other three opened the door immediately to their right. Lamia had made it off her bed and was standing in the middle of the room in the silk-and-lace light purple nightgown the base commander had issued her two weeks ago, after her maternity clothes had been stored until they were needed again. "What's going on, Dr. Kerrin? Has there been an earthquake?"

"There's a situation, dear." His tone was solicitous, meant to calm her and keep control of the situation. He set the emergency kit in Dr. Russe's arms, opening it to pull out a syringe and a vial of kytone and leaving Lt. Forrenkellan as the spotter. "We need to move you to a safer location, but I will need to sedate you first." He smiled and began filling the syringe with the sedative.

"Situation?" Lamia asked, watching the syringe fill with the light blue substance. "You mean an attack?"

No one said anything, but she noticed Jen, the military medic, edging closer to her. Lamia knew that sliding move: Lt. Forrenkallen was position herself to grab her arms if she tried to resist the injection. She has better instincts than the others. And this is an attack. The strange conversation from nearly six weeks ago came to mind. Well, I've waited more than centuries for a chance. The worse they can do is keep me sedated while they rape me and use me to produce children for them. That's only a slight step down.

The syringe was almost full when Lamia's hand shot out in the first violent act ever observed from her by her American slavers. It was also the last sight Jennifer Forrenkallen ever saw as Lamia's hand grasped her skull through her mouth and eye sockets. She swung the screaming woman's body into Dr. Russe with enough force to snap Forrenkallen's neck and knocked the two remaining doctors to the floor. The emergency case clattered to the ground, but Dr. Kerrin kept hold of the syringe of kytone; he made a stab for her foot, but the woman stomped on his legs. He screamed and his hand jerked open, the syringe fell to the floor and Lamia moved quickly. She stepped up, slamming her bare foot into the groin of each man and taking a brief moment to enjoy the looks of pain and torture on her captors before practicality took over. She reached down and snapped their necks with sickening ease had any human been watching. She pulled all of the vials of kytone out of the emergency kit and placed them with the syringe, then smashed them all with the case of the emergency kit. The strength that had only before been seen in the spasms of childbirth pulverized the metal and glass. Blue liquid joined the seeping pool of blood on the floor.

Her feet and legs covered in gore, flecks of blood staining the high hem of the nightgown, she sprinted into the hallway.

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Mary shot to her feet, heart quickening to a mad, birdlike pitterpat in her chest. Was this it? What else could it be? Alarms started going off. She'd heard the blares and bells before...but then one of the doctors had come in first and explained that it was a 'drill,' a practice run, and that there was nothing to be afraid of. The noises were loud, but she hadn't been afraid because he'd said not to be.

She was afraid now. But along with the fear was something else, something new. A kind of exhileration that made it hard to breathe. She was going to go outside. She was going to see the sky that she'd read so much about, and trees and dirt. She was going to meet real animals. She'd been reviewing their names so she'd get them right.

For a moment things started appearing on the floor of her room. Trays of food, cups of water, identical to the things she was brought for meals. Mary almost stepped on a tray before she realized she was accidentally 'manifesting' again...as the doctors called it. Shame heated her cheeks and she banished the objects. It had been a long time since her last 'accident,' and even being hungry and excited and scared was no excuse.

Still. She reckoned that outside the doctors wouldn't be able to bring her food anymore. And she'd want more to wear than just one shirt and pair of pants since she wouldn't have the shower to visit regularly.

When she' turned thirteen, someone had put an issue of Cosmo into her reading materials...maybe out of ignorance, or maybe as an act of kindness, or cruelty. Though it had quickly been confiscated, it wan't fast enough. She'd devoured every word in the glossy publication, with the advertisments and ideas in it being so totally alien to her world. She'd realized too at that point that women outside were gorgeously beautiful, and that she herself was not. She was perhaps skinny enough, but where the Cosmo women managed to be skinny AND curvy, she didn't have the round hips and bust they did. And even though she had a doctor-approved exercise and nutrition program, her arms and legs seemed entirely too skinny to her. Lanky was the word she'd learned that fit, in her view. Since then she avoided taking her clothes off, and when she had to, she avoided looking at herself. Physicals were allowed only to female doctors now...one of the few issues she' ever put her foot down on. Mary wasn't really aware therefore of how she'd grown since she was thirteen though. Her face was almost a perfect oval, with big, deep brown eyes and brown hair she insisted be cut short...ostensibly for practical reasons, but really because most of the female doctors had theirs cut that way. Still girlish enough to be sweet and innocent looking, but her lips had filled out some, and her cheeks defined, showing hints of a classical beauty stll developing. Her violent growth spurt at thirteen and fourteen had slowed, meaning she wasn't much taller now than before, but she'd continued to grow into her height. Mary wouldn't be on the cover of Cosmo anytme soon, but she might make it onto Seventeen.

With a deep breath, Mary organized her thoughts. First, something to put things in, to carry other things. Sort of like a pocket in pants, only big. After a few tries, and adding loops of cloth that she could hold it by, she was content with her pocket-esque sack. Then she started stuffing her few possessions in. Clothes. A few old hardcover books. The sack was too small, so she banished it and made a bigger one. Then she made another sack, and some food and cups of water again. After inspecting them, she realized that the food would get all mushed and mixed, and the water would spill out. It all vanished, then reappeared, this time with each type of food, and water, in a plastic sphere. But now how would she get at it all without spilling it? The third time was the charm, as she started over and this time made the plastic spheres have a small removable top.

...then she realized how silly she was being. She could just make food and water whenever she needed it. The same with clothes. No one would be there to tell her not to do things, or make what she wanted. She would be free.

That's when there were loud bangs from outside her door, startling her. Only a couple though. Then a pause...and then her door got hot. Really hot. Mary flinched back and abruptly found herself behind a sort of glass hemisphere that blocked off the door from her. She was glad too, because that moving metal wall was melting down, like candlewax or paraffin. And behind it was something bright. She shielded her eyes.

"Ready to go?" came a voice from the brightness. Her eyes were getting used to it. She could make out the outline of a person.

"But...is it...it's so hot..." she said, not wanting to come out from behind the glass shield lest she be burned up.

"Is it?" the apparition asked with gentle humor. "I can control the temperature. You'll be fine."

And sure enough, Mary realized that with the door's dissolution, the heat had largely vanished. It was still warm, more so than it had been, but it wasn't like standing in front of a furnace. She banished the shield and took a deep breath to calm herself.

"Okay, I'm ready."

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His golden eyes flick around the room, calculating. He adjusts easily as the floor shudders, never coming close to being unbalanced. Whatever’s hitting the facility is big. Each noise is definite structural damage.

Gold’s focus shifts to the structural integrity of his cage, but it’s solid. They never make mistakes with him. The last time they did he killed thirty people and made it halfway to the exit before they brought him down.

He sits down on his bench. His cell’s only a few meters wide, rectangular, a partition in a larger room. Monitoring equipment is set up and connected to the cell door. He reckons they have some kind of sensors built into the floor and walls to get readings on him in real time. Beyond that there’s his usual three man guard team.

“What the hell’s that?” One of them asks. Martin, his name is. He has a daughter. He’s the youngest and dumbest. Gold fingered him as the weak link.

“Sounds like an attack,” one of the others says.

The third turns his gun on Gold. “Don’t even think of trying something, mutie.”

Gold looks up, smiling. He makes eye contact. The man flinches back. Gold lets the man see whatever murder his mind is conjuring unfold through his eyes, lets him know how close he is to dying. “Seems to me,” he says softly, “that I’m not the mutie you need to worry about right now.”

“Do we kill him?” Martin sounds nervous.

The screams ring out.

“We should kill him.”

Gold’s heard this talk before. He just sits, waiting for whatever comes. His hands are loose in his lap. “Oh yes. I’m sure that’ll put them in a great mood, those muties. I’m sure they’ll just love the guy who killed another mutie.”

“You’ve killed muties too!” Martin turns and raises his rifle. It’s single-shot, H & K produced, a new model.

Gold nods. “That I have.”

Nothing else needs saying. He can feel his brain going into overdrive. Right behind his eyes he can feel images, all perceived but none given form.

There are shrieks from outside his room. Gold looks up at the distant cell door, past the rifle pointed at his head. “If I’m not mistaken,” he says, “you’re pointing that the wrong way.”

The guards are panicking now. One of them turns and raises his rifle. Gold feels his brain going into overdrive, he sees momentary flashes of the future, thousands of iterations where his brains are spread out on the wall behind him and he slumps, dead. The iterations he sees every night in his dreams.

But he’s not asleep, and he’s not dreaming. And his mind settles not on death, but life. He’s moving before the rifle is set, and dodging before it’s fired. The guard tries to adjust, Gold ducks low as he fires. The bullet goes over his shoulder, hits the back wall and ricochets off the metal. It hits the ground underneath him, ricochets again and then lodges itself in that same guard’s shoulder.

One in a million, Gold thinks. The golden boy.

He rises, flicking his long, shimmering hair as the door to the room comes apart in pieces and a man he’s never seen storms into the room.

The guards open fire but their bullets don’t hit.

Gold averts his eyes, looking straight at the man’s feet. His gaze can hurt anybody, friend or foe. “Uh, help here?” He points at his cell door.

He catches a grin from the guy in his periphery. The man gestures and his cell buckles, screaming as the steel twists apart.

Gold cricks his neck and walks out. The guards are out of play already. They can’t hurt the man in the door and they don’t have time to reload. He slides up behind the one on the right, reaches up and snaps his neck with a simple grab and twist. Then he turns on the other two.

“I believe someone wanted to kill a mutie?”

Martin goes for his sidearm.

The other soldier runs at him and takes a swing. Gold bobs out of the way and brings his other hand up between them, stiff-fingered. He slams his fingers into the man’s throat, crushing his trachea.

As he staggers backward choking, Gold steps in and throws a simple one-two to the chest. The first cracks his sternum, the second collapses his ribcage. One of the bones pierces his heart. Blood drips from his mouth.

Gold feels it playing out around him, his body playing out its role in futures part-seen and realized by a simple instinct to kill that which stands before him. He stalks towards Martin.

The boy raises his pistol and fires, but Gold’s dodged it three seconds before he pulls the trigger. “Saw that comin’,” he says.

He dodges twice more on the way in, always closing the distance, always dodging before the bullet is fired. On the fourth shot Martin even adjusts, but Gold just moves the other way instead.

Then he’s right in front of him. “Can I have that, please?”

The boy’s shaking. His eyes are wide. “I-I have a daughter.”

“I meant your gun,” Gold says.

Martin tries to hit him with it, but Gold’s forearm is rising already. He parries it, punches the boy in the shoulder. He feels it pop out of the socket and Martin screams. Gold twists and runs his hand up the length of his arm to strip the pistol out of his hand.

He turns to his rescuer and heads for the door, still careful not to make eye contact. “Let’s go.”

“What about him?”

Gold fires the gun at the floor. The bullet ricochets twice and hits Martin in the head. He lets out a soft gasp, and collapses.

“He’s no problem,” Gold says as he steps out into the corridor beyond, clean and unmarked.

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Travis had no sooner rent the door from the hinges of the tiny cell than the mutant inside had burst forth in a whirlwind of death. Bemused, Travis just watched as the man apparently known as Gold, slew the remaining guards; all save one. "What about him?" Travis asked, already prepared to end the man's life regardless of the answer.

A gunshot bounced around him and shattered the last man's skull. “He’s no problem,” Gold replied as he stepped past Travis into the corridor.

"Huh," Travis said, a touch of amusement in his voice. He turned, gliding out in the other man's wake. "Sol is busting us out," he told Gold as he peered down the hall. "He said to meet him outside, sooo ..." Travis was looking at the ceiling, "You might want to cover your eyes. And maybe take a step back." He lashed out at the ceiling, kinetic force cracking and then shattering through lights and conduits, as the skinny young man tore a fresh egress through the concrete. In mere seconds a jagged hole over five feet across gaped above them; fresh air and warm sunlight flowed in, as tiny pieces of broken cement and dust floated down.

"Damn, but that does look inviting." With a gesture a flat hunk of broken wall floated a foot into the air near Gold, "Step on, I'll get us outside. I'm sure there'll be plenty of blips outside to work out our frustrations on." Gold's head shook slightly and he took a short running start before leaping off the pile of debris that chocked the now ruined corridor. He hit the wall with his legs flexed and rebounded immediately, hand lashing out and grabbing a length of rebar that jutted from the broken concrete above. Like an Olympic gymnast he made the flip and somersault look easy, hurtling through the hole into the sky and landing on the roof nearly silently. Travis floated up behind his, a quiet and impressed whistle passing his lips, "So you are like ... crazy ninja guy or something? Mutant physical awesomeness I take it?"

"Something like that," Gold didn't look back over his shoulder at Travis, his eyes were on the compound now spread out before them. He looked ready to pounce almost.

To Travis' eyes the numerous guards, vehicles, and secondary structures looked like a playground; toys enough for sharing, with more coming to "play with". His eyes narrowed, and a malicious gleam entered them, This is gonna be fun. "I'm gonna hit right, you take left. When the glowing guy blasts out he's gonna have two others with him and then I guess we get going." Travis was already gliding forward on his floating hunk of concrete, somehow not looking ridiculous with his bare feet, pajama pants, and bare torso, his tall and scrawny figure was certainly not intimidating on its own, and the five year case of bed-head didn't help, but despite that, Gold could see the power in the young mutant.

With a whoop Travis sped up, diving for the hard packed dirt, riding the flying platform less like a surfer or a snowboarder, and more like he was merely standing still and the world moved around him. Gold was forgotten behind him, before him were targets; blips who were part of the system that had ruined his life for twenty years. I've got five years of catching up to do, he thought as he sped forward. A blast of raw power lanced outward from his extended hand, men were sent hurtling through the air, or pounded into the ground as it passed, a HUMVEE crumpled like paper at its impact. Travis was laughing maniacally as all around him men and machines met their end.

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The glow faded to a more manageable level. The man stepped behind her and said, “Let’s get the collar off of you.”

Mary hesitated, her fingers grabbing at it. “It’s…” LaCroix had said it wasn’t medicine, but what if she was wrong?

“It’s not medicine,” David reassured her, and there was something about his voice that inspired confidence. “I’m going to freeze this, pull it off and toss it down the hallway. I’m going to do it fast, so don’t be scared, alright?”

Mary nodded tightly. There was a hiss the made her flinch along with a breath of cold; then the collar was open and off her neck. She only had enough time to regret her decision, for fear to set in, before the collar exploded, rocking their hallway. Mary stared at the black mark that had been the collar.

“Are you alright?” David smiled at Mary and offered her his hand. After a second’s hesitation, she took it. “Let’s take you out of here,” he said gently before turning and leading her out into the hallway. She’d never been out here before, and her eyes were wide as she looked around the area, studying the hall with curiosity. It wasn’t that much different than her room, but it was different.

There were also burn marks and charcoal smears which took her a moment to identify. She opened her mouth to ask when he released her hand, stepped in front of her and shot a blast of golden light down the hallway. It hurt Mary’s eyes to see it and left an afterimage when it was done. Somewhere else, something rumbled as if exploding. “What was that?” she asked – and before he could answer, there were soldiers in the opening he’d just made.

Mary screamed as they fired, but a wall of white fire rose between them, the bullets melting before they passed through the shield. David’s eyes narrowed contemptuously, and another sun flare burned down the hallway. This time it set the men on fire or turned them into black lumps immediately. “Stay behind me,” David ordered, and all of the gentleness was gone. He strode forward through the door he’d made. A soldier approached and Mary winced, turning away before she could see someone else die. She missed David striking the man with a burning fist, but she still heard his screaming. It was a nightmare to her.

Lamia had never tried to break out of her cell, but she’d imagined how many times. The heavy steel door was formidable, but she had long ago figured out that the hinges were the weak link. She ripped them apart and swung the door on its latches, just enough for her to get out. The woman’s heart was pounding as she took her first free steps in years.

She looked both ways; to the left, her hallway ended, but to the right, a man walked down the corridor toward her. Miniature suns danced on his hands, throwing shadows around insanely. Behind him was a shell-shocked young woman, one who was shaking like a leaf. “Lamia,” the man called, “we’ve come to release you.” His eyes darted down to her bloody legs and back up. “I see you’re ready to go.”

Gold, Travis, feel free to tear shit up and have fun; next round of posts (Sunday) I’ll start the hard combat numbers.

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She barely spared a glance for the gore covering her lower half. She considered the man for a moment, then said with frank honesty, "If you try to take me to another prison, you'll have to kill me or die. I've spent enough centuries in small rooms. Understood?"

She hadn't relaxed yet, her body quivering with the need to move and be free of steel and concrete walls. She knew she didn't know much about the modern world, but she had heard enough to know how her children and descendants were used and that some of them served willingly. This man might be smelting down this prison, but there were others. There were always others.

The barest flick of her eyes was the only indication that she'd even seen the other woman. She didn't know if she was another escapee or a partner that had come in with the man juggling suns. Escapee, she decided, noting the leaf-like shaking and the wide eyes. Well, I hope she can do something useful. She certainly doesn't look like much.

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Rage embraced him; an old friend, an ally. For ten years rage had been Travis' nigh-constant companion, spurring him on to strike blow after blow at the humans who made his life hell, who ruined the lives of millions of mutants. After five years in cold dreamless slumber Travis embraced his old friend and brother.

Soldiers died in droves, slain by a young man who looked almost sickly; tall, and rail thin, it seemed as though a strong breeze would blow him away, and yet those who looked on him saw that even the wind did not touch him. The simple cotton pants hung down, unmoving, as he cut through the air on his slab of concrete. Even his hair, wildly unkempt after a long sleep, refused to so much as wave or ruffle through breeze or motion. Under his mad blonde hair, blue eyes cried for murder, in a face that was pale from lack of sun. Around him nothing the soldiers did amounted to anything. Bullets mashed against his skin as though it were plate steel inches thick. Columns and blasts of force pulverized men and stone, or tore limbs from bodies, and worse.

A group of men somehow managed enough courage to assemble a pair of AT4 missile launchers. Travis flicked out a strand of power and grabbed one of them by his head. The man screamed as he rose into the air, and fell silent just a quickly as Travis broke his neck by twirling the man's body before flinging him into the other three men. The three were sent sprawling and Travis quickly flattened them and the surrounded area with a hammer-blow of force.

Despite the sun and the unseasonably warm weather Travis shivered. “Fuck, I need some socks, and maybe a shirt.” He looked around, casually swatting men like cockroaches, crushing them easily, until he spotted the barracks. Gliding over to the building he tore the roof off with a moment's effort and drifted down into the building. Rummaging through men's trunks he quickly found a pair of socks, and sighed gratefully as he slid his feet into them. A few more minutes turned up a handful of other clothing that fit. Black jeans, an olive green tee, and a leather jacket, hardly standard fatigues, for which Travis was glad.

Looking down Travis wiggled his sock-clad toes, “OK, I guess maybe shoes don't suck entirely.” He located a pair of boots and shoved his feet into them, not bothering to lace them up. “Better,” he mumbled, rising up through the missing roof and out into the open sky once more. He turned back to the main building, looking to see if Sol was out yet.

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He thought he’d be angrier. Sitting in the cage it seemed obvious he would be, with his chance to claim vengeance on the men who treated him like an animal for so many years.

Yet when he moves, he feels cold, his nerves are tight, running on a knife edge tension. His head throbs as he processes thousands of futures, working overtime to see what’s coming and make his body move fast enough to avoid them. He feels like a fish, jumping in and out of the stream of time. It doesn’t quite feel real. He exists five seconds in the future, where he isn’t dead, and his enemies are.

There are four in front of him, military men with grim faces and guns. He glares at them, letting them see their murder unfolding behind his eyes. Two flinch. One backs away, face breaking into terror. The fourth shoots.

Gold jumps, the bullet passes between his legs. He flips and brings the heel of his foot down on the guard’s head. His skull cracks and a piece of it breaks away clean on the inside and pierces his brain.

He lands, steps in and slams his elbow into the face of the second, cracking his nose. He spins and brings the edge of his hand into the back of the man’s neck. It snaps clean in two. The next man snaps out of it enough to raise his rifle, but Gold kicks it aside, spins and scythes a roundhouse into his head. His neck goes, too.

The fourth drops onto his butt, looking up with horror. Gold stalks him down, expressionless. This is old news. This isn’t even the pits. It doesn’t have the tainted glory of that. He can’t lose this fight, he can’t die. They don’t have a collar on him. They’ve got nothing.

Gold finishes him off with a simple blow to the chest that stops his heart. He’s not even sure how that happens. His head starts hurting again and he quickly rubs his eye. That’s how it works. He can feel the future he’s creating. He knows what killed the first three men, even though he couldn’t see it. He guesses his head couldn’t process the information quick enough. Gold runs half on autopilot in battle, letting his subconscious and his instincts do the work.

He moves between a truck and a low building, maybe a barracks or a storehouse.

Behind him and across the compound, Travis is ripping things up but good, bouncing guards around like toy soldiers fresh out of the box. They would have gotten a kick out of him in the pit, Gold thinks. Though I doubt he would have lasted long. The guy doesn’t seem very controlled. That could be bad if they ever have to fight side by side. He can go first I think. I’ll take up the rear. Or I will once I find a bigger gun.

Gold ejects the clip on his pistol, checks the rounds, then slams it back in and cocks the gun. He goes over the bodies of the dead men, keeping low and in the shadow of the truck. Everyone’s focused on Travis. He finds some spare ammo, and one of them has a belt with a holster. He takes that and puts it on, wishing he had a second holster. Two guns are better than one when both hands do what you tell them.

He prefers sniper rifles over the assault variety, but anything works. He killed a man with a paper clip once. The guards’ rifles are too heavy for his liking, though, so he leaves them where they are, taking the time only to eject the clips and toss them away.

The air is filled with screaming and shouts, of engines starting up and klaxons blaring. Gold watches guards run by him after Travis. Someone will wander here eventually.

An explosion rocks him, but there’s no clue to indicate what caused it.

Gold feels pressure building in the back of his head, followed by a sudden, burning sense of danger.

He throws himself sideways and turns, sees the guard taking aim at his head. Both men fire at once, but only one is where the other expects. Gold’s shot takes him in the forehead.

Other men appear out of the woodwork. Gold twirls and rolls on the ground, like a spider in spasm, firing his pistols with every twitch.

Ten men fall, each pistol goes down by five bullets. He hears shouts and running feet, takes the time to reload. Fight to live, he thinks, or die trying.

Gold crosses his stolen guns across his chest, sets his jaw, and prepares for his coming future.

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Not a minute out of her room and Mary was already feeling more trapped than she ever had. For all her naivete, she wasn't stupid. It was immediately apparent to her that this escape was leaving destruction and death in its wake...exactly what she'd feared, and what LaCroix had assured her wouldn't happen. But what could she do NOW? Seeing David move, she realized she couldn't escape. She could try to make a wall or something between them, but judging from the looks of things, walls didn't slow him down much. Worst though was that as much as she wanted to flee, she wanted to live more. Staying at David's side seemed, to the cold hard nugget of self-preservation in her brain, to be the best bet for that. She had to at least pretend to be his friend, for now.

Then she turned around, saw the blood-covered woman, and emitted a startled yelp. She immediately turned red and said as she tried to think straight, "I'm sorry...you startled me! Don't panic, I...I know some first aid. From a book. It looks like...like we need to stop the blee...ding..."

She trailed off as she stepped closer and took a better look at the woman's legs. Not bleeding, just bloody.

Not her blood.

Mary swallowed thickly and whispered, "Oh my god." She looked up and asked in a shaking voice, "What did you do?"

It wasn't a question she wanted to hear the answer to, really. But she couldn't stop herself from asking.

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Lamia arched a brow at the girl's question and shrugged, her eyes staying on David. "I killed the people who had been imprisoning me, raping me, and stealing my children for the past six or seven decades. Violently." Her tone wasn't harsh, just deadly matter-of-fact. She was done being a victim and she was going to make certain that these two strangers understood that in no uncertain terms.

The sounds of death and violence was getting steadily louder; walls were breaking somewhere and large-caliber guns began staccato shots outside. She's wait only a few more seconds for the sun-man's answer before leaving without them, if necessary.

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“I don’t enslave mutants,” he told Lamia bluntly. “We’re here to rescue everyone here.” His gray eyes settled on Mary. “Those that wish to be free. Come, we don’t have much time. They’ll be sending reinforcements soon.”

David turned and blasted another hole in a wall and this time it opened to the outside. Lamia’s heart hurt a little more as she realized how close freedom had been all the time. As he stepped outside, he pulled out a cell phone and dialed it. Before it could pick up, he glanced up and frowned. “Damn it,” the man muttered, then handed the phone to Lamia. “Keep that working. Don’t let it shut off or break until you see the black hole. Then run for the black hole. I have someone to take care of.”


Above the battle, a slice of white appeared in the sky. It opened like an eye, a revealing somewhere else beyond it. For a second, Travis and Gold were able to see that there was a lab or something; they saw a man wearing black goggles peering at them. Then he nodded and stepped back and a woman shot through the opening. The portal snapped shut on her heels.

She was impressive; there was no other word for her. Dark blonde hair cut shoulder-length whipped around her face, which was hard and square. It was feminine, but not completely. She also wasn’t mannish; her face walked that fine line between the genders. Her body was another story. Though she wore formless BDUs, it was clear she was impossibly muscled for a woman, displaying a tone and definition that even professional body builders never achieved. Even before her fall slowed and arced back up, she was obviously a mutant. Gray eyes took in the combat, narrowing with distaste. Then she shot toward Travis.

The woman was fast. He barely had time to comprehend she was in motion before the Superwoman slammed into him. A sonic boom tore the air as Travis’s kinetic shields frantically bled off the force of her attack. The blow of her shoulder ramming his gut should have blacked him out or snapped his spine like celery. Instead, he was fully conscious when she drove them of them into the ground, the concrete, rock and dirt shattering into dust and gravel around them.

Darkness closed around Travis as he found himself buried in a hole. She pulled herself out of it, frowning a little when she realized he was conscious. “Kinetic,” she mumbled, looking annoyed.

“Do you like it rough?” he asked and threw a wave of energy at her. It plastered her hair back and ripped at her clothing, but he didn’t think it had hurt her.

“You should have been killed, Kinetic,” she snarled, drawing back her arm. "Time to remedy that oversight."

“Amanda!” The shout snapped her head around and the woman scowled at Sol as he rose into the air, drawing her eyes away from Lamia and Mary.

“Later, pest,” she told Travis just before she shot away in a burst of speed that left his shields shimmering and kicking up grit again. She shot toward Sol with that same speed, and the man turned into living light as she came at him.

“This will be a hell of a fight,” Travis muttered, getting ready to help. Instead, a bolt of energy snapped through the air next to him. Startled, the mutant turned to see a man leaping at him. He leapt like a mutant, but Travis had never seen a mutant that had to wear a suit like that. Gold found himself facing a similar opponent, while Lamia and Mary were confronted by a tank that had rolled around the corner of the building.

Combat is on. Announce intentions in your next post and give me initiatives in that post. Make any rolls you need as well and I’ll resolve in my next post.

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She took the item, staring at it dubiously. She had no idea what might turn it off but she was pretty sure she could break it easily. Her eyes widened when the tank came around the corner; she knew what that was, at least in general. Memories from over half a century ago flashed across her mind. She cradled the item she'd been given by the sun-man and tugged on Mary's sleeve. "This way. Those things can't hit you close up. Just stick to the sides, near to the wheels but not in their way and we'll only have to deal with soldiers."

Matching word to deeds she sprinted towards the tank, veering just enough to come up next to it instead of in front of the bone (and device) crushing treads.

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Mary stared at the tank dumbly, or at least that's what appeared to be happening. The truth was more complex. The tank was the most complex thing Mary had ever been exposed to. She was awestruck. It was a symphony of atoms and molecules, loud and brassy, full of discord and harmony. It had more layers than an onion. Paint and steel stiffened with carbon backed by sandwiches of ceramics and more steel and plastics and more steel. Cylinders of brass and uranium and a combination of chemicals that screamed of volatility. Masses of silicon and copper and aluminum arranged in precise patterns to regulate electrical flow and mold it into calculating engines and tactical displays. And all of it intended to kill and destroy.

It was going to do that to this woman...this murderess she'd barely met. But she remembered what she'd said about her time there. It had shocked, and she still wasn't sure what to make of it, but her face had said it was no lie. And now the thing was going to kill her.

Intended Action

Mary's mind strains, stretches, to hold the biggest, strangest, most complex thing it has ever encountered. It makes her feel ill, like someone who's eaten an entire Thanksgiving feast by oneself. Even so, she manages to take it in...

The tank...shimmers for a moment, like a mirage. A bad dream. For an instant it's simply not there.

(Toughness is -10, as a construct or object it gains no save versus this, I believe, and damage DC of 25. Any 'damage' is represented by parts that vanish and do not return. If the tank survives this, Mary will Move as necessary to take cover.)


20 (http://invisiblecast...r/view/3412296/)

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The woman had been impressively strong, strong enough that his kinetic strength versus her own muscles might have made for an interesting fight, but when lightning shot past him on a sunny morning that got his attention. "What the fuck was that?!" Travis' head swung away from the the woman and locked onto the incoming un-friendly. The newcomer was some kind of lightning spitting robo-blip, and as far as Travis was concerned that was just not cool.

With a heaved sigh Travis launched into the air. Thankfully there was wreckage to spare in the area, mostly thanks to his previous efforts to work out five years of pent up aggression; a flick of power, a trick that he had long ago patiently practiced until he could do it without losing focus on his offensive powers, and a sphere of rubble and ruin and wreckage surrounded him; let the tech monkey shoot lightning at him all it wanted, he could block it now. With a snarl he rose up higher, clearing two hundred feet in mere seconds, his globe making him stand out against the sky, but not obscuring his superior tactical view at all. With a smirk, Travis mimed winding up with an imaginary golf club, and then swung, his telekinetic force slamming into the EBS trooper like a freight train.

Init Roll & deets
HP: 1, Condition: fine, if slightly irritated at the robo-blip

[jameson] 9:37 am: Initiative (+6)

jameson *rolls* 1d20: 7+6: 13

[jameson] 9:37 am: can I get a hell yeah?

[Jeremy] 9:37 am: heh

[Jeremy] 9:37 am: I witnessness this

[jameson] 9:38 am: good enough

Free Action: Activate Kinetic Shields → toughness vs incoming energy is now +10

Move Action: Rising ~200 feet into the air via flight

Standard Action: Kinetic Impact & Throw → Travis uses his Move Object 9 to hit the EBS trooper. This is Perception range so the EBS makes a DC 24 Toughness check (against the damage) and furthermore a Strength Check against DC 19 (10+9 ranks of move object), if he succeeds, he has dug in and does not get tossed, if he fails he go flying. Subtract his Mass Rank (probably rank 2 or 3) from Rank 9 to determine the distance rank of the push/throw/shove (probably around 1800 feet to 1/2 mile).

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The troops fall back. Most likely they’ve been told to take a safe distance to let the guys with super powers do their thing. Gold watches as Kincaid is tackled into the wall, but he gets back up. He stays hidden but he knows he’s been seen and there’s nowhere else he can move to right now.

Then the newcomer is heading his way, clad in some sort of powered suit. He wonders for a moment if it’s a mutant he’s looking at or a tech-enhanced human. It’s hard to tell for sure, but it doesn’t matter either way.

Gold takes a deep breath and stares his attacker down, unleashing the possible futures in his mind on the man, letting him see all the ways that he could die in the next few seconds.

Intended action: Activating Eyes of the killer on the attacker

Initiative roll: 9+7 = 16

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Lamia ducked next to the tank and took cover. It was only then that she realized that Marry wasn’t following her. Mary was standing there and staring the tank move, her eyes wide as she stared at the machine. A moment later there was a terrible grinding noise from the tank but it didn’t stop moving. Mary then skittered for cover.

Gold’s terrible eyes bore into the Rapid Responder’s gaze. The man stiffened in fear, his limbs starting to shake. But he didn’t falter.

The tank operator quickly realized the problem she was facing. With a string of curses, she realized that the two women she’d started to attack weren’t going to cooperate and she cuoldn’t even see them anymore. With a snarl, she instead target she could see – the man with the blonde hair hanging in the air. The main cannon focused on him and then she pulled the trigger.

Meanwhile, Travis smashed the robo-blip in front of him with burst of kinetic power. The blip did exactly what Travis didn’t want him to do. He dropped into a crouch, ducked his head and let the raw power pass over him.

Then the tank’s shell smashed into him. As he was still dealing with that, the robo-blip stood up and fired his electric cannon at Travis, slamming into him.

Gold was facing his own attacker; the man practically telegraphed his moves as he struck at Gold. Gold danced away from him with contemptuous ease.


Lamia – 27

Mary – 20

Gold – 16

Tank – 14

Travis – 13

RR – 4

Rolls for first round

The tank has lost 10 PP of Toughness. There is still a tank there.

Toughness Save vs Damage: 11+13 = 24 vs DC 25, -1 Toughness

RR #1 [attacked by Trav] Toughness save: 3+14 = 17 vs DC 24

Villain Point reroll: 8 => 18+14 = 32, saves

Travis, have a Hero Point

RR #1 [attacked by Trav] Strength Check: 17+6 = 23 vs DC 19

RR #2 [attacked by Gold] Will Check: 15+2 = 17 vs DC 19, target is Vulnerable

Tank [attacking Travis] Blast attack: 19+10 = 29 vs DC 18

Damage DC is 25 (Fire)

RR #1 [attacking Travis] Electric Cannon: 20+6 = 26 vs 28, Hit but not a crit

Damage DC is 25

RR #2 [attacking Gold] Electric punch: 8+8 = 16 vs DC 25, miss

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Lamia frowned and straitened up. She was not going to be taken again, and if the sun-man could get her out of here, then he would be free to do so. Her mind raced backward in time to a place and an age where her word was more than law and the gift of her protection was absolute.

An arm shot into the wheels of the tank, rending metal until her fingers found firm purchase on the rods holding the entire tread in place. She spotted the sun-man in the sky with the traitor that he'd called Amanda; her eyes narrowed as that part of her that had slumbered through a Dark Age, a Renaissance, and an age laughable titled the Enlightenment woke in a roar of fury. The tank groaned and the woman inside swore as she felt the entire machine pulled free of the ground; she screamed as she felt the rush of momentum pin her to the seat as her instruments calmly informed her that she was now facing the sky and the growing figures of Sol and Brawl.

David frowned as Amanda rushed through him another time, her hair singing at the edges as she swore at him. This was going nowhere...like it always does, he thought with annoyance. Where is Tyrone?

Amanda rounded in the air and started back towards him; he sighed and turned around just in time to see a tank slam into her.

Throwing the tank

Malachite *rolls* 1d10: 2+8: 10

[Varro] 10:45 pm:

Malachite *rolls* 1d20: 20+8: 28

[Malachite] 10:46 pm: Will someone witness those two for me?

[envoy] 10:46 pm: witnessed.

1 HP spent for reroll

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The debris field orbiting Travis absorbed the high explosive shell, shattering concrete and incinerating or melting what remained. Fire and heat washed over Travis, concussive force, no bother at all to him, hurled and distorted the field opening a crucial gap. That gap and the impact opened Travis up for a perfect shot by the soldier with his energy cannon. Lightning flashed, out slammed into Travis and burned through his nervous system. Agonizing pain coursed through his body.

For a second he blacked out, but luck, or will, bore him through. He dropped like a stone, simply ceasing to maintain the force holding him up. He dropped like a rock amid the still orbiting debris and hit the ground with a painless thud, landing in a crouch, his eyes narrowed and focused on the roboblip. "Time to die motherfucker," he muttered, a bolt of force lancing out at the soldier and slamming into the man with the power of a runaway semi.

rolly polly
[Travis Kincaid] 7:01 pm: Toughness +10 vs Cannon DC 25

Travis Kincaid *rolls* 1d20: 12+10: 22

Injury, -1 to further damage checks

[Travis Kincaid] 7:01 pm: and now against the RR e-beam @ Toughness +9 vs DC 30

Travis Kincaid *rolls* 1d20: 6+9: 15

[Travis Kincaid] 7:01 pm: yeeesh

[Asarasa] 7:01 pm: Ick!

[Asarasa] 7:02 pm: Heroic Reroll?

[Travis Kincaid] 7:02 pm: staggered or spend a HP?

[Travis Kincaid] 7:02 pm: hmm, choices

[Travis Kincaid] 7:02 pm: HP I guess

Travis Kincaid *rolls* 1d20: 11+9: 20

[Asarasa] 7:02 pm: Travis - Might I suggest Seth Bullock to play Tyr or Heimdall?

[Travis Kincaid] 7:02 pm: DOH!

[Asarasa] 7:03 pm: Well, not staggered at least.

Travis Kincaid shakes his fist at the heavens!

Dazed and a further injury for a -2 total penalty on damage resistance

Free Action: not maintaining flight, dropping like a stone

Move Action: none, dazed, but gravity does work its mysterious ways

Standard Action: Kinetic Impact & Throw → Travis uses his Move Object 9 to hit the EBS trooper. This is Perception range so the EBS makes a DC 24 Toughness check (against the damage) and furthermore a Strength Check against DC 19 (10+9 ranks of move object), if he succeeds, he has dug in and does not get tossed, if he fails he go flying. Subtract his Mass Rank (probably rank 2 or 3) from Rank 9 to determine the distance rank of the push/throw/shove (probably around 1800 feet to 1/2 mile).

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I bring my guns up to shoot but he’s on me too quick so I let both weapons drop.

He throws at my head, going for a standard combination of jabs and crosses. I spin back and duck, then stick my head right out and grin. It’s been years since someone came at me and it feels good. My blood’s rising, and I can almost hear the voices swelling up in cheers around me. The pit wasn’t good times, but it’s the closest thing to glory I ever touched.

Head movement’s all I need. He’s thrown off. His eyes are hazel, and I can see fear in them. He’s locked eyes with me. He knows I’m playing, as if the grin on my face didn’t scream that from the rooftops already.

I jerk back then twist my hips, taking quick, accurate steps. None of his punches come close. I tense up my shoulder, dodge twice more but on the second blow I twist towards him, pivoting on my back foot to pile-drive a punch right down the line of his arm. His punch goes under my armpit and mine follows the rail towards his grit-toothed face.

Gold is using Killing Touch with a +2/-2 power attack, Killing Touch has a 17-20 crit range due to improved critical

WhiteRain.vc *rolls* 1d20: 2: 2+10 = 12

[WhiteRain.vc] 1:57 pm: oh dear

[jameson] 1:58 pm: HP will reroll and increase any result from 1 to 10 by +10 (making it an 11-20 garaunteed roll)

[jameson] 1:58 pm: shit, i have a meeting, I'll be back soonish

[WhiteRain.vc] 1:59 pm: Might as well spend that then

[WhiteRain.vc] 1:59 pm: Would have been awesome if I'd critted or something but a mere hit will do

[WhiteRain.vc] 2:04 pm: Anyone else that can witness the reroll?

[Jeremy] 2:32 pm: back

[Jeremy] 2:32 pm: hey

[Jeremy] 2:32 pm: I can witness

[Lobby]: Long6 has entered at 2:35 pm

[jameson] 2:37 pm: back

[jameson] 2:37 pm: for a couple anyway

[Jeremy] 2:37 pm: hey

[Jeremy] 2:37 pm: wb

[jameson] 2:39 pm: If you roll a nat 20 on the re-roll it is still a crit

WhiteRain.vc *rolls* 1d20: 18: 18+10 = 28

[WhiteRain.vc] 2:43 pm: ooo

[WhiteRain.vc] 2:43 pm: crit

1 HP spent for reroll

Damage effect is str 3+5 effect+2 power attack+5 crit = 15

for DC 30 check against opponent

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Mary gaped from her hiding place around the corner of the building from the tank. Her ability hadn't been enough...the tank was too big, too complicated. She hadn't been able to affect it all, but she understood it better now than she had before. In particular she was aware of how heavy it was, and to see the woman throw it so casually...it was terrifying. And wonderful. All at the same time.

The sound of gunfire caught her ear, and she looked around to see another man falling from the sky. He was smoking from his chest. With relief Mary realized he'd landed safely...more or less...but there were people near him. People in metal suits, carrying...were those weapons? She'd never seen devices like them, but...they had to be!

After the tank, she wasn't sure if her ability to make things disappear would work on them, so she tried something else. The tank's 'skin' was made of stuff she'd never seen before. Iron and magnesium and carbon and titanium and aluminum in precise quantities, all mixed together and layered over alternating layers of ceramic mixtures and carbon-based polymer chains. They worked together, she thought, to stop weapons from being able to damage its internal systems. But what would stop weapons from getting in would also stop them from getting out.

For an instant, one of the suits of power armor saw the world go dark. The pilot had just enough time to realize something was happening, something was forming around him. If he didn't move fast, and now, it would be too late to avoid.

(Create Object on one of the power armor guys to create an armored metal dome covering him. He gets a Reflex Dodge save at DC 20 to get out of the dome's area just before it forms. Otherwise he'll have to blast his way out.)

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[Round Two]

The tank hurtling through the air was only a taste of why the mutants had been locked away for so long. The power evident in Lamia’s slight frame was beyond anything the humans could handle. The tank and the operator were pulverized as they bent around Brawl’s tough body. The woman herself seemed unfazed, though she was knocked from her elevation before catching herself.

Another human was approaching to engage; this was something Mary could handle, and with no loss of life! Eagerly, the young woman reached out and manipulated the fabric of reality itself. A dome of metal closed over the man, stopping his forward motion - and likely saving his life.

Gold moved in close, his crazy awesome ninja moves incredible to behold. His punch smashed into the man’s mask, but a last second twist to the side turned a sure punch into a glancing blow that didn’t even jar the man.

Travis’s burst of kinetic power ripped out from him again and this time the RR was a little slow in getting down. The soldier crouched and gripped the ground, but was battered by the wave of energy, even as it failed to throw him into the air – again.

Brawl pulled a piece of metal out of her hair and wiped a glob of oil off her face. She looked up at her brother, annoyed. He was proving to be most annoying, and now there was another player. Brawl knew who Lamia was, and what she meant to the US breeding program. And there was no small amount of jealousy that motivated Brawl to draw a deep breath and fire a blast of super-frigid air at Lamia.

An arc of bright sun intercepted the blast of cold air. “Amanda, you’re here for me,” David reminded his sister as he hovered a little closer to her.

Mindless of the family drama going on over them, the poor RR’s continued their work. The one who had barely escaped Travis’s wrath came up from his crouch like a football player and throwing himself into a punch. Sparks snapped and sizzled around his fists as the Rapid Responder slammed a charge fist into Travis’s chest.

Gold had the opposite problem; his opponent realized he was out matched and leapt way from fisticuffs range. As he landed, he lobbed an electrical bomb at the gold-haired mutant, trusting that the bomb would fry him.


Lamia – 27

Mary – 20

Gold – 16

Travis – 13

Sol – 4

Brawl – 4

RR – 4

Round Two Resolution Rolls

Brawl [attacked by Lamia] Toughness save vs DC 23 – ignored

RR #1 [attacked by Travis] Toughness save vs DC 23 6+14 = 20, fail by one degree, -1 Toughness

RR #1 [kockback from Travis] Strength save vs DC 19 20+6 = 26, Save

RR #3 [attacked by Mary] Dodge save vs DC 20 11+2 = 13, Trapped

RR #2 [attacked by Gold] Toughness save vs DC 30 20+7 = 27, crit turns it from one degree of failure to a save

Round Two Action Rolls

Brawl [attacking Lamia] Ice Breath vs DC 18 20 1+14 = 15, fail!

Sol resets initiative to 4, uses Sun Arc (Deflect) to protect Lamia vs DC 2+8[+10] = 20

RR #1 [attacking Travis] using Charge with Electrical Punch vs DC 9 17+8-2 = 23

Damage DC is 23 (electrical)

RR #2 [attacking Gold] move action to get back 60, using Electrical Bombs (area)

Gold Dodge vs DC 18 – if he succeeds, DC on damage is 19; otherwise, its DC 23

PC Required Rolls

Travis Toughness save DC 23

Gold Dodge save vs DC 18

---if he saves, then DC is 19

---if he fails, then DC 23

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Crap! The exoskeleton enhanced trooper wasted no time in covering the ground between himself and Travis. Charging like a bull at a matador the electrified gauntlet lashed out at the mutant trailing ozone and blue sparks. Travis wasn't a close combat fighter; being invulnerable to physical impact had meant that he had nothing to fear from punches, kicks, swords, and more. Never before had he encountered a reason to fear an opponent in hand to hand combat, but then again he'd never had to worry about blips throwing lightning and attacking him with energized gauntlets. A desperate mental parry slung a watermelon sized hunk of reinforced concrete into the path of the trooper's fist. Cement and aggregate exploded, chips and shards and the twisted rebar within slammed into Travis. He felt none of it however, and the energized fist never made contact with him. Too close for comfort! Those suits are going to be a problem. I hope they don't have a lot of them. Travis wished he hadn't dropped from the sky, he hadn't realized how much ground the robot clad blip could cover.

"Eat shit and die motherfucker!" Travis crowed at the trooper. He took to the air immediately, launching into the sky once more, and hammering down blow after blow on the man below, "You won't take me again, I'll die first!" Rage pressed in on Travis, his vision seeming to go red as he continued to lay into the exo-suited man, like some kind of feral beast.

rolls n stuff
[jameson] 9:45 am: ok, I need to roll toughness for Travis

[jameson] 9:45 am: Toughness +9 vs DC 23

jameson *rolls* 1d20: 3+9: 12

[jameson] 9:46 am:

[Long6] 9:46 am: ouch

[jameson] 9:46 am: popping a HP

jameson *rolls* 1d20: 16+9: 25

Long6 pats Travis on the shoulder

[Long6] 9:46 am: been 'dere

[jameson] 9:46 am: 25, full save

Free action: cursing mightily, maintaining shield

Move action: active flight and move upward 500 feet

Standard Action: Kinetic Impact → Travis uses his Move Object 9 to hit the EBS trooper. This is Perception range so the EBS makes a DC 24 Toughness check against the damage. This is straight down into the ground, so he may need to make a DC 19 Str check to avoid falling prone at the GM's call.

SURGE! Standard Action: Travis repeats his initial attack with Kinetic Impact → Travis uses his Move Object 9 to hit the EBS trooper. This is Perception range so the EBS makes a DC 24 Toughness check against the damage. This is straight down into the ground, so he may need to make a DC 19 Str check to avoid falling prone at the GM's call.

SURGE! Standard Action: Travis finishes by once more battering the trooper with the full force of his power hoping to send him flying. Kinetic Impact & Throw → Travis uses his Move Object 9 to hit the EBS trooper. This is Perception range so the EBS makes a DC 24 Toughness check (against the damage) and furthermore a Strength Check against DC 19 (10+9 ranks of move object), if he succeeds, he has dug in and does not get tossed, if he fails he go flying. Subtract his Mass Rank (probably rank 2 or 3) from Rank 9 to determine the distance rank of the push/throw/shove (probably around 1800 feet to 1/2 mile).

Travis will become Fatigued and then Exhausted on the start of his next turn.

HPs: 1, Conditions: -1 on damage checks

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My fist connects but his armour, or his skeleton, or whatever, holds. There’s a world of futures where that punch shatters his nose and the bone splinters impale his brain. I missed them by a fraction of a thought. Which sucks, but hey, whoever said freedom would come easy?

Still, I know when I’m ahead. Brown eyes knows it, too. He tries to hit me but it’s as easy to keep dodging. He’s defensive even as he throws at me, pulling his arms back before I can grab them or connect with his wrists or elbows.

Then when I lunge he flips backwards. I see the grenade being dropped as he goes, and I try and do the same, but my jump’s too narrow. The thing goes off in my face and all I can do is crunch up against the pain.

I force myself forward, roll and grab my guns, hoping they weren’t fried. I find out when I open fire. There’s no pre-planning, I just run off instinct, let the backbrain do its work. Let’s see where the bullets go.

Defense roll: 1 + 15 = 16 fail

Toughness roll: 17 + 3 (-2 for prior failures) = 20 failure by 3

Move action to pick up his guns

Precision Shot: 5 + 12 = 17

[Jeremy] 2:35 am: the guy has a Dodge of 2

[jameson] 2:35 am: they have crappy D

[Jeremy] 2:35 am: so 17 vs 12 means Multiattack also kicks in

[Jeremy] 2:35 am: so you got DC 15+8+2=25

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Lamia glanced over the group of mutants and made her choice. She ripped a chunk of concrete from the wall near her and took aim, hoping to smash one of the humans hounding her people into a bloody smear on the pavement. The piece of wall cut through the air near Gold, headed for his bomb-throwing opponent.

Throw Roll
Malachite *rolls* 1d20: 9+8: 17

[Carver] 3:42 am: Witty!

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Encouraged by her success, Mary focused on the other metal-clad man. His weapon was fascinating...she'd never even heard remotely of something that shot -electricity-, but he was threatening that man over there. She was reasonably sure that the metal from the tank...even if a different sort of metal than she'd seen before...would be difficult for electricity to get through. It would stop him from threatening anyone, without hurting him.

She concentrated for a moment, seeing in her mind what wasn't there...but then, suddenly, was. As before, there was a flicker before it appeared, as if reality itself were fighting her, or perhaps just slow to accommodate. Either way, it gave the soldier a brief window to make his escape...if he was fast enough.

(Encapsulating the other power armor guy on Travis. Same deal as before.)

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The EBS suits were tough. Lamia’s concrete shattered around the soldier’s form and sent him staggering a couple of feet. The man grunted as he was moved, but didn’t seem to be affected too badly. However, he couldn’t spare a glance for Lamia, occupied as he was with Gold.

Mary grinned as the soldier’s desperate attempt to flee his capture failed. The dome snapped into place over him.

Gold’s bullets slammed into the man’s EBS suit, staggering him further. The Kevlar of the EBS suit stopped the bullet but left painful bruising on the ribs under that suit.

Travis’s kinetic force hit the dome, shoving the metal object back several feet. There was a hollow ringing noise, like a clapper hitting the wall of a bell.

On the edge of the battlefield, near the pond, a ripple appeared in the air. The ripple darkened and turned black, becoming a menacing void. But it was what Sol had described to them: a black hole.

The EBS soldier fighting Gold threw another bomb, then whipped up his assault rifle and snapped off a controlled burst.

Resolution Rolls for Round Three

RR # 2 [attacked by Lamia] Toughness Save vs DC 19 5+14 = 19, save

RR #1 [attacked by Travis] Toughness Save vs DC 24 20+14 = 34

RR #1 [attacked by Travis] Strength Check vs DC 19 2+6 = 8, flies 500 meters

RR #2 [attacked by Gold] Toughness Save DC 25 9+14 = 23, Toughness -1

RR #1 [attacked by Mary] Dodge Save DC 20 16+2 = 18, fail

Rolls for Round Three

RR #2 [attacking Gold] Electrical Bombs (area)

Gold Dodge vs DC 18 – if he succeeds, DC on damage is 19; otherwise it’s DC 23

Extra Effort - ACTION! RR #2 [attacking Gold] Assault Rifle vs DC 25 7+4 = 11, miss


Lamia – 27

Mary – 20

Gold – 16

Travis – 13

Tyrone – 5

Sol – 4

Brawl – 4

RR – 4

NPC Status

RR #1 - -1 Toughness, Trapped in the dome

RR #2 - -1 Toughness, Fatigued next round

RR #3 – Trapped in the dome

Tank – gone

PC Required Rolls

Gold Dodge vs DC 18 – if he succeeds, DC on damage is 19; otherwise it’s DC 23

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...then run for the black hole...

Mary could only stare, astonished. She'd assumed it would be a hole in a wall or something. This was nothing like anything she'd ever seen! It was definitely THERE. She could see that it had volume, but that was all. As far as her other senses went, it wasn't there at all. Worse, NOTHING was there. Not even air. It was a patch of absolute nothingness.

But she'd been told to run for it, and Mary...when she couldn't think of anything better...did what she was told.

"It's the black hole," she said to Lamia distracted. "Run for it!" Then she ran!

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"What the fuck?" Faster than he could react a dome of some kind of metal had formed over the blip in the powered suit. Travis held back the power he'd been prepared to unleash and looked around. Off to the side a young woman was looking in his direction, if only briefly, before she started running. At first he thought it was fear that drove her, but then he saw the black hole in the air. "I see," Travis mused. He dropped low, picking up speed as he went. With a thought he tore a hunk of stone and asphalt from the ground, nearly ten feet across it was more than large enough to accommodate his fellow mutants. He swung past Gold first, slowing the disc long enough to allow the man to jump on if he wished, "Hey! Need a ride? Our escape route is here I think, time to get out of dodge."

Free action: looking around, maintaining shield

Move action: move 500 feet toward the black hole while passing gold and offering a lift

Standard Action: tearing a hunk of ground up for use as a transport disc.

HPs: 1, Conditions: -1 on damage checks

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Maybe I’ve lost my edge. Maybe I was never all that lethal in the first place. Either way, the man in the suit keeps on going. I see a big hunk of rock smash on him but he doesn’t go down. Instead he drops another grenade.

I’m on it this time, rolling back and flipping away, more than fast enough. But it makes no difference. The first time hurt. This time…

Every muscle goes into spasm, I scream and fall down flat. My world spins and hazes, I’m near to greying out. I stand, but the effort unbalances me and I take a half dozen steps backward.

Somewhere nearby someone says something. My ears are working fine I think, but my head… there’s nothing but pain up here. I try to settle down so I can fight back. Not so easy.

I just try to huddle up and defend. If I can get a break, maybe I can get my bearings and kill the bastard. I shouldn’t have let him pick the range. That was stupid. And it might get me killed, too.

WhiteRain.vc *rolls* 1d20: 18: 18

[WhiteRain.vc] 10:51 pm: That'd be a passed dodge check

[WhiteRain.vc] 10:52 pm: someone witness?

[envoy] 10:52 pm: yar, that be an 18 I see.

[WhiteRain.vc] 10:53 pm: and then toughness save

WhiteRain.vc *rolls* 1d20: 5: 5

[WhiteRain.vc] 10:53 pm: oh fuck

[envoy] 10:53 pm: is that bad?

[WhiteRain.vc] 10:53 pm: a total of 6 vs a DC of 19

[WhiteRain.vc] 10:54 pm: I think the amount of failure matters a lot

[WhiteRain.vc] 10:54 pm: how badly am I hurt?

[Long6] 10:54 pm: dazed I think

[WhiteRain.vc] 10:55 pm: Can anyone check?

[Jeremy] 10:55 pm: staggered, -1

[Jeremy] 10:55 pm: and dazed

Gold Staggered, -1 toughness and dazed

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Lamia spotted the unearthly patch of black; her slice-of-wall projectile hadn't done much to the human attacking the long-haired blond mutant. For nearly half a second she actually considered just running for freedom - it had been so long!

But that would make her just as bad as Amanda, a traitor to her own kind if even only by inaction.

She would never be that. Never.

She sprinted towards the other mutant scooping him up as the one Amanda had called Kinetic swooped by on the floating slab. Pain bit into her when she touched the long-haired mutant and she nearly dropped him; luckily she was able to hang on long enough to set him down on the slab. "Just don't hit the girl on accident. She's a little....young." There were all sorts of layers to that word - none of them derogatory, if few very complimentary. She glanced up at the sky where the sun-man was keeping Amanda frustrated and distracted, wondering if he would also take the escape route.

Somehow she didn't think he really needed it.

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Lamia dashed for the two men with blond or blond-like hair. Seeing the man with true-gold hair was curled up on the ground, she bent down and grabbed him-

He uncoiled like a snake, grabbing her arm and hand; with a vicious motion, the man twisted both hard in opposite directions. It hurt like hell, and Lamia bit back a cry. He must not have seen that she was a mutant…

Mary found herself just before the warp. She hesitated, then put her hand through. She felt a tingle, then warm sunlight on her skin. Taking a deep breath, Mary ducked through –

Into a flat plain that stretched for miles in front of her. Rich green grass and flowering plants grew in abundance, while the scraggily trees dotted the landscape. It was hot and mercilessly humid; soft clouds dimpled the sky overhead.

“Get behind me!” Mary looked to see an older man sitting behind a table, a truly large gun pointed in her direction. Behind him stood a young black man, while a black child of no more than ten was crouched next to the sitting man. Only he wasn’t sitting, Mary realized suddenly. He was in a wheelchair and the gun was braced on the table because he only had one hand to work it. “Hurry up!”

Back in North Dakota, Travis pulled up to Lamia and Gold with his flying disc, a ready smile and an offer of a ride. With a grimace, Lamia put the golden-haired man on the disc as she delivered her warning about the young woman.

Above them, Brawl and Sol continued their endless dance, brother against sister in a never-ending conflict. “Amanda, come on. We don’t have to do this.” David’s voice was gentle and pleading.

Amanda’s was harsh and hateful. “You’re right, we don’t. Just surrender.”

“They’ll kill me. Why do you cling to your hate?”

Brawl’s scream rang over the battlefield. “Because you deserve it!” Spinning, she attacked a target designed to hurt her brother; the icy breath she’d used before was hurtled at the black hole. David cursed and barely got his fire-shield up in time to deflect it.

Meanwhile, the Rapid Responder who had smiled at seeing Gold crumple now found himself with a target-rich environment. He considered slinking away – but that black hole meant that these incredibly dangerous individuals would be set loose on the world if he did nothing. With a prayer, he tossed another Electrical Bomb at the three mutants grouped together.

Resolution Rolls for Round Four

Gold [attacking Lamia] Killing Touch vs DC 11 16+7 = 23

Damage DC is 23

Lamia [attacked by Gold] Toughness save vs DC 23 8+8 = 16, fail by 7 (two degrees), -1 Toughness, Dazed

Rolls for Round Four

RR #2 [attacking Group] Electrical Bomb Burst Area Damage

Damage DC is 23


Lamia – 27

Mary – 20

Gold – 16

Travis – 13

Tyrone – 5

Sol – 4

Brawl – 4

RR – 4

NPC Status

RR #1 - -1 Toughness, Trapped in the dome

RR #2 - -1 Toughness, Fatigued next round

RR #3 – Trapped in the dome

Tank – gone

PC Required Rolls and Notes

Travis has to make a Dodge Save DC 18; if he succeeds, the Toughness Save is DC 19, otherwise its DC 23

Lamia has to make a Dodge Save DC 18; if he succeeds, the Toughness Save is DC 19, otherwise its DC 23

Gold has to make a Dodge Save DC 18; if he succeeds, the Toughness Save is DC 19, otherwise its DC 23

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Travis was a giant douche 90% of the time, but when it came to his own people that other 10% showed itself more often than he would be willing to admit. When Sol's sister focused to attack him and the others he reacted at the speed of thought, a shield of debris rising to intercept and diffuse the chilling wind. The blast was like an arctic wind and cut through the loose debris easily slicing over the three mutants like a million shards of ice. Travis escaped with little more than a shiver, his improvised shield had done that much at least. "That's not the kind of blow job I'm looking forward to getting a second time," he quipped acerbically as he moved himself and his passengers through the event horizon of the black hole, and hopefully to safety.

Spending a HP for instant counter. Raising a shield between us and Brawl to block and diffuse her attack.

[jameson] 1:50 pm: Instant Counter jameson *rolls* 1d20: 6+9: 15

[jameson] 1:50 pm: eeesh

[jameson] 1:52 pm: and I might as well roll for Brawl (+8)

jameson *rolls* 1d20: 11+8: 19

[jameson] 1:52 pm: fuck

Counter failed. Sorry guys, I tried.

[jameson] 1:54 pm: Dodge +8

jameson *rolls* 1d20: 16+8: 24

[jameson] 1:54 pm: Toughness +9

jameson *rolls* 1d20: 19+9: 28

Move Action: moving through the black hole

Std Action: Moving the disc with Gold & Lamia through the black hole

HP: 0 • Condition: injured (x1)

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Mary was new to this sort of thing, but she wasn't stupid. The man was ready to use a weapon against anyone who went through that thing unless they were supposed to. He could have used it on her.

"Th...there's more people coming," she blurted, dodging quickly sideways and feeling a stab of relief when the cavernous barrel didn't track with her. "Don't use that on them? Please?"

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I try to clear my head, but my muscles feel tight as twisted rope, my nose is full of the scent of burnt hair. My head spins and I can’t make sense of anything. I keep greying in and out.

Someone tries to grab me and I lash out, but it doesn’t make much difference. I vaguely feel myself hauled into the air and put down. The ground feels very far away.

Then there’s more pain… and nothing.

WhiteRain.vc *rolls* 1d20: 4: 4

[Malachite] 2:53 am: Later, WR.

[WhiteRain.vc] 2:53 am: le sigh

[Jeremy] 2:53 am: shite

[WhiteRain.vc] 2:53 am: then toughness

WhiteRain.vc *rolls* 1d20: 7: 7

[Jeremy] 2:53 am: just go.... we'll pretend you didn't roll

[WhiteRain.vc] 2:53 am: That's a fail by 14

[WhiteRain.vc] 2:54 am: rolls are done

[WhiteRain.vc] 2:54 am: what happens now?

[Jeremy] 2:54 am: ouch... staggered and -1

Since Gold failed his last save by 14 as well, he is now KOed

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Lamia cradled her arm tenderly, only to be thrown roughly against the floating concrete as sizzling pain grabbed her from one the lightening balls that the strange soldiers used exploded near them. The gold-haired mutant that had broken her arm crumpled; she did her best to tug him to the center of the moving slab. They only had to make it a little farther....assuming that it really was new allies on the other side. She stayed alert and tense, fighting through the pain and knowing that she'd never stop fight now. Never again.

The black slipped over the asphalt, her chance companions, and eventually over her own skin. She tensed at the sight of the large weapon pointed at her on the other side; the tension became tangled with wary confusion as she took in the man holding it. It took a moment for her to pick out the features that didn't change as other people aged. "John?" she asked, her tone and expression unreadable. "John of Howsted?"

[Malachite] 2:27 pm: Lamia's Rolls: [Malachite] 2:27 pm: Dodge - Malachite *rolls* 1d20: 2+8: 10 [Malachite] 2:27 pm: Toughness - Malachite *rolls* 1d20: 10+8: 18 [Jeremy] 2:29 pm: witnesses -2 & Dazed

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