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Mutants & Masterminds: The Magisterium - [Magisterium] Blood from Stone

Dawn OOC

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Transcript from Interview with Mirage

RL: I see. Are there any suggestions for changes in policies that would help you improve your abilities?

M: My suggestions would hardly have any impact, now would they? I have a question for you though, I imagine we're being recorded, yes?

RL: The zoo administration has no recording s going. Why are you asking that?

M: Suspicions of a sort... and in answer to your question, fair treatment of mutant's would improve my motivation at least.

RL: Fair treatment of all mutants, or just yourself?

M: All mutants.

RL: You just want them to change the system, huh? Aren't you a dreamer?

M: Oh, I don't expect it to happen, but you asked what I really wanted... that's what this is really about isn't it? My goals and desires, and how they can intersect with yours. Honestly, I doubt the system is going to change without some sort of revolution of sorts.

RL: What sort of revolution?

M: "Either something from within, which honestly, testing the emotional basis of those in power. They are mostly complacent and content with things as they are... or something imposed from without, which would shatter the present system. So an internal revolution is unlikely, it would have to be something imposed from the outside... or something required by mutants themselves... though that doesn't seem all that likely, Ketone seems to aid the status quo. Of course, I could be wrong about that.. am I wrong, sister?

Transcript from Interview with Noctis

RL: Quit your damned games. Just tell me what I want to know and I'll leave you alone.

N: Doctor, I thought I just did.

RL: No, you talked about the humans. You failed to talk about yourself.

N: For the whole session?

RL: Answer me, because it will go very badly for you if I don't get an answer to my question. If I get one more question posed to me, then I walk. And you do not want me to leave with the opinion I have of you right now.

N: Repeat the question.

RL: If you could bend another mutant to your will for no other reason than to benefit you, would you do it?

N: No.

RL: Very well. Thank you for your ... time.

N: My pleasure. And just one more thing... who says puppeteering another mutant would benefit me? You can think on that.

RL: Anyone can be used.

N: Can, yes. Would, debatable. Do remember to visit Captain Mitchell.

Transcript from Interview with The Archive

TA: "I have... 'questioned' some of the director's perceived enemies, but for the most part, he has held me captive. Starved me of my own needs, then used those needs to service his desires. I – [pause] I wish to visit my father's grave. Vortennen denied me the right of attending his funeral.

RL: "As was his legal right, if not the moral one. Do you chafe at your position here?

TA: Should I not? I assure you, there are far more now, than before. Vortennen works against us. My father worked -with- us, as well as he could. I understand how most think of us. And I understand -fully- what Vortennen thinks of us, of me. Should I tell you?

RL: You can tell me whatever you want to tell me.

TA: What if I want tell you how much I want to be free so I can plant my lips between your legs and make you squeal? About all the explicit delights I can share with you? How badly I want to be fucked? Marko-bloody-Vortennen is a mutant too, you know. I can't prove it and I don't know how he's gotten away with it, but I can only get the memories he wants me to see. He doesn't just hate us. He wants us to all die, in pain and denigration. I think he wants to be the only one. The only mutant.

May 5, 2012, 6:45 p.m. SAST

Spicenkop Research Facility, South Africa

The Spicenkop Research Facility was normally a rather quiet place; located in northwest South Africa, it sits in the side of a mountain. Hollowed out of the stone itself, the facility normally didn’t host mutants at all. Instead, their scientists typically worked on research, both mechanical and scientific, derived from mutants. As such, the Facility didn’t normally host EBS-geared RRs, or any of the R-94 Supertanks. But for the last twenty-four hours, the place had featured both. The normal soldiers stared at the RRs in their exo-suits, trying to not feel like they were on the set of a science-fiction movie. They’d all heard about the Trains, and what they looked like when fully loaded, but it was still a sight worth staring at. It was also a constant reminder that they had strange mutants inside the facility – foreign and home-town guests, so to speak.

Spicenkop has two areas; the first is the garage where the mechanical R&D was done. There are several offices and workshops and labs in this area, and grants the entire facility has a slight smell of grease. Deeper in the mountain is the chemical lab, which has been getting a lot more attention these days. The scientists think they have found something to help them in the on-going war for mutant control.

The evening’s focus is on this lab. “Seven o’clock on a Saturday evening. Fuckers,” one of the guest soldiers muttered, glancing at his watch. “How long will this take?” The man had been excited to learn he was going on a mission to South Africa; he’d never been there, and he wanted to see exotic Africa – and exotic African women. Then he’d learned that he was in the middle of nowhere in the northwest part of the country, hours from a large city. Worse, there were no donne nere, here; the South African government would never trust their black population in a position of power. He had seen a pride of lions on his way in, so that was something, but they hadn’t stopped and he hadn’t gotten a picture. This was a terrible mission.

The Italian soldier was doing his best to ignore the three mutants in the room, each fitted with an AMP collar and restrained to examination chairs. They all seemed rather calm and complacent; he knew that their Noctis was cooperative. Too cooperative, given some of the stories he’d heard about the mutant being open to being fucked for favors. He’d also been told that even when forced into sex that the mutant had seemed smug about it. The soldier mentally shook his head. That was just all messed up.

The French were more observant. Mirage was a little more concerning to them. She was mostly cooperative, but if she were to become less so in this setting, they’d have a hell of a time restraining her. There was always the collar, but that was a measure of final recourse. Many of them even liked her; she was largely non-offensive. But none of them could trust her, not completely. Her green hair was a constant reminder of why trust was impossible.

The South Africans were much more casual about their charge. The beautiful Rebekka was dragged into the room, shivering from the final throes of the feeding they’d just given her. When she was dropped roughly into the chair, she moaned in delight; her expression, as they secured her, said that the experience wasn’t unpleasant. The Italians and Germans watched uneasily, filled with a mixture of disgust and envy as the South African men took their time lashing her down, none too careful where they put their hands.

Finally they stepped back and the scientists moved in, preparing IVs and saline bags. A line was attached to the saline drip, which led to a small remote designed to slowly administer an unknown drug. That done, the scientist heading the experiment said, “We need to clear the room, please. We don’t know what reactions the chemicals will induce.” That wasn’t comforting at all to the restrained mutants.

“It will not kill them, will it?” the Capitaine in charge of the French contingent asked. Mirage was France’s best mutant; he was loathe to allow her to be destroyed at DEHA whim.

“No, kytone doesn’t kill, and neither should dyxelkytone,” the lead researcher assured him. “Clearing the room is merely a precaution.” Nervously, the soldiers withdrew, casting final looks over their shoulders at the mutants.

A low rumble shifted through the complex; screams rang through the corridors from the mechanical R&D area. “What is happening?” one of the Italians asked, moving automatically to cover the door to the room the mutants were in, just in case.

“I… I don’t know!” one of the scientists babbled nervously, his eyes wide.

“God help us.” The whisper was strangely loud in the room. The woman who’d spoken was staring at the screens that monitored the room; wish a shaking finger, she pointed at the fourth mutant who was now in the room.


The three mutants were only alone a few seconds when the tiled floor writhed and buckled. The stone underneath bubbled upward, stretching over six feet tall before parting to reveal a man in blue jeans and a collared shirt, open over a gray t-shirt. He had pale brown hair, gray eyes and the kind of face you would buy a used car from. “I’m here to getcha y’all out,” he announced to the three in American English. “Anyone not wanna leave?”

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Mirage wasn't happy about this particular venture anymore then the normal humans with her were, she hated the thought of adding anything further to the human's tools of mutant control, but refusing to cooperate wasn't an option, she'd learned that a long time ago. Perhaps, if she was different, if people's emotions, their lack of trust and the lies they told were not so.. blatant to her senses, she might be more agreeable to cooperating, but fear and distrust were not the sort of emotions that created a sense of community. She understood the source of that fear, of course, and she hated it, the prejudice and distrust made her sad in many cases, and angry when she saw the abuses that came with it.

The other two mutants with her felt, different in various ways, she could feel the emotions from both of them, the mix of emotions from one side of her, to the one on the other side was disconcerting to say the least.

So, when her fellow mutant came though the floor and spoke his offer, she could hear the truth in his words, so she inclined her head to one side, her words entirely in her native language, betraying the internal excitement at the idea of being truly free. "Si vous le pourvez, laissez-nous le voir." Then she shook her head slightly, to clear it. "Excusez-Moi.." She then repeated her words in english. "If you can, let us see you do it." She might have been a bit more enthusiastic, but she was also wary, she had had hopes crushed too often in the past.

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Licking the last traces of salty residue from her lips, Rebekka basked in the afterglow, the aches and pains of rough hands fading, idly riffling through the three new lives lodged within her mind, along with the thousands of others. She instinctively arched against the strong hands binding her against the chair and under heavy-lidded eyes, noted the disgust, envy, and autonomic desire in the Italian and German contingents.

She didn't have much experience with other mutants - relative to the amount of experience, her own and from others, she had in other areas. She wondered what the other two thought of her, and whether she cared.

At another time, Rebekka might have been ashamed, but she had been so desperate to be free of the tiny, windowless cell beneath the luxurious estate that had been her home and prison for fifty years, and satiated after a three-day starving, she didn't care in the least. To be free of Marko Vortennen, for any length of time, she would willingly debase herself far more than just acceding to a test of a new variant of Kytone. The AMP collar, tight around her slender throat and so unaccustomed to was another willing indignity she would suffer.

... She had known Jakob Van Wyl for ten years - and his father before him, for that matter - a regular guard at her private zoo. A good family man, fair but firm with his charges, with twin sons and a loving, attractive wife, Jakob struggled with his unnatural attraction to girls on the cusp of womanhood. She was able to ease his tension, to fulfill his desires in a way he could accept; a girl-woman who was old enough to be his mother and more; experienced beyond belief, yet could fake youthful innocence. He had been fierce in his displeasure when she reminisced about his sons' recent rugby game, as familiar with them as he was...

... Maarten Tregaldt was a brute of a man, despising mutant women as much as he lusted after them. She witnessed every woman he had raped - including herself - endured every wound he had endured while running down escaped mutants. She had whimpered in delightful, sympathetic pain as she watched a striking, blond mutant woman - learning all Maarten knew of the woman - kill his father before his eyes when he was four, with a single blow of her slender hand, scarring him for life...

... The young man, so young, newly recruited into the DRM. Ruud Dekker, besotted with the tales in American comic books, was thrilled upon learning the truth of the DRM. Mutants! For real! Discovering that he was yet a virgin - to his nearly terminal embarrassment - he fellow guards decided his first time should be by feeding The Archive. One negligent glance from the impossibly sensual woman had undone him, to the roaring laughter of the other guards. Yet Rebekka, more beautiful than any woman he could imagine, real or otherwise, hadn't looked at him with mocking pity or cruel condescension. She coaxed him back to life with hands and lips and tongue, her expression commiserating and hungry, so hungry, so disturbingly and enticingly hungry as she made a man of him...

Rebekka murmured wantonly as she felt the rumble vibrate through her, but her turquoise eyes snapped open at the sight of the man stepping free of the fountaining stone. She peeked through the doors in her mind, reading various reports, accounts, and descriptions of other mutants. Few had the facility with stone and earth this one displayed. Two of them were American - Tectonic - a known Operative of the US Government, and Quake, once incarcerated by the AMCD, but freed during the jailbreak of another mutant.

She pondered his question through the dimming haze of her pleasure, her thoughts curiously languid. To be free... For fifty years, the illusion of freedom had been enough. But since Marko, it no longer was. Anything to let her be free of him, she would grasp at. She didn't doubt their 'rescuer' had plans for them as well, would use them, but it was a chance, and one that could lead to her own vengeance.

Rebekka glanced sadly at the camera in a high corner of the room - she loved her country, the stunning Jacaranda trees lining the boulevards of Pretoria, but after today, if she survived, she would most likely be an enemy of the state - then sat up straight in her chair, facing the man directly, the full force of her intoxicating presence washing over him.

The Archive appeared to be no more than fifteen or sixteen, short and curvaceous, astonishingly attractive, incredibly so, with deep auburn hair tumbling wildly over her shoulders. Despite her apparent youth, there was far too much experience in those huge, intensely turquoise eyes and she exuded an innate sensuality that was uncanny for any woman of any age.

"I reckon I'd like ta take a gander outta these here walls, myself, honey," she said, her voice a high, sweet, velvety caress and flavoured with the deep South. She tossed her head, shaking her hair over her shoulders and emphasizing the collar around her neck. "If'n ya can do sumthin' about this here collar, that'd be right kind uv ya."

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It was another long day, another piece of his existence. Noctis, or Jeremy, or whatever you called him- simply waited for them to get on with it. It wasn't as if he expected any serious harm from this- as the bio-chemical producer that he was, his body resisted chemicals, even Kytone, with remarkable ease. As for his peers though? Regarding other mutants as his peers only might have seemed absurd not that long ago, in terms of his life.

What power revelations and experience can wrought on one's mind, and the truths shown. The green-haired mutant to his direct left drew some observation, but much less so than the blond super-bombshell and apparent toy of the local human jackboots. For a moment, her languid and sheer pleasure would have drawn contempt, but Jeremy remonstrated to himself that without context, the same could be assumed of him. After all, he too knew of the stories about himself passed around the zoo.

There was a truth in them that the blind idiots had not guessed at the depth of. And... as his eyes slanted over The Archive, a niggling feeling of recognition somewhere dug towards his thoughts. After a moment of analysis, he understood. One after all, could not be a drug factory and not be aware of the signs of a junkie who'd gotten a fix.

It sent a note of hidden anger up Jeremy's mind. Take this girl by the strings and puppet her as a pet, eh? More to add to the list of these people's sins. Then the floor ruptured, and as the new mutant- a free-range mutant, no doubt- appeared like a surprise angel, potentially saving Noctis from the continued months of his planning.

"What they said." He added for his say, smiling broadly in perfectly good native American English. More of a suburban touch in his voice, at that. Shouting drew his attention to the other side- the goons with guns were finally recognizing the feed from their eyes and about to move. Well, we can't have that.

The truth about Noctis' openness to sex and amusement even during "rape" was a very obvious, simple one, that the guards at Il Impianto who indulged in using him simply did not get, to their peril. One, he was a bio-chemical producer of drugs, poisons, of various and easily prodigious potency. Two, sex was invariably an act with lots of body contact, intimate touch, and transference of fluids.

Would it be any surprise that Noctis had effectively dosed them all with a particularly nasty cocktail of drugs that didn't even have names? With an intense thought, he triggered the nearby doses of chemicals. Naturally there would be only a minority of the Italians affected, but...

The Italian covering the door, about to kick the door open and open fire on the intruder, stopped- and before the other soldiers could even speak a word, turned and opened fire on as many soldiers and scientists as the bullets could hit- holding down the trigger tightly. Another one dove to a corner and sprayed death as well. Two Beretta ARX 160 assault rifles plus seven hundred rounds per minute rate of fire and the thirty round STANAG magazines- a pinch of surprise, makes instant carnage.

"There." Jeremy said quietly, looking at Quake expectantly.

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“Great, more time to deal with the collars,” the man muttered, moving to Mirage’s chair and loosening both of her hands. Leaving her to get her feet, he moved to Rebekka. “I’m Matt, by th' way. Here’s the plan, I have a cyro-spray that’s going to freeze the receptors on the collars, give y’all a sixty-second delay. I’m gonna freeze them, then cut them, and then you’re gonna have to toss them in the hole I’m gonna make.” As he started to release Noctis, he added, “Please don’t miss the hole. Gonna ruin all our days.”

He gave them a few seconds to get free and release themselves from the IV, assisting where needed. “I’ll take us through the wall to the outside. Once we’re outta here, I’ll signal for the evac, and all we hafta do is survive about half-a-minute. When you see the black hole, run like hell for it. Don’t worry about each other – that’s my job, ta getcha all there safe. Questions? And if not, then everyone ready to lose those collars?”

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Rebekka blanched at the sight of the men going crazy, turning on their own, flinching and turning away from the sound of gunfire. All the memories of such she possessed availed her little when the like was happening directly in front of her.

"Matt," Rebekka murmured sultrily, the name identifying him from the memories of the files she had read. She accepted his hand and let him help her easily to her feet. She stepped close, giving him a grateful hug, and craned her head up to catch his eyes despite the foot difference in their heights. "Ah'm Rebekka."

Listening to Matt's instructions as she removed the IV, sighing at the sharp sting as it pulled free, her eye flicked from side to side as she searched the vault of her mind, searching all the memories, all the lives, that were now hers. Flowing down the halls, empty save for few personal items that represented her own memories and life, she stopped and opened the door that was Thorsten Voss. Not a mark or a client, but simply a man she had met in a bar in East Germany in 1985 while there on other business, he was a champion decathlete (and a vigorously passionate lover).

His memories were hers, but it took more to make a lifetime of training hers. She concentrated, overlaying a construct of his mind over her own, melding those years of dedicated training into bone and flesh. She felt it lock in place and took a deep breath, shifting her wait from one foot to the other with a relaxed, athletic grace. She didn't have the muscular build of an athlete, but she had dedicated training, knowledge of pacing and proper breathing, the muscle memory for accurate throwing techniques from years of practicing the discus, javelin, and shot-put.

A long moment after Matt asked if they had any questions left, Rebekka nodded. "Ja, now Ah'm ready," she affirmed, her tone a tad lower, the Southern accent tinged with a Germanic edge, which quickly faded. "There's another thang that may be a complication." She spun around and lifted the hem of her gown, unconcernedly revealing her bare behind and her lower back, glancing at Matt over her shoulder as she pointed at a specific spot. Thank you Dr. Janzen for your professional ethics not getting in the way of sleeping with the beautiful mutant girl. "There's a trackin' chip imbedded by my L4 vertebra."

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"Jeremy." The young mutant introduced himself, not flinching or ruffled at his handiwork. Finally, finally he could leave and bring a certain wrath down on these governments. And the DeDees. Can't forget the DeDees. He stretched quickly and lightly with the arms. He might have not much ability to resist harm if he got hit, but he wouldn't be dying. When the opportunity was so close- dying would be completely unacceptable. The IV went free with a pinch.

"Hmm." Was his comment when Rebekka pointed out her delightful- chip-implanted- rear end. "I'm set for collar removal."

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Excitement so strong she could almost taste it, fear from those on the other side of the wall, and for a moment she had a regret, not all of them deserved the treatment they were getting from Noctis chemical controls... oh she had a no a single regret for those under his control, from the taste of emotions all around, they were getting what they deserved, it was just one or two of her countrymen who treated her decently that had a moments regret from her, enough that even as she got up and moved to the side of the mutant rescuing them, she reached out with her own abilities to control others and did what she could to give them a chance, a touch of emotional control just for a instant to make someone's shot good wrong, a minor touch or two.. to give them a chance to live, without risking this particular escape. Of course, a few of them she didn't care worth a damn about, even the majority of them, she was courteous to all of them, but she knew the truth about them, who didn't like what they were called to do, the one's who didn't care, and the ones who took a measure of glee in the power it gave them..

"Let's do something about their ability to watch us." She spoke openly as she held out her hand, and a wall appeared between the window and door looking into the room as she called upon her powers of illusion a moment later. "the longer we talk about it, the less time we have, let's do this."

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“Ya ken put that dress down.” The man’s eyes had dropped when she’d drawn his attention to her ass, only to snap up so fast it looked painful. “We have a plan for those too, so just relax. We are gonna have to move fast. Speakin’ of-”

Matt removed a cylinder and piece of quartz from his shirt’s breast pocket and stepped behind Noctis. He paused and a hole appeared in the floor, a dark circle that looked to go forever. “Ready?” he asked the poisoner.

“Yes,” Noctis said, putting his hands on his collar.

There was a hiss and a puff of very cold air on his neck; then Matt cut the collar in a fast movement. “Go!” he said and Noctis dropped it in the hole. The rock sealed over and Matt moved on to Rebekka. She was still pouting but he didn’t hesitate to step behind her and open a hole in the floor. “Ready?”

“Ya,” Rebekka said with a drawl, leaning back into him just a bit. Matt stepped back and sprayed the cyro-mist on the collar, freezing the components. A quick flick of his wrist freed the collar and the debutante dropped the collar into the hole with a little whoop of joy.

Matt moved behind Mirage next, covering the metal bits on the collar with the white mist at her terse ‘Ready’. The quartz cut the woven collar, and Mirage dropped it in the hole. “Welcome to freedom,” Matt told them with a little grin. “Are y’all ready for a fight?”

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Despite the risks entailed by what Matt meant, Jeremy understood it was that or potential death or loss of freedom. It showed in his razor-thin grin. "I'm ready as I can be." He brushed off the clothing he was wearing idly, despite the fact it would get dirty with the blood of the DeDes and guards trying to keep them penned up soon. And his own, but he had healing substances that could certainly patch up many wounds.

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"Freedom..." she sighed, slender fingers caressing her bare throat. Rebekka's delight at having the AMP collar removed with freedom but a few steps away was tempered by what was still entailed to gain that freedom. But she could taste it now and she wanted it. Hesitantly, she edged closer to one of the fallen guards - she didn't focus on the body enough to determine which contingent he had belonged to - and after a pause and a depth breath, she bent over and pulled a submachine gun from a limp hand.

Despite her obvious discomfort and the ill at ease in her big, blue eyes, Rebekka's hands glided over the firearm with sure and professional familiarity, checking the ammunition, then chambering a round, following the memories from dozens, hundreds, of men. She had known many soldiers and guards, expert marksmen and hunters, even an elite gunsmith. She had never held such a firearm before - she had lifetimes of handling different models since its introduction in 1966. Heckler & Koch MP5A3, with retractable stock, 30 round magazine, effective range: 200 meters...

She stood up and turned back to the others a different woman - a cool, svelte beauty with turquoise eyes, pale blonde hair, and golden skin. She was taller than average, in her mid-twenties, different from the voluptuous, precocious nymphet of a moment ago, and yet every bit as sensual and striking. Her smile was cold as she held the MP5 to her shoulder, but her free hand held the thin dress clinging to her lithe figure in a white-knuckled grip.

"Right. I'm ready," Rebekka said, her accent changing again, to something vaguely comparable to a South England accent with Germanic and Dutch undertones, the words quick and clipped, her voice a smokey alto. "Though I would prefer to run, I will do what I must, ya?"

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Mirage nodded nervously and Matt squared his shoulders. “Let’s go then. It’ll get rough fast. I’m gonna draw their fire. Remember, keep yer head down and watch for the black hole. When ya see it, sprint like hell for it. I’ll be right behind y’all – no one worry about me. I’m here to get you out.” He gave them a smile; it wasn’t a cocky grin but it was reassuring. “Keep smart and we’ll all be enjoyin’ a cold beer soon.”

With that reassuring promise, Matt turned to the wall and his expression became one of fixed concentration. After a second, the finishing over the wall bowed outward and splintered as the rock behind it thrust through it. Then the wall curled back, to reveal an office. The room was deserted and Matt didn’t waste time hurrying through. The next wall was already crumbling and he continued without pausing. The next office had someone in it, a man in a South African uniform who tried to pull a gun. A wave of rock swept up from the floor and snagged him. The man found himself pinned to the wall; a fist of stone closed over his gun hand, followed by a muffled crack. The man screamed in pain as his hand was crushed and Matt left him there, pinned to the wall.

The hole in the next wall turned into a tunnel. As Mirage, the last in line stepped into the tunnel, it closed behind her. Darkness enclosed them briefly, only be expelled by the tunnel opening ahead of them again. Matt drew out a cell phone and dialed a number, then tossed it to Mirage. "Keep that on and the line open," he ordered. Then Matt took two steps and the earth rose under his feet. He braced himself as the ground itself shoved him forward. He was as good as his word; he shot out into the middle of the open area, drawing most eyes to him. The roar of gunfire started almost immediately.

In your next post, please tell me what you’re doing. A cliff face stretches left and right; Matt’s about 100 yards away and most of the attention is on him. There are soldiers who will be approaching you guys. I need first action and your Initiative rolls, please.

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Initiative: Jeremy *rolls* 1d20: 11+2=13
Witnessed by Jameson

Intended Action: Jeremy, knowing soldiers would be firing on him from a further distance than he could expect to send chemicals and poisons on them, began to increase into a full run, dodging and jinking to avoid getting shot.

(Defend Action and Move)
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As Matt surged forward on a wave of earth and rock, Rebekka broke away at a run, angling away from him and the cliff, seeking to avoid cross-fire and bouncing ricochets. Her steps swift and sure with athletic prowess, the submachine held steady at her side, though not aimed at anyone, the impossibly enticing woman felt a rising flutter beneath her chest. Despite her anxious excitement, she kept her expression cool, cold, dangerous, her turquoise eyes hard and luscious smile steely, promising that she would not be held captive again.

Freedom... It was an odd thought. In fifty years as South Africa's primary and preeminent intelligence resource, Rebekka had traveled abroad many times, operating in near-autonomy in many cases, at least for the limited capacity of becoming intimate with a target. But always, there was the sure knowledge that she would have to return to her zoo, luxurious as it was. That if she ran, she would be found, and punished with an isolation, an enforced chastity, that could prove deadly.

And now, with each step she could, she was leaving it behind, to taste a hint of true freedom, to chose the direction of her life for herself, for good or ill. Her eyes glistened with tears of fear and excitement as she plunged into the unknown, so rare to her with thousands of lifetimes dwelling within her mind. A senior citizen in age, yet hardly more than an adolescent in emotional maturity, this chance led to growth of her own.

Staying Free!

Initiative: 1d20+4 = 8

Free Action: Using Athletics to run faster (DC 15, +1 Speed Rank; p.65)

Running (Athletics): 1d20+8 = 21 Success!

Move Action: Moving away at an angle from both the cliff-face and Matt.

Standard Action: Defend (p.194-195)

So Many Lives Within: +8 Athletics, +8 Ranged Combat: Guns, +2 Dodge (10pp)

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"I will be with you, but not visible." She said to the other too as she caught the phone she was handed, then nodded, as she made up her mind what to do, and she drew her powers of illusion around herself to make herself undetectable, invisible to all senses, a method she thought would help her best to get to freedom then running as fast as she could, not that she wasn't going to run with the others, but she would not be a visible target, though if someone had a detector on the phone single it would continue to be detected.

Initiative: Krul *rolls* 1d20: 3+2: 5

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As Matt went to meet the bulk of the troops with an army of stone, the other three broke into a run to more or less put themselves away from the fighting. Unfortunately, their path took them right into line of sight of four Rapid Responders. Mirage was unseen, of course, but her companions were less lucky. Two of them spat blasts of electricity at Jeremy, while a third fired at Rebekka. These hardened soldiers were unmoved by the fact that they were shooting at an unarmed man and a woman.

The fourth one lobbed an electrical bomb at them, landing it near Rebekka. The deceptively small bomb went off in a burst of electrical energy that blasted a circle sixty feet across.


Rapid Responders – 18

Jeremy – 13

Rebekka – 8

Matt – 7

Mirage – 5

Rolls for first round

RR #1 [attack on Jer] using Electrical Cannon: 5+6 = 11 vs 24 (active defense)

RR #2 [attack on Rebekka] using Electrical Cannon: 18+6 = 24 vs 25 (active defense)

RR #3 [attack on Jer, as Mirage is invisible ;) ] using Electrical Cannon: 9+6 = 15 vs 21 (active defense)

RR#4 [area focused on Rebekka, everyone within thirty feet] using Electrical Bombs – Damage DC for all PCs is 23.

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The blasts sizzled up dirt, but the RR troopers were unable to get a bead on the man. Jeremy grinned at their failure- but karma smacked into him with the blazing jolt of the electric bomb. The scorch marks were painful, but more indicative of how much worse it could have gone. Too close, too close damnit! But they were too far away to strike with any of his acids or cocktails.

Clutching his side, Jeremy continued to run, hoping to see if he could keep from getting too harmed by the DeeDees before closing into striking range. If not, well, he could heal himself, given the chance.

Dodge roll

Jeremy *rolls* 1d20: 3+4: 7


Toughness roll

Jeremy *rolls* 1d20: 5+4: 9

Big fail.

ok, I'm using my HP for that second roll, the Toughness

Jeremy *rolls* 1d20: 5+4: 9 + 10 = 19.

Ok, failed by 4, so just a -1 to Jeremy so far.

Ok. So Jeremy is still moving, and Defending.

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Memories of facing and wearing Rapid Response ESB Suits, along with experiences of war and combat battled with a nature that was innately sensual and compliant, as Rebekka zagged to the side, a beam of crackling, blue-white lightning flashed by her shoulder. She gasped as the exquisite pain of the Electrical Bomb made her spasm.

With the muscle memory she had called upon, she braced the MP5 against her shoulder and fired off a precise burst, solidly hitting the center of mass, instead of taking the evasive action she had intended. Still, she kept running, angling again, heading for the end of the line of RRs ahead of them, so that continual fire would endanger their own compatriots unless they changed positions.

Her heart strained below her chest, fear making pound with a staccato beat. Despite what she had endured, she had never before considered her life at risk - they abused her, used her, but there would always be those who wanted her alive, for the things in her head or for what she could do in bed. But at the moment, even if the armaments were not instantly lethal, it felt as if they were.

Hurry Matt, or whomever your allies are, get us out of here!


Dodge roll for the Area Attack (DC 18): 1d20+8 = 11 Fail

Toughness Save for Area Attack (DC 23): 1d20+6 = 8 Really Fail

Hero Point reroll (DC 23): 1d20+6 = 12 = 22; Fail by 1 (-1 to future Toughness Saves)

Free Action: Athletics Roll to increase running speed.

Athletics Roll to increase Speed (DC 15): 1d20+8 = 13 Fail

Move Action: move 30 feet towards and at an angle to the RRs.

Standard Action: Firing at the one that threw the Electrical Bomb with the MP5 she had picked up (counting as a Submachine Gun; Core p.167)

Firing Submachine Gun: 1d20+9 = 15 Hit (Resist: Toughness DC 19)

HP: 0 | Toughness Penalty: -1 | Status Effects: None

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These folks were anything but innocent, they were attacking her fellow mutants, even though neither Rebekka or Jeremy had done anything to them, and that was more then enough to give Sorora a reason to act against them. Dropping the cloaking effect, so that she was suddenly visible again, she tapped her power of illusion and it seemed that Matt suddenly rose from the earth in their midst and surrounded the attackers with an appearance of walls of stone rising from the earth around them, leaving them trapped.

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The blast of energy splashed out over all the mutants. It didn’t stop them and the Rapid Responders continued to try to stop them. Jeremy ran, keeping his head low and trying not to get shot. Rebekka went for a more straightforward attempt; she fired at the suited soldiers, trying to put holes in them. Her aim was true and the bullets thudded into the thick armor the soldier wore, but didn’t stop him.

Across the battlefield, Matt stole a quick glance at them. So far everyone was up and on their feet. He was standing in the middle of a battlefield made of jagged spears of stone and torn ground. One of the tanks lay on its top, its treads spinning uselessly. Nervously, he kept an eye on the sky, waiting for Brawl to show up; she probably wouldn’t, but his one encounter with her had taught him wariness when it came to Sol’s sister. Instead, he continued to face soldiers who were peppering him with bullets.

They were splitting up a little. Jeremy was moving on ahead toward shelter, while Rebekka had stopped and was firing. Mirage had stopped, too, but she didn’t seem to do anything. Instead, there appeared to be two Matts on the battlefield, and one of them sealed the four RR in a dome of stone.

Final Round 1 Rolls:

RR #4 [attacked by Rebekka] Toughness save vs DC 19: 27, Success.

Mirage [attacked by Electrical Bomb] Dodge save vs DC 18 16+2 = 18 Saves

Mirage [Area Attack (electrical)] Toughness save vs DC 19 20+0 = 20 Saves

Krul, you owe Someone somewhere a huge thank you.

RR #1 [attacked by Illusions] Insight Roll vs DC 20 19+2 = 21 – Save

RR #2 [attacked by Illusions] Insight Roll vs DC 20 2+2 = 4 – Fail, by a lot

RR #3 [attacked by Illusions] Insight Roll vs DC 20 20+2 = 22 – Save

RR #4 [attacked by Illusions] Insight Roll vs DC 20 19+2 = 21 – Save

[Round Two]

Three of the Rapid Responders moved through the dome, having seen through the illusion. They knew that Mirage was an illusionist and that Quake was behind them. Two of the soldiers, seeing that their cannons weren’t that effective, ignited their jump boots and closed the distance with the fleeing mutants. The one jumping at Jeremy hit him slammed him with a fist wreathed in lightning. The one coming at Mirage opted to wrap an arm around her and pin her arms to her body. The third one opened fire at Rebekka, spitting a blast of sizzling power at her that ringed her body in delicious pain.

Round Two actions

RR #1 [attacking Jer] Leaping Charge with Electrical Punch vs DC 20 18+11-2 = 27, Hit

Damage DC is 23 (electrical damage)

RR #2 [attacking the illusion]

RR #3 [attacking Rebecca] Electrical Cannon vs DC 16 14+6 = 20

Damage DC is 23 (electrical damage)

RR #4 [attacking Mirage] Leaping Charge with Grapple vs DC 10 6+8-2 = 12, Hit

Mirage’s roll vs the Grab 1+2 = 3, failed by 2 degrees, Mirage is Bound (defenseless, immobile and impaired)

PC Required Rolls

Jer: Toughness save vs DC 23

Rebekka: Toughness save vs DC 23

Mirage: Athletics or Sleight of Hand vs DC 16

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Jeremy started to dart to the side, but the RR Trooper's electrical right hook grazed into his side, making him cry out in pain before Jeremy rolled up with desperation's adrenaline. The RR trooper paused, taking up an more close combat preparatory stance, as Jeremy rose, fixing the suit-augmented human with a dangerous cross glare. Internally, the mutant triggered the formation of quick acting salves and clotting accelerates to repair the injuries he'd received.

It stunned the RR enforcer when he realized the mutant's wounds were rapidly vanishing as if never dealt out to him. Jeremy smiled, before throwing out an open-handing arm to latch onto his foe, but the RR trooper knocked it aside, textbook style. But it was no respite, Jeremy suddenly forcing a gush of extra-potent stomach acids up his throat, and into his mouth.

His body automatically adjusted to ensure no internal harm, but when he spit, the nasty and dangerous spray went right into the DeDe's faceplate.

Mutant Power!
Toughness at -1:

Jeremy *rolls* 1d20: 17+3: 20

Ok, down to a -2.

Activating Healing Substances as a move action:

Jeremy *rolls* 1d20: 13+11: 24

More than enough DoS to remove his conditions... back to full health.

Now for the Standard Action:

Harming Substances: Damage 10 (Resisted by Fortitude; Secondary Effect, Multiattack, Accurate 4; Variable Descriptor: Chemical)

Jeremy *rolls* 1d20: 2+10: 12

[jameson] 4:07 pm: wah wah wahhhhhhhh

Anyway... Extra Effort, surging for Standard Action, Jeremy is Fatigued/Hindered.

Harming Substances: Damage 10 (Resisted by Fortitude; Secondary Effect, Multiattack, Accurate 4; Variable Descriptor: Chemical)

Jeremy *rolls* 1d20: 12+10: 22

That soytenly hits.

25 + 2 from 2 DoS Multiattack means Fortitude DC 27, Secondary Effect meaning it triggers again with the same DC at the end of Jeremy's next round if this guy is still alive.

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The sultry blonde hissed through her teeth as she convulsed with the exquisite agony of electricity racing through her nervous system. Rebekka's own memories compared it to the electroshock therapy she had endured in an attempt to cure her of her 'cravings' so many years ago, therapy that was swiftly abandoned when it had close to the opposite effect desired.

She tossed aside the ineffectual MP5 and continued to run in a wavering stagger, still in the throes of pain and pleasure, bound in the tangled threads of fear and arousal. The prospect of freedom was delicious, she just wished a small part of her didn't desire recapture and the terrible punishment she would suffer for the attempt.

Running through the Pain

Toughness Roll (Against DC 23): 1d20+5 = 15 Fail by 2 degrees (Dazed, -1 Toughness)

Free Action : Athletics Roll to increase speed

Athletics to Increase Speed (DC 15): 1d20+8 = 9 Fail (I think Carver stole all the good rolls)

Standard Action: Convert to Move Action - Keep running at an angle to the RRs (30 feet), trying to stay out of melee

HP: 1 | Toughness Penalty: -2 | Status Effects: Dazed

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As the enemy reached out and grasped her, he immobilized her, and at this point Mirage gave up trying to be gentle, she had been trying to get away without doing anymore damage then she had too, and now she accepted that was not going to be possible, and she began to turn her powers over emotions to try and get control over the one who was attempting to capture her, to turn him against his fellows. If she managed to take control over him, she would have him let her go and turn his attacks onto his fellows.

Get Free: Krul *rolls* 1d20: 10+2: 12

Empathic Manipulation: Krul *rolls* 1d20: 5+8: 13 (Mind Control attempt)

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The RR seemed to be fine even with Jeremy’s spit coating his mask. Perhaps the mask did provide some protection, because it didn’t seem to slow him much. The hands holding Mirage tight didn’t loosen at all, and she realized that she didn’t have a grip on his emotions yet.

Resolution Rolls for Round Two

RR # 1 [attacked by Jer] Fortitude Save vs DC 27 7+2 = 9

VP reroll: 8[18]+2 = 20, Dazed, -1 Toughness

RR #4 [attacked by Mirage] Will Save vs DC 20 18+2 = 20, Success


The RR facing Jeremy lashed out at him again. That glowing glove impacted with his shoulder, spinning him around once and sending painful bolts of energy though him. As Jer struggled with this attack, Rebekka felt thick, metallic arms wrap around her. For the first time, a tinny voice rang out through the facemask. “Keep up the struggle, little lady. I like it.”

Sorona found herself fighting against her own captor, but he didn’t let her go or seem to be beguiled by her. Instead, his arms tightened painfully. “Surrender.” The order was brisk and impersonal.

Rolls for Round Three

RR #1 [attacking Jer] Electrical Punch vs DC 14 13+6 = 19

Damage DC is 23

RR #2 [Attacking Illusion] Insight vs DC 20 6+7 = 13, Failure – will continue to be affected by the illusion

RR #3 [Attacking Rebekka] Grab vs DC 10 14+8 = 22

RR #4 [Attacking Mirage] Strength attack

Damage DC is 21


Rapid Responders – 18

Jeremy – 13

Rebekka – 8

Matt – 7

Mirage – 5

NPC Status

RR #1 – Dazed, -1 Toughness

RR #2 – Trapped by Illusion

RR #3 – Fine

RR #4 – Fine

PC Required Rolls and Notes

Jer gets a HP because a VP was used on him

Jer has to make a Toughness Save DC 23

Rebekka has to make a Strength or Dodge Save vs DC 16

Mirage has to make a Toughness Save DC 21

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Cold, metallic arms pinched and grated at her soft, silky flesh as Rebekka twisted free, luscious lips writhing in a shuddering grimace of pain and instinctive desire. She shook her head, dispelling the last of the electric spasms wracking her, and spun to her left as she ran away, graceful as a gazelle.

"Hon, you couldn't last a full ride on this," she countered, slapping her pert and perfect behind, as she attempted to remain elusive without getting too far away from her fellow escapees. "And rides are no longer for sale."

Desperately, she hoped Quake's escape plan would manifest. The siren call of the terrible punishment she would suffer for trying to run was rising, skin flushing at the heady thought, even as her lips tightened in resistance.

Rollling, Rolling, Rolling

Required Dodge Roll to Escape Grab (DC 16): 1d20+8 = 21 Success

Free Action: Athletics Roll to increase Speed (DC 15): 1d20+8 = 19 Success

Move Action: Moving 60 feet pass the DeDe who had grabbed her

Standard Action: Defend Action

Pre-rolled Dodge Defense: 1d20+8 = 26 (Only for attacks to which Dodge applies)

HP: 1 | Toughness Penalty: -2 | Status Effects: None

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Damn it! The pain sizzled Jeremy's nerves once again, and he was praying mentally that the long-distance egress would show itself. They wouldn't survive this long term clash with the RRs. With desperation Jeremy got his hands around the DeDe bootstomping thug's neck and poured everything he had of acid through the pores.

Keep Those Dice Here Rolling
Toughness Normal

Toughness Check vs DC 23 Electrical Punch

Jeremy *rolls* 1d20: 13+4: 17

Failed by 6, Dazed and -1 Toughness.

Time for Standard Action:

Harming Substances: Damage 10 (Resisted by Fortitude; Secondary Effect, Multiattack, Accurate 4; Variable Descriptor: Chemical)

Attack roll: Jeremy *rolls* 1d20: 16+10: 26

That hits, Secondary Effect gets pushed back another round, but DC 15+10+5 (3 DoS Multiattack) = DC 30 Fortitude. Tough luck, DeDe.

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Resolution Rolls for Round Three

Mirage [attacked by RR #3] Toughness save vs DC 21 10+0 = 10, fail by 11, Staggered, Toughness -1

RR #1 [attacked by Jer] Fortitude save vs DC 30 11+2 = 13, fail by 17, Incap

The Rapid Responder jerked back from Jer, then jerked again as acid pooled against his neck. Screaming, the man collapsed, leaving the badly hurt Jer standing. It was something of a victory.

Mirage cried out as metal-covered arms compressed her body mercilessly. It hurt and she could barely breathe…


“Bad move, baby. I wasn’t gonna hurt you – too much.” The Rapid Responder aimed the shot at the fleeing Rebekka. The shot went wide, very wide, striking his companion who was still wrestling with Mirage’s illusion and knocking him down.

Mirage felt those arms tightening again…

Then a beautiful sight – a black hole opened up in the open area in front of the cliff. “Whoo-hoo!” Matt crowed from his battle across the field; his cry was accompanied by a tank flipping over noisily. “Run!” His bellow was perhaps unnecessary, but the man shouted anyway.

Rolls for Round Four

RR #3 [attacking Rebecca] Electrical Cannon vs DC 10 1+6 = 7, miss

RR #4 [attacking Mirage] Strength Attack

Damage DC is 21


Rapid Responders – 18

Jeremy – 13

Tyrone – 9

Rebekka – 8

Matt – 7

Mirage – 5

PC Required Rolls and Notes

Mirage has to make a Toughness Save DC 21

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Mirage struggled against the man who had her, as he squeezed tight to try and get her to give up, calling on her to surrender, and she shook her head, maybe a few years ago, she would have willingly surrendered, but then, she wouldn't have tried so hard to escape back in those days, her experance sense then was enough that she would keep fighting to get free until she wasn't able to do so any longer. Turning to her powers over illusion once more, she made it seem as though she managed to slide out of his grasp to try and get him to let go just long enough for her to slip out of his gasp, and it worked as she desired it, she began to run once more, now that she was free again.

Toughness Save: Krul *rolls* 1d20: 16: 16

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The svelte, shapely blonde didn't need to be told twice, altering her course and racing for the shadowed circle that portended freedom. Each step was harder than the last, the desire to submit to the life she had known for the last fifty years a siren song. Red, perfect lips grew tighter the closer she came to that hole in space, turquoise eyes gleamed with determination to leave her old life behind for a new one, one unknown, but one that was free, and one that was hers.

From soft pants, her sensual voice rose into a ringing cry of exultation-fear-lust-joy-anger-regret-and-more, which cut off thunderously as she jumped through the black portal to elsewhere...

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Jeremy looked up at the hole, black fracture in reality signaling escape. "Venice comes to a close," he noted, hearkening back to his ambush in the back alleyways of the watery city. That chapter of life was over. What was coming with the turn of the page? Revenge, he wrote. Despite his injuries Jeremy turned to the portal and ran without attention to anything else. Escape or death...

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