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EMPOWERED ISSUE #1: "Innocence Lost"
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Ashton Mercer
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    LAS VEGAS METRO. POLICE REPORT
    CASE NO: 912███
DATE: 17 June 2018
REPORTING OFFICER: Officers █████, ███, █████ ,and █████, Lieutenant ████, Sergeant ██████
PREPARED BY: Lieutenant ████
    DETAIL OF EVENT: Starting at approximately 10:15 AM, dispatchers began to receive reports of a homicide and a potential hostage situation that was occurring outside of the ████████ Diner. The main suspect was reported to be a young Latino male in a white hoodie, although other accomplices and potential victims were reported.
    ACTIONS TAKEN: Officers █████ and ███ were the first to arrive at the scene at approximately 10:22 AM. The victim, identified via dental record as 26 year old exotic dancer Eva █████, was found dead, lying face down in the main parking lot and completely covered in bright purple flames. An 8 year old boy, identified as Andrew ███, was found sitting near the body in a state of extreme emotional distress. The officers drew their weapons and immediately called for backup.
    Officers █████ and █████ arrived at 10:26, followed by Lieutenant ████ and Sergeant ██████ at 10:30. The officers swept the building and the surrounding area for the suspect and failed to find anything. The suspect and any accomplices or other targets had disappeared, although a white hoodie with significant bloodstains was found tossed on the edge of a nearby dumpster.
    While a perimeter was being established and the crime scene was being secured, Sergeant ██████, accompanied by Officers █████ and ███, peacefully attempted to take Andrew ███ into custody. Andrew resisted and quickly turned hostile, destroying all three squad cars, killing Officer ███ instantly and severely injuring Sergeant ██████, before being shot by Officer █████ and incapacitated at 10:36 AM. Medical assistance and additional police backup were then called to the scene.
    OUTCOME AND SUMMARY: Sergeant ██████ and Andrew ███ were both taken to ██████ Hospital and admitted to the Intensive Care Unit. Andrew ███ is in critical condition and is currently undergoing emergency surgery, and although his chances of survival are "slim to none" we have stationed 24/7 guard outside the door of the operating room. Sergeant ██████ is in stable condition, is conscious and in "good spirits", and is expected to make a nearly full recovery in the next 2-3 months. Officer █████ was placed on temporary administrative leave and voluntarily admitted himself to crisis counseling.
    The incident has been reported to the FBI's Power Crimes Division as mandated by American Super Act of 1978. We are still waiting for word as to whether or not the Bureau will take over the investigation into the alleged homicide and hostage taking. In the meantime, forensic teams have started their work on the crime scene and LVMPD patrols are still on the lookout for a recently severely injured Latino male. Footage from several nearby CCTV cameras is currently under review to identify the suspect.


    Several weeks later...

    It was sunrise at AMG Specialty Hospital in Las Vegas. Alone, a nurse walked to her special assignment, showing her photo ID to the bleary-eyed cop who with a wordless nod unlocked the door and let her in. A young boy laid back on the cot, chest wrapped in bandages and arms and legs connected to a myriad of biometric wires and IV bags. Her job was to take care of this boy, named Andrew. The nurse had to make sure that his vitals were okay and that his life wouldn't be in danger, but above all it was important to make sure he was in good mental health, so as to avoid a repeat of the superpowered outburst that landed him in the hospital with bullet holes in his chest in the first place. It was only a mixture of speed, luck, and the determination and skill of the trauma team in undertaking a thirty-seven hour surgery to save his life. It was a occasionally harrowing job, but the nurse had a great deal of experience and as she had dealt with both the violent mentally ill and superhumans, and was not afraid of what he could do.

    The first thing the nurse noticed that Andrew was wide awake this time. Odd, considering that he wasn't typically responsive at all until well after sunrise, and wouldn't stir himself unless prodded until around noon. She smiled at him. To the eyes of many nurses at the hospital, Andrew was still just a little kid, even with immense power behind him and with blood on his hands. He was just at the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong strength and the wrong attitude, which results in things like this all too often when America's angry powered youth encounter America's trigger-happy police.
    "Well, good morning sweetie! Are you feeling alright today? Any pain keeping you up?"
    Andrew breathed deeply through his nose, answering in his typical subdued and tired voice. "No. I'm okay."
    "Good." The nurse turned to a series of monitors. "I'm just gonna do a check up on you, make sure that your heart rate and everything is going good, alright?"
    "Okay."

    Some minutes of silence passed while the nurse did her work. Blood tests, vital measurements, double checking the dosage of painkillers and other IV drugs. The mundane things. Andrew still was awake though, so she decided to start another conversation.
    "Hey, Andrew, can I ask you something? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
    Andrew sat up slightly and clenched his fists, instantly becoming agitated. "What?"
    "Why'd you wake up so early this morning? You usually don't wake up on your own until lunchtime."
    Andrew paused, stared at the nurse for a moment, then relaxed. "Oh, that... I dunno." He looked out the window at the reddened horizon. "Just wanted to watch the sun come up, I guess."
    They both looked out the window together. Andrew spoke again. "Back when I was home, my mom used to wake me up for school right about now. On Fridays, when she had to work all day,  we would sometimes get donuts at Crunchy Cream before I got dropped off. We'd stay at the parking lot, turn off the radio and stuff, and just talk and watch the sunrise together for a little bit."
    The nurse smiled sadly and nodded. "That sounds nice."
    "Yeah." Andrew said, choking up. "I miss it a lot. I miss her a lot."
    "Well, look at it this way," the nurse said. "Even though your mom's gone, one day, you'll find someone you love who you can share moments like that with again."
    Andrew wiped his eyes. "You think so?"
    "Oh honey, I know so." She grinned and tussled his hair. "Why, when you're a little bit older, girls will be going absolutely crazy for a boy as tough and handsome as you. You're bound to fall in love with at least one of them, right?"
    For the first time since he came to the hospital, Andrew laughed.
    "Haha- ah- uh- owww..."
    "Oh, yeah. Try not to laugh too hard. Your stitches haven't fully healed yet, and laughing can get them all out of shape."
    "Thanks for telling me now..." muttered Andrew. He was still smiling, though.

    Another nurse entered the room and spoke to the first nurse. "Hey, Marissa, can I talk to you outside for a moment?"
    "Right. Sure."
    The staff in charge of taking care of Andrew has been discussing this for weeks. While the media circus ebbed and flowed around what was being dubbed as the Vegas Diner Incident, various virulent opinions circulated about the survivor at the center of it all. Many believed Andrew to be something of a demon-child, a demented cop killer who should have just been left to die on the parking lot instead of being airlifted to a top-notch hospital; just because he was a super and a kid doesn't mean he isn't a public danger. Many others believed Andrew to be somewhat innocent, the victim of an violent police force that all too often was abusive and incompetent when dealing with superhumans; the LVMPD does not have a great track record with powered relations.
    Regardless of what the frothing masses believed, the hospital staff believed that life was only going to get worse for Andrew either way, and that while he was in their care he deserved to be treated with kindness. So, some of the staff pooled a little bit of money together and bought him a stuffed teddy bear as a present and a souvenir, to give Andrew some comfort on the difficult road ahead and to remind him of all the people who helped him, which hopefully would give him some happiness and hope.
    "David finally went out and bought it."
    Marissa held the bear in her hands. It was well-made and fluffy, just like they had wanted it to be. "About damn time, too. Interns..."
    "...are only a little less busy than we are. Shit, if I wasn't getting paid for these hours, I would've just grabbed the money and run!"
    The two nurses laughed and walked back toward the guarded hospital room.

    Suddenly, a horrible roar that sounded like something between a human scream and thunder came from Andrew's room. The police officer paled and quickly went to unlock the door, hand on his gun holster. Marissa was so startled, she dropped the bear on the floor.
    "The hell was th-"
    An explosion tore through the room, shattering the wooden door into pieces and laying out anyone outside and sending the bear flying. The lights went out in the hallway, and the screeching of a fire alarm echoed through the hospital as smoke rose and dust settled. Coughing, collecting themselves, and brushing themselves off, the nurses and the cop pulled themselves up and slowly approached the darkened room. The police officer drew his gun and a flashlight and, with shaking hands, entered.

    It was a complete disaster. Quite literally everything in the room was broken: scorch and claw marks covered the walls, wires and tubes were splayed about, the lights had been shot out, the bed was tilted on two legs, water jetted out of the busted sink, screens and electronic equipment were broken into pieces and causing electrical sparks. Red streaks of blood, perhaps from stitches torn open again by sudden movement, led from Andrew's now empty bed and out through the broken window. The police officer and the nurses rushed to the window, but neither normal Andrew or his presumably terrifying super form were anywhere to be seen outside. Nothing at all was.
    "Oh my God... No, no, no..."
    "What happened...?"
    The cop leaned into his radio and started shouting as doctors attempted to evacuate their patients from the floor.
    "We got a 10-35 at AMG Specialty! Superpowered person of interest missing! I repeat, 10-35 at AMG hospital, requesting heavy backup, an ambulance and a search team now! NOW, DAMN IT!"
    Within minutes, the hospital and the surrounding area was swarming with police, SWAT, and counter-terrorism personnel. Armored vehicles and squad cars with flashing red and blue lights screamed across the city, but it was all in vain. Andrew was gone. Police picked up the pieces, including a scorched and torn teddy bear, and called in the Feds. This had gotten out of their hands.


    The story comes to you. It's late at night, and you're doing something mundane. Watching TV, playing video games, doing chores, gearing up to go fight crime or the opposite, whatever. It's a pretty unremarkable night.

    Suddenly, you hear a knocking. As an active superhuman, you've developed a not really irrational phobia of unexpected knocks on your door, especially at this time of night. Still, you're not a coward. You slowly, silently approach the door and look carefully through the peephole. You see two men, perfectly inconspicuous except for the fact that they're wearing sunglasses late at night. One of them is flashing a badge at the door. You look at their waists, and both of them are armed. The realization slaps you in the face: it's not a neighbor or even the local police, but g-men. Maybe CIA, NSA, DoD, MJ-12, or even the-
    "FBI," one of them shouts in a neutral tone. "Power Crimes. Open up."
    You hesitate as your history overwhelms you. What are they after you for? Are they even after you? It doesn't matter, because you find yourself considering a variety of options anyways: ambush and double homicide, escape through a backdoor or a window, finally surrender to the government, take a hostage, negotiate while in an armed standoff, among others. As you weigh your options, the other agent speaks impatiently, as though he knows your thoughts.
    "Look, we know you're in there. Relax. You're not in any sort of trouble. In fact, we're here to ask for a favor. We don't even really need to come inside for this, but we should for privacy's sake. Now, please, just open the damn door so we can get this over with."

    After a moment's hesitation, you relent, and the agents enter your home. This story is yours now.
    Ashton Mercer
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  • "Ó, fífl það" Thurmond muttered as he opened the door, allowing the two men into his home. The room was very rustic in appearance, with fur pelts everywhere, very basic furniture. On the wall a bow hung over top a selection of small axes, only two designs, but many clones of each.
     Thurmond walked over to his kitchen, grabbed a jug of liquid and two handmade mugs and a horn, then carried them over to the two agents.
    "So, what is it that the mighty FBI would want with me eh, what have they told you about me?" He asked in a soft yet cold tone, as he poured them each a drink and then himself one. Then he sat down in a chair and motioned towards the adjacent couch while he awaited an answer.
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  • Daniel groggily woke up from his slumber on the beat up easy chair, reaching inside his jacket pocket for a pack of smokes. Getting up and walking to the door in his underoos, he was barely able to determine the identity of the people knocking on his door. He wouldn't try to run, that would only solidify his identity. No, he would keep up the role of the tired, hungover vagrant who couldn't possibly be anyone of importance. Opening the door, he intended to let out a hardy burp, but it ended up coming out of the wrong end.
    Fuck it, Daniel thought, same effect...
    Stumbling as he let the agents inside his filthy apartment, he blurted out something stupid to really nail it home.
    "Come on in ociffer, the whiskey's fine. Dunno what he did, but I'm sure he was a Detroiter."
    Had he gone too far with that one? Nah, cops are idiots, even if they're federal cops. And besides, he wasn't entirely sure he was sober at any point in the day to begin with, so being this way came naturally.
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  • Arcadia looks at the agents and says "Mmm I'm busy what is it" arcadia goes back to his computer continues his work and says "can you guys come back some other time?"   
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    Ashton Mercer
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    "Ó, fífl það" Thurmond muttered as he opened the door, allowing the two men into his home. The room was very rustic in appearance, with fur pelts everywhere, very basic furniture. On the wall a bow hung over top a selection of small axes, only two designs, but many clones of each.
     Thurmond walked over to his kitchen, grabbed a jug of liquid and two handmade mugs and a horn, then carried them over to the two agents.
    "So, what is it that the mighty FBI would want with me eh, what have they told you about me?" He asked in a soft yet cold tone, as he poured them each a drink and then himself one. Then he sat down in a chair and motioned towards the adjacent couch while he awaited an answer.
    The two agents entered the rustic room and took a seat. One of them took a swig out of the mug.
    "Hmm. Did you make this mead yourself, Thurmond? It's very good."
    "We didn't come here to talk about old-school beer," the other agent snapped, annoyed. "Anyways, what we were told was that you have the capability to help us in an investigation."
    The first agent put down his mug and nodded. "That's right. Tell us, Thurmond, have you been watching the news lately? You've heard about a certain 'Vegas Diner Incident', right?"
    drunk danny

    Daniel groggily woke up from his slumber on the beat up easy chair, reaching inside his jacket pocket for a pack of smokes. Getting up and walking to the door in his underoos, he was barely able to determine the identity of the people knocking on his door. He wouldn't try to run, that would only solidify his identity. No, he would keep up the role of the tired, hungover vagrant who couldn't possibly be anyone of importance. Opening the door, he intended to let out a hardy burp, but it ended up coming out of the wrong end.
    Fuck it, Daniel thought, same effect...
    Stumbling as he let the agents inside his filthy apartment, he blurted out something stupid to really nail it home.
    "Come on in ociffer, the whiskey's fine. Dunno what he did, but I'm sure he was a Detroiter."
    Had he gone too far with that one? Nah, cops are idiots, even if they're federal cops. And besides, he wasn't entirely sure he was sober at any point in the day to begin with, so being this way came naturally.
    The two agents entered the room and were fairly disgusted.
    "Ugh, Jesus Christ..."
    "You live in here? Don't actually answer that. We know."
    They sized up Daniel for a moment, then one of them spoke. "Do you watch the news a lot, Daniel? It doesn't seem like you do, but as a man with superhuman powers like yours, you absolutely should."
    "A more important question might be whether or not you are willing to help us for a decent amount of money, all in cash," the other agent said quickly. "We have an offer for you."
    fate


    Arcadia looks at the agents and says "Mmm I'm busy what is it" arcadia goes back to his computer continues his work and says "can you guys come back some other time?"
    The younger agent outside snarled. "I'm afraid it's urgent, Mr..."
    "We have an opportunity for you," the older agent said, tapping his foot against the metal floor. "To be a hero, to get some money, to get on the federal government's good side, what have you. Should be an easy task, for a man of your intellect. Are you interested?"
    Ashton Mercer
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  • arcadia looks at the older agent "Mmm you think flattery will get everywhere? but yes to be a hero sounds nice" arcadia looks at the younger agent "Mmm this one needs to chill out ahahah" arcadia goes to get his suit on.
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  • drunk danny

    Daniel groggily woke up from his slumber on the beat up easy chair, reaching inside his jacket pocket for a pack of smokes. Getting up and walking to the door in his underoos, he was barely able to determine the identity of the people knocking on his door. He wouldn't try to run, that would only solidify his identity. No, he would keep up the role of the tired, hungover vagrant who couldn't possibly be anyone of importance. Opening the door, he intended to let out a hardy burp, but it ended up coming out of the wrong end.
    Fuck it, Daniel thought, same effect...
    Stumbling as he let the agents inside his filthy apartment, he blurted out something stupid to really nail it home.
    "Come on in ociffer, the whiskey's fine. Dunno what he did, but I'm sure he was a Detroiter."
    Had he gone too far with that one? Nah, cops are idiots, even if they're federal cops. And besides, he wasn't entirely sure he was sober at any point in the day to begin with, so being this way came naturally.
    The two agents entered the room and were fairly disgusted.
    "Ugh, Jesus Christ..."
    "You live in here? Don't actually answer that. We know."
    They sized up Daniel for a moment, then one of them spoke. "Do you watch the news a lot, Daniel? It doesn't seem like you do, but as a man with superhuman powers like yours, you absolutely should."
    "A more important question might be whether or not you are willing to help us for a decent amount of money, all in cash," the other agent said quickly. "We have an offer for you."
    Daniel was about to continue the stupid charade while he looked for a way to melt both of these dickheads' faces off, but when money was mentioned he nearly spit out his liquor.
    "Heh, I think the bourbon must have gone to my ears because I thought I heard you say that you're looking to hire me."
    That can't be right can it? Maybe I really am drunk. I mean, there's absolutely no way in hell that Uncle Sam wants to pay a guy who they probably know is a domestic terrorist for anything,
    right? It's probably a trick, gotta get ready for a fight...
    Justinian Ezkantion
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  • thormond

    "Ó, fífl það" Thurmond muttered as he opened the door, allowing the two men into his home. The room was very rustic in appearance, with fur pelts everywhere, very basic furniture. On the wall a bow hung over top a selection of small axes, only two designs, but many clones of each.
     Thurmond walked over to his kitchen, grabbed a jug of liquid and two handmade mugs and a horn, then carried them over to the two agents.
    "So, what is it that the mighty FBI would want with me eh, what have they told you about me?" He asked in a soft yet cold tone, as he poured them each a drink and then himself one. Then he sat down in a chair and motioned towards the adjacent couch while he awaited an answer.
    The two agents entered the rustic room and took a seat. One of them took a swig out of the mug.
    "Hmm. Did you make this mead yourself, Thurmond? It's very good."
    "We didn't come here to talk about old-school beer," the other agent snapped, annoyed. "Anyways, what we were told was that you have the capability to help us in an investigation."
    The first agent put down his mug and nodded. "That's right. Tell us, Thurmond, have you been watching the news lately? You've heard about a certain 'Vegas Diner Incident', right?"

    Thurmond grinned as he took a sip, "I am glad you like. I did hear about that já. Terrible thing indeed. But what "capabilities" do I have that can help you? Last I heard a woman was dead and some people were shot. I don't know about what you think I can do, but necromancy is not in my repertoire  of skills." With that he chuckled and took another sip. He set the horn in a stand and got very serious in the eyes. "And what makes you think I would help you? Is there anything in it for me or is it just "For the good of the people" kjaftæði, erm, bullshit?"
    Cinciri
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    Ashton Mercer
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  • arcadia looks at the older agent "Mmm you think flattery will get everywhere? but yes to be a hero sounds nice" arcadia looks at the younger agent "Mmm this one needs to chill out ahahah" arcadia goes to get his suit on.
    The agents were both confused.
    "So, you're agreeing to everything," the younger agent asked, ignoring Arcadia's trollish dig. "We haven't even told you-"
    The older agent waved his hand. "Ah, shut it. Given how uncooperative supers have been in the past, this is a blessing. We can fill him in at Sacramento."
    The younger agent nodded, tossed Arcadia the necessary paperwork, and left with the older agent.
    $$$$
    Daniel was about to continue the stupid charade while he looked for a way to melt both of these dickheads' faces off, but when money was mentioned he nearly spit out his liquor.
    "Heh, I think the bourbon must have gone to my ears because I thought I heard you say that you're looking to hire me."
    That can't be right can it? Maybe I really am drunk. I mean, there's absolutely no way in hell that Uncle Sam wants to pay a guy who they probably know is a domestic terrorist for anything,
    right? It's probably a trick, gotta get ready for a fight...
    "You heard correctly, Mr. Morris," the lead agent said, handing the drunk a piece of paper. "Five hundred thousand dollar payout guaranteed, which becomes between one million and five million if you do your job well."
    The other agent nodded. "All you have to do is sign here and show up to our facility in Sacramento, where we will brief you and the others on the rest. All expenses will be paid. Are you interested?"
    wörk
    Thurmond grinned as he took a sip, "I am glad you like. I did hear about that já. Terrible thing indeed. But what "capabilities" do I have that can help you? Last I heard a woman was dead and some people were shot. I don't know about what you think I can do, but necromancy is not in my repertoire  of skills." With that he chuckled and took another sip. He set the horn in a stand and got very serious in the eyes. "And what makes you think I would help you? Is there anything in it for me or is it just "For the good of the people" kjaftæði, erm, bullshit?"
    The dry agent nodded. "Right. However, it's not the woman we are concerned with, but with the boy who got shot. He's gone missing from the hospital, and we are looking for superhumans to help find him."
    He adjusted his clip-on tie. "As for the reward, this is all for the good of society, but we know nobody except idealistic kids work for free."
    The agent who drank the mead handed Thurmond a piece of paper.
    "Here's the contract. Five hundred thousand dollars guaranteed, between one and five million dollars payout if we like the way the job turned out. All reasonable expenses paid until the end of the year or until we get results. You'll get more details about the case and our expectations at our site in Sacramento, California."
    The dry agent nodded and looked at Thurmond intently. "Do we have a deal?"
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    The agents were both confused.
    "So, you're agreeing to everything," the younger agent asked, ignoring Arcadia's trollish dig. "We haven't even told you-"
    The older agent waved his hand. "Ah, shut it. Given how uncooperative supers have been in the past, this is a blessing. We can fill him in at Sacramento."
    The younger agent nodded, tossed Arcadia the necessary paperwork, and left with the older agent.

    Arcadia goes through the paperwork scanning quickly "ahaha looks ok" thinking why me? Arcadia goes for his sword, looks around to make sure all is in order locks his computers down loudly shouts "Don't want the wrong people looking at my work AHAH" sets off with his suit on and the massive 7ft greatsword. Arcadia starts laughing turns back "Oops I should lock the door" looking around still not sure if this will go well.....
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    Justinian Ezkantion
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  • "You heard correctly, Mr. Morris," the lead agent said, handing the drunk a piece of paper. "Five hundred thousand dollar payout guaranteed, which becomes between one million and five million if you do your job well."
    The other agent nodded. "All you have to do is sign here and show up to our facility in Sacramento, where we will brief you and the others on the rest. All expenses will be paid. Are you interested?"
    Daniel's pupils immediately dilated to twice their normal size at the mere mention of such vast sums.
    Money, and lots of it. Money that would make me powerful. Finally high enough on that social ladder to start some REAL shit.
    Gathering himself together and calming himself down, Daniel finally had the sense to drop the act and spoke with a bit of dignity for the first time that night, at least if you don't count him talking to himself when he was lighting that tenement on fire just a few hours ago.
    "Well then, count me in. As long as this money isn't gonna be deducted by tax or anything."
    With that said Dan signed paper after paper with his not so steady hand and got ready to leave the house, but still very careful about his surroundings. After all, capture would be a very bad way for this domestic terrorist to end up, indeed.
    Justinian Ezkantion
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  • The dry agent nodded. "Right. However, it's not the woman we are concerned with, but with the boy who got shot. He's gone missing from the hospital, and we are looking for superhumans to help find him."
    He adjusted his clip-on tie. "As for the reward, this is all for the good of society, but we know nobody except idealistic kids work for free."
    The agent who drank the mead handed Thurmond a piece of paper.
    "Here's the contract. Five hundred thousand dollars guaranteed, between one and five million dollars payout if we like the way the job turned out. All reasonable expenses paid until the end of the year or until we get results. You'll get more details about the case and our expectations at our site in Sacramento, California."
    The dry agent nodded and looked at Thurmond intently. "Do we have a deal?"
    Thurmond's eyes mellowed out immediately, tracking he could do, not to mention the cash sounded mighty fine to him.
    "Alright, you have yourself a deal friends." he said, and turned and started to gather some objects in a bag, namely clothes, a longbow, a quiver full of arrows. and some other generic tools. After this he threw some full bottles into his bag and slung it over a chair.
    "Will I be going with you? Or am I supposed to find this base myself?" he asked once everything was in order, finishing his preparation by holstering his tomahawks to his belt.
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      He/Him/His
      Familial House
      Noble House of Valeria
      Wintreath Nation
      Logged
    Aethelia
  • Former Citizen
  • Ethereal Dream
  • Edit: Ignore this, I just need a quick reminder table for myself so I don't forget the other characters too easily. Easier for me to find later if I throw it into my first post.

    Justinian EzkantionDaniel Llewellyn MorrisThe Westside Scorcher27 MCEFire. Explosions.
    CinciriThurmond þrumði-øxThe Berserkr22 MCN/CEElectricity. Jump.
    Fayt??Arcadia25 MLGINT. STR. SPD. Sword.
    ElbbsasEmme PlaneOptical22 FLNEnergy Wall.
    AetheliaMaya SaraswatiMesmer17 FNGIllusion. Phase through.
    DocIsaac PerryAztech40s? MLG? LN?A lot. Defense suit.
    BraveSirRobin-----
    xXTheHydraXx-----





    /Edit




    Maya Saraswati was enjoying a night alone at home reading while her parents were out. The knocking was sudden and unexpected.
    "FBI"
    Not again... this isn't the first time they've mistakenly come to deport Maya's family.
    "Power Crimes. Open up."
    Oh, they're not here for Maya. They're here for Mesmer.
    Uncertain whether this would lead to unwanted obligations, Mesmer decides to use some illusions to make herself appear unfit to fulfill their requests.
    To check that they really are FBI, Mesmer thinks <How can I open the front door as they request... if it is not real?> and phases through the door slightly to get a good look at them, before stepping back, deciding the door is real after all, and opening it slowly.
    "Hello... I am sorry that I may have to disappoint you..."
    Mesmer opens the door all the way, revealing her (illusory) arm cast, crutches, and bandaged ribs.
    "...but I'm not in the best shape right now to do you a favor. Come in and tell me what you would like from me, I just can't make any promises."
    she continues as she fake limps away to give them room to enter.
    « Last Edit: July 18, 2017, 07:43:29 PM by Aethelia »
    Aethelia
    • Ethereal Dream
    • Posts: 781
    • Karma: 332
    • Former Citizen
    • Pronouns
      She/Her/Hers
      Familial House
      No
      Wintreath Nation
      Logged
    Elbbsas
  • Citizen


  • On the one hand, Emme thought, eyeing the men through the peephole, they could be lying and are actively malicious. On the other, even if they are lying they’re taking the time to be cordial, so I may well see what they have to say.

    Yawning, Emme opened the door.

    “You aren’t the usual patronage of the circus,” she said as a greeting. “And since the circus isn’t performed in my lodgings in the middle of the night, I’ll assume you are here for a difference performance altogether.” Emme stepped aside and gestured the men into the room. “Drinks? Or would you prefer to cut straight to the chase? I only have water, regardless.”
    Elbbsas
    • Posts: 2,850
    • Karma: 1,306
    • Citizen
    • Familial House
      Kaizer
      Wintreath Nation
      Logged
    Ashton Mercer
  • Former Citizen
  • icy hot
  • mellow
    Thurmond's eyes mellowed out immediately, tracking he could do, not to mention the cash sounded mighty fine to him.
    "Alright, you have yourself a deal friends." he said, and turned and started to gather some objects in a bag, namely clothes, a longbow, a quiver full of arrows. and some other generic tools. After this he threw some full bottles into his bag and slung it over a chair.
    "Will I be going with you? Or am I supposed to find this base myself?" he asked once everything was in order, finishing his preparation by holstering his tomahawks to his belt.
    "I'm afraid you'll have to meet the rest of the team at the Sacramento facility," said the dry agent. "We do not have the time, resources, or the inclination to provide an escort to someone who doesn't need it. We'll pay for your transport, as a courtesy."
    The two left Thurmond to prepare for a flight.
    needs more artemis fowl references


    Maya Saraswati was enjoying a night alone at home reading while her parents were out. The knocking was sudden and unexpected.
    "FBI"
    Not again... this isn't the first time they've mistakenly come to deport Maya's family.
    "Power Crimes. Open up."
    Oh, they're not here for Maya. They're here for Mesmer.
    Uncertain whether this would lead to unwanted obligations, Mesmer decides to use some illusions to make herself appear unfit to fulfill their requests.
    To check that they really are FBI, Mesmer thinks <How can I open the front door as they request... if it is not real?> and phases through the door slightly to get a good look at them, before stepping back, deciding the door is real after all, and opening it slowly.
    "Hello... I am sorry that I may have to disappoint you..."
    Mesmer opens the door all the way, revealing her (illusory) arm cast, crutches, and bandaged ribs.
    "...but I'm not in the best shape right now to do you a favor. Come in and tell me what you would like from me, I just can't make any promises."
    she continues as she fake limps away to give them room to enter.
    The agents both hesitated when they saw Mesmer. They nodded at her invitation and quickly shot words at each other under their breaths.
    "It's her alright, but I wasn't told we would be drafting an invalid for this kind of work," one of the agents muttered to his coworker. "Are we wasting our time with her?"
    "I wasn't told about this either," said the other agent, pursing her lips. "I think something's not right. Let's see this through."
    They entered the room and stopped where Maya stopped. "We were wondering if you would be willing to help us solve a certain case," the female agent said. "We need your help to find a young superhuman person of interest that has gone missing. We have reason to believe that his life is in danger, and if we don't get him back, thousands of others may be in danger too. We would be willing to pay you very generously. Would you like to join?"
    family circus


    On the one hand, Emme thought, eyeing the men through the peephole, they could be lying and are actively malicious. On the other, even if they are lying they’re taking the time to be cordial, so I may well see what they have to say.

    Yawning, Emme opened the door.

    “You aren’t the usual patronage of the circus,” she said as a greeting. “And since the circus isn’t performed in my lodgings in the middle of the night, I’ll assume you are here for a difference performance altogether.” Emme stepped aside and gestured the men into the room. “Drinks? Or would you prefer to cut straight to the chase? I only have water, regardless.”
    "We'll cut right to the chase," the head agent at the door said. "I'm afraid we are short on time."
    "Yesterday morning, a young superhuman disappeared violently from a hospital in Las Vegas," the other agent said. "We are assembling a team of superhumans to find this person of interest before he dies or vanishes for good, and the information he could have provided goes to waste. We would be willing to pay you handsomely for your service to society. Are you interested?"
    Ashton Mercer
    • icy hot
    • Posts: 744
    • Karma: 226
    • Former Citizen
    • Pronouns
      He/Him/His
      Wintreath Nation
      Logged
     
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