Mutant NES: The Rising

[SKILORD]

“Do you have a cell phone?” Raul asks Alice, he had burned his own after taking her panicked call to which she shakes her head.

“Things keep burning out on me,” she says.

Raul smiles, “Understandable. We should work on that control.”

Alice gives a shy smile, Raul hands her a newspaper, with an article circled, a convenience store blown up.

“The lions,” he tells her while she reads, “feeding us to the lions.”

“But what can we do about it?”

Raul smiles, “Terrorism.”

Alice frowns, “I don’t want to kill anyone.”

Raul shakes his head, “Me neither, murder is a sloppy tool for cowards. I’m not trying to stop life, I’m trying to abolish fear.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Alice sits in the passenger seat.

“It’s basic nonviolence with socialism, if Gandhi and Marx had a kid. Society is made up of different social and economic statuses, and although each of these groups contributes to the whole they each are treated differently. Let’s say you identify with one of the oppressed groups, here in America let’s say mutants. How do you stop that oppression? You highlight that they contribute to the society and that the society exists with their consent, just like it does for anyone.”

“How do you do that without killing anyone?”

“It has to do with your little prank on the Subway.”

“That just got my sister shot.”

Raul is stunned silent, that’s a hell of a thing to talk about, he would never have broached the subject.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a second, “What happened to your sister though, it’s just the product of this sort of violent and repressive system that is a product of our fears. If we want to end those fears then we must face them, do you know the story of Job?”

“I guess, I thought it was about… umm… faith in adversity?”

Raul shakes his head, “Stupid protestants.”

“What do you mean?”

“Job is a story about actualizing your fears. It’s about a man who has everything to lose, everything to fear, who lives in that fear. And then these things happen and he survives and he even learns a thing or two and is a stronger person for the experience when it is all said and done.”

“You have got to stop talking in riddles man,” Alice says.

“What I’m saying is that the only problem with your little prank on the Subway is that you didn’t do it at the stock exchange.”

Her eyes brighten, “So you’re saying when they see that even a single person can shut it down, then they’ll treat mutants with respect? What if it gets violent?”

“If they want an excuse to get violent then they’ll find one. If Brother Obama insists on cracking down on mutants then he will, I don’t see an option but to negotiate, loudly, and to do that we need to establish that mutants are not powerless, and that there is no blood on our hands.”

“I… get it. But how are we going to get in?”

“You’ll need a new hoodie,” Raul grins, “Costumes like that are a hazard.”

“Costumes?”

“Yeah, we’re not the justice league. We don’t need them identifying us.”

“I can’t just electrocute it from outside though.”

Raul says, “leave that to me.”

--

EDIT: The update style is good for this sort of game, I like it.

 

[DarthNader]

Fedya finished explaining who the two contacts were and why they came. Bronislav slid two fried eggs onto his guest's plate.

Don't get your suit dirty. You want coffee?

Karak, please don't avoid answering. I did this as favor for you.

Bronislav set the frying pan back on the stove and sighed.

Fedya, my friend, why would you think I want to join a Communist mutant militia?

I don't know. You've seen news, many people want your kind gone. You know I have no quarrels with the mutant peoples, only if they disrespect me or my "business". Perhaps you would like to help your peoples, and I want to help you my good friend.

I no longer believe in the ideals of Marx.

Neither do I. But these were a group I know might fit your tastes.

No Fedya, I do not share the same views as they do. As far as people know, I am like you, a talented man...one who is good at carrying out particular tasks and working in a particular field. I assumed you knew this.

I apologize. I was only trying to h-

I wish to work for you.

Fedya's fork stopped just short of his gaping mouth.

Are you sure Karak? Just the other day you said you were not ready.

I had been considering it these past few days. The taxi can only get me so far, and I believe it is time to take you up on your offer.

Karak. I am happy you have decided this. I wish we could talk longer, but I have been summoned. I will be back, and we will take care of a few things before you get started.

Fedya stood and walked to Bronislav, who was still clad in an undershirt and boxers. He grasped his shoulders with both hands.

Welcome my brother. Dobro pozhalovatʹ v bratva.

He patted Bronislav on the cheek and strode out the door.

 

[Seon]

Detective Evans saw the slightly opened doorway and felt her heart sink. “Rey , call for reinforcements!” she yelled to her partner.

“Y-yes,” Rey replied, took out his cell phone, and furiously began punching numbers into it.

Evans kicked open the door and looked inside. Miss Ryder, the witness, lay dead. The house was partly ransacked.

“Damn it!” Detective Evans cursed.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

You finish your cup of hot chocolate as you stare at the red-haired figure slowly making her way through the crowd and towards the café you were sitting in. Dlanor Knox. She seems uncertain, unable to properly navigate her way through the immense crowd. She did spend most of her time in the Mexico-American borders and levitated instead of walking after all.

A particularly burly man bumps into her and knocks her into a telephone pole. You see her grimace in pain, but do not rise to help her.

You did choose to spend your afternoon here in case Dlanor tried to approach you after all.

You are shocked, however, when she reaches the café. Her eyes do not show any sign of anger, nor does it show her usual neutrality. It seems… apologetic.

“Mr. Tepper,” Dlanor speaks first, as usual. “Ms. Knox,” you answer back. “What are you doing here?”

“I had…” Dlanor pauses. “A feeling…that I would find you here.” She is lying. Her appearance suggests that she has been searching for you. Searching for a very long time. “Anyways, I came to apologize, Mr. Tepper.”

“If it’s about the woman, forget it,” you mutter. “Yes, I know,” Dlanor says hurriedly. “I understand that you deem what I did…unforgivable. I wished to apologize for my behavior.”

“Your behavior?”

“Yes. I was nervous. I had never been in New York before and the order I received from Boss was…unique. I said some things that would pass as largely hypocritical. I was also callous to your feelings. I understand that you have been…”

“Don’t.”

Dlanor stopped herself. She opened her mouth to say something else, but snapped it shut. She silently walked away. You see her melt away in the crowd, be pushed around a little, as she makes her way away from you.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Same day 9:00 PM.

You walk aimlessly through the dark alleyways of New York. You are hoping to be mugged.

It’s not that you really want to be mugged, of course. You just need some things to vent your frustration on. It seems, however, that you are out of luck today. Perhaps New York is not crime filled as you hoped it would be.

You can hear some screaming from a nearby strip club. But then again the bouncers who work there have unusually good ability for maintaining order. You ignore it and enter the pub.

A red haired, blue suited figure lies collapsed on the bar. Was she waiting for me? “Hey! Hey you!” the barkeeper points his index finger towards you. “You know her, right?”

“*hic* Mr….Mr…Tepper?” Dlanor manages to mutter, rising to her feet. “How d-did you…” she stumbles around.

The barkeeper looks at her critically. “I don’t think she had a drop of alcohol before in her life! Did she come from some super-conservative South or something? Do they still have Prohibition Law or something there?”

“I’ll take her to somewhere else,” you say hurriedly. The barkeeper nods. “You better go quickly! She’s scaring away my customer!”

You put your arm around Dlanor, supporting her as you leave the pub. “Thank you, *hic* Mr. Tepper,” Dlanor says as the door closes behind her.

“Don’t mention it,” you begin walking towards your hotel and pause. “Where are you staying again?”

Dlanor blinks. You blink right back. Could an actual detective really be this street stupid? You continue to head towards your hotel

“I kno*hic*w what you are thinking, Mr. Tepper. I me-erly chose not to. After our encounter *hic* in the…café…I nearly threw my…” Dlanor pauses. There is silence.

“Sorry?”

“It is nothi*hic*ng,” Dlanor waves you away as you enter an alleyway. “I can move from here…” Dlanor says. She seemed to have stopped hiccupping now, although her voice is still slurred. She floats up slightly and moves forward a few feet before she collapses. You neatly catch her before her head falls to the ground. “No, I don’t think so,” you say.

“Mr. Tepper…” Dlanor said. “I’ve been meaning to ask…how did you find me in that pub?”

You smirk. “That’s the same pub I went to after…”

“Ah,” Dlanor cuts in. “That is…a remarkable coincidence.”

You nod. “Indeed.”

“Mr. Tepper… I say this again but…I am truly, truly…”

You stop. “You disgust me, you know that?”

Dlanor’s eyes open wide. “m-me?” she manages to stammer out.

“Yes you, Ms. Knox. You killed that woman even though you knew it was wrong. You said it was ‘to protect the agency,’ but she swore that she wouldn’t tell! You said you were ‘just making sure,’ but does that really make you do things that you hate? You really didn’t hate killing that woman, did you? No, I think you wanted to kill her. You’re a monster, Dlanor. No wonder why some humans want to make a law against us.”

Dlanor doesn’t say anything, but you can see that her face is wrecked with pain. You briefly wonder if she’s just feigning it. “Mr. Tepper…” she says. “I felt the same way towards you.”

You push her into a nearby wall. “What?!” you yelled to her. Dlanor somehow managed to regain her neutral expression, even while being drunk. “I saw the reports Mr. Tepper… you said you shot her when she resisted after you broke her leg. But that made me wonder… you are quite literally faster than a bullet, Mr. Tepper. It would have been easy for you to dodge the lightning and simply knock her out. There was no need to kill. In fact, the only reason why Sylvia was able to charge up another volley of lightning was because you paused. You chose not to knock her out, as per standard safety procedure that you know so well, but you paused. You paused because you were taunting her. That was the only logical conclusion, Mr. Tepper. It was the reason why The Boss thought you would be willing to take a witness elimination job. However I guess you were right that I am a monster, Mr. Tepper. He did send me to make sure you did the job after all…”

She begins to chuckle, and then loses consciousness. You stand there staring at her unconscious body. Stand there for a very, very long time. You contemplate whether or not to just leave her lying there before you finally pick her slump body up.

She awakens as you enter your room. “Mr. Tepper…after all that I said, you still…”

“Just another day at the office,” you mutter. You lay her in the bed. She struggles to get off. “No, stay,” you tell her. You lie on the sofa.

“Thank you Mr. Tepper…”

“Don’t mention it.” You turn off the lights.

“When I was graduating High school…” Dlanor says, still slightly dazed from her drinking stupor. “I went out hiking in Canada. I stumbled across an illegal poaching operation. They took me by gun point and brought me to a ware house. I didn’t realize my powers then. They…” she pauses. You feel as if she’s hiding something. “They locked me in the basement. I remember it becoming very dark…and very cold.”

You simply nod in the dark.

“Mr. Tepper…”

“Hmm?”

“You will never forgive me for the woman, correct?”

Silence. “No,” you finally answer. “No, I won’t.”

“I am…actually glad to hear that,” Dlanor mutters. Then there is silence.

 

[SKILORD]

((OOC: Musical Accompaniment))

It is an amusing sight, to see a man’s starched collared short sleeved blue security henchman shirt turn all of the sudden to lead. Mostly for the reaction, the quick sudden tumble, teeter, fall. The look of pure shock on his face while he tries to shield his head from the tiles with his shoulder. The mumbles that come when you gag him.

Maintenance doors at the NYSE open with specially cut keys on his belt, Raul doesn’t even bother taking them, Alice gives him a confused look.

Raul simply marches confidently up to the door and begins jamming his kerchief into the deadbolt. A flash, a turn, a click later and the door swings open.

They had stopped at Raul’s apartment where he had burned an .mp3 CD with his voice masked. People wou hear it soon enough, he sets it in the desk next to the security cameras. Both Raul and Alice wear long bandanas over their mouths, like wild west bank robbers, the bandanas are red white and blue.

“I imagine you are wondering what happened here today,” Raul had begun the recording, “Why would anyone need your attention so badly?”

Raul finds a breaker box on the cameras and he points to it, “That seem like a good enough spot?” he asks.

Alice nods, sparks fly, all of the screens go blank. The security system is now down.

Elsewhere in the building traders are still shouting, Buy! Sell! Like the damned souls crying out for mercy, each one of them can be delivered from his personal hell, or so he tells himself, if he can just successfully negotiate one or two more transactions.

Then your wife won’t leave you. The kid won’t die of leukemia. Your three year old Lexus will not become the laughingstock of your social circles.

Buy! Sell!

Transforming greed into fear, transforming fear into respect, Raul marches down these halls with purpose in his eyes.

“When AIG threatens the stock market then we respect them as part of our society and provide them assistance, and so while you live your lives of casual luxury,” the CD went on, “all across this very nation people are burned out of their homes and workplaces with fire and bullets. In the Land of the Free, the strong persecute the weak, the haves exploit the have nots, and those who are born with more traditional genetics oppress the people we call ‘mutants.’”

On the trading floor they all still shout out for salvation.

“What are you doing here?” asks another guard, before his shirt is also turned to lead, the fall knocks his wind out and Raul checks for a pulse before moving on.

“But oppression comes with the price of resentment.”

The breaker box, Raul produces a flashlight out of his pocket and nods to Alice.

Alice opens up the breaker box and takes a deep breath.

“This is for you, Sylvia,” she says, the air around her crackling.

“We shut your Stock Exchange down today to ask you one simple question,” Raul had spoken into the microphone hours earlier.

And with a single huge flash all of the lights are suddenly out, all of the power is down, Alice teeters back and Raul catches her.

She seems unconscious, Raul frowns, dragging her out was not part of the plan. She is still small enough for him to pull up on his back like a fireman, flashlight in his mouth big heavy strides lumbering back down the hall.

Guards in lead shirts groan in confusion as he stomps past.

Down on the trading floor there is sheer panic, what the hell has happened, it’s all down, where’s my money? Where’s my salvation? Noone can Buy! Noone can Sell!

The .mp3 CD ends with the line, “What sort of enemies are you trying to make?”

Outside the back Raul’s car is still illegally parked in an alley, he is surprised at how quickly the whole thing had been managed, not even a ticket.

But the police are here all the sudden, and tickets are not on the menu. Raul notices that the lights are still off outside the building, on this block, he takes a sympathetic look at the unconscious girl slumped in his passenger’s seat, and awkwardly tried to reach around her to buckle her in without touching her in any way that Christ would deem inappropriate.

The sirens behind him, Raul hits the gas.

High speed chases are significantly easier to manage when the policemen’s front car’s tires keep inexplicably turning to glass and leaving shards and wrecked cruisers in the midst of the rest.

Raul loses them before he gets to the bridge, turning their tires into glass is an easy enough trick to maintain while driving, swerving through alleys and making sharp turns.

Yonkers is probably not safe enough now. Raul heads for the mountains.

Back in the Security office of the NYSE an .mp3 CD is simply labelled, 'From your friends at the Mutant Inspirational Liberation Front.'

 

[Toteone]

Oh, you expanded the update!

Jorgen Zimmerman

The attempts by Zimmerman’s rather shady mercenary company to reach out to Puntland thus far have had mixed results. The Puntland government has tentatively expressed interest in an arrangement. Shareholders are hesitant to invest in a Somali venture with Iraq and Afghanistan being more profitable centers. This may change however as the US government has increased scrutiny on the region due to recent threats against the US by Somali militants.

“Maria. That is a nice name.” says Zimmerman as he leafs through the folder given to him by his assistant. “I would like to meet this woman. She is very attractive. And wealthy.” He licks his lips

“Of course sir.”

Great stuff. It helps the rp experience that he deviates from my personality so much.
But I'm not quite sure what you mean by writing the last paragraph after the above. If its about my posts being a bit think-out-loud that's just coz of adhd. Also, its kinda disgusting, but I'm ok with him being a horny pervert. It helps the rp, but I hope that trait wasn't included because we've had a tiff or two.


Zimmerman will contact the Somaliland government too, just to let Puntland know there are other avenues of oppertunity. In general he will focus on Afghanistan and Iraq and treat Puntland/Somaliland as venture seeds. He looks over Maria's file and that of several others then sends off a few emails to female politicians of the Democratic party, asking them out for dinner on a public holiday.
Then he sets together a mutant strike team (five mutants and seventyfive mercenaries) with the best abilities for investigation and abduction to begin investigating the gold brick incident to discover whether it is of mutant origin.
Lastly, bringing only a couple of security guards with him he goes to visit the stripper club.

 

[DarthNader]

Just noticed a Mutant Rights group listed as a Anti-Mutant group. Might want to check that out.

 

[Seon]

Then he sets together a mutant strike team (five mutants and seventyfive mercenaries) with the best abilities for investigation and abduction to begin investigating the gold brick incident to discover whether it is of mutant origin.

This will be fun.

 

[Toteone]

Abduction is just a back-up plan. Then again, who am I kidding, a guy who can make gold. What can I offer him? (Except damping his abilities regularly.)

 

[DarthNader]

The small man adjusted his ushanka and stuck his bare hands back in his armpits. It was a cold day in Sheepshead Bay, and the men he waited for were late. If the two didn't arrive soon, he'd have to leave...or, at least, turn the heat on in his car. As soon as he finished the thought, a black Mercedes-Benz rolled up and parked beside his car. A man with brown hair, green eyes, and five o'clock shadow stepped out of the passenger's seat and a blond man with distinct facial features stepped out of the driver's seat. Both wore suits.

Karak, this is Lyosha...then man I've spoken to you about.

The small man glared back.

Fedya, why you no call me Aleksey? I am tired of this.

When you grow to size of full grown man, then I call you Aleksey, Lyosha.

Lyosha massaged his temples.

So, we do business or what?

Fedya laughed and beckoned his friend to the back of Lyosha's car. Lyosha opened the trunk, revealing the reason the three men met that day.

Mr. Lelyushenko, please, take your pick.

Bronislav looked upon the small weapons cache and reached towards it. He grabbed an UZI and began to inspect it.

Good choice. Decent range, good rate of fire, very good all-round gun. I even have a silencer for it.

He handed a long cylinder to Bronislav, who, in turn, screwed it onto the weapon.

Nine millimeter or forty-five caliber?

Nine mil, of course.

I'll take it.

Lyosha leaned into the trunk and produced a small pistol.

I've been told you were a go-to man for the KGB and FSB, yes?

Bronislav nodded.

Well, I had a feeling you would appreciate this.

Lyosha handed the pistol to Bronislav, who seemed quite amazed to see it.

It is the PSS, I am sure you know of it. Hell, I would bet you have killed several men with one similar to this. Also, I have plenty of the ammunition for it...all straight from friends back in Moscow.

Bronislav was wide-eyed. When he used a PSS, he was assured that one could never be found in the western world.

We have access to anything the Soviet Union had in its final days. Anything. If I could have fit a T-72 in this thing, I would have brought it. We have the connections.

Fedya, his arm draped over Bronislav's shoulders, nodded in agreement.

God bless this country and its second amendment, eh? We had better get back to Brighton Beach, Karak. I think Aleksey has other business to tend to.

Lyosha removed his ushanka, displaying his thick, red mat of hair, and made a short bow. Fedya and Bronislav headed back to the Mercedes. They pulled away, leaving Lyosha and his stockpile to themselves.

Now you can use more than that silly Smith and Wesson.

I must give credit to the Americans...the M&P is a decent pistol.

Bah! Nothing but military grade for you now Karak. You could get anything you wanted.

You know...I didn't see any knives. I could use a knife

Fedya chuckled.

I thought you'd never ask.

He reached into an inside jacket pocket and produced a sheathed knife, and tossed it on Bronislav's lap. Bronislav unsheathed it and ran his finger down its broad side. It's blade was about 9 inches, maybe shorter, with a serrated edge near the handle.

Its a Gerber LHR. Used by the American military. I thought you'd be able to used a good combat knife.

 

[SKILORD]

Abduction is just a back-up plan. Then again, who am I kidding, a guy who can make gold. What can I offer him? (Except damping his abilities regularly.)

Ahh, Raul was built from the ground up not to give a fu*k, to be hyperdangerous and unpredictable because he has nothing to gain except for libre.... pronto... for all mutants and opressed peoples. What Raul wants is political influence, to establish what he percieves as justice, Idealists like that are tricky people to manage in any event.

It's a (super)fun (seriously, I'm having a blast with this NES) character to write, but I do pity the fool who's gonna try to manipulate him, say, nearly to the extent that some more critical readings of my orders might say he's manipulated Alice.

 

[Seon]

say he's manipulated Alice.

Yup. I noticed. You know I am honor/story/guilt bound to hunt you down with the full force of the Department for all eternity now.

 

[SKILORD]

Yup. I noticed. You know I am honor/story/guilt bound to hunt you down with the full force of the Department for all eternity now.

I figured as much. Somebody had to stir the pot. (hell, I wrote a fight sequence for your character already, I am prepared)

 

[Seon]

I figured as much. Somebody had to stir the pot.

Don't worry, for a positive story, I shall take the liberty of killing/arresting 75 mercenaries and 5 mutants.

Besides, it's not as if I am going to catch you on the first try? . I plan on letting you go a couple of times. By the way, you better write a combat sequence for Dlanor too

 

[Toteone]

Buuuut think about all the top-end electronic components we can make with just a few weeks of his/your time!!

 

[thomas.berubeg]

OOC: sorry I haven't been able to write stories, yet... I will soon, I promise.

 

[Haseri]

OOC: As will I.

 

[SKILORD]

Alice wakes up surrounded by trees.

“It’s a rest stop,” Raul tells her, all of his hair is gone, buzzed down in the last fifteen minutes and still glistening with water from the bathroom, “I had to get us out of town.”

“You lost the cops?” she asks.

“I have my ways,” and he hands her a coffee.

“What happened to me?”

“Apparently it took a lot out of you.”

“Thanks,” she says.

Raul has a confused look on his face, “for what? Making you a fugitive?”

“No, I mean, you could have just left me behind to take the heat.”

“Well, Alice, in this revolution the means justify the ends. What sort of people are you hanging out with who would do that?”

She grumbles something about humans, but Raul can’t quite make it out and does not bother asking her to repeat it.

He hands her a calculator, Raul says, “I want you to turn it on.”

“Where are the batteries?”

Raul smiles, “That’s your part kid.”

“You want me to do parlor tricks for you? You have got some sort of crazy revolution going on here.”

“Humor me.”

Sparks, flash, the little LED screen blows out the front.

Raul laughs, Alice frowns sternly at him.

“This isn’t funny.”

“Not at all. What if you’re in danger and you need to stun someone, you hit them with the full haymaker every time and you’re going to kill people Alice. I don’t want that for you, I didn’t set out to make you a murderer and if I can prevent that then I will.”

She laughs, “WWJD?”

“Bloodshed is just sloppy and unnecessary and you will regret it.”

He hands her another calculator, she spends a minute focusing on it before blowing out the screen again.

“Look,” he tells her, “Don’t force it, just be calm about it. If I want to turn the 1 key bronze,” done, “or the division key silver,” done, “or turn what’s left of the screen to dust,” done, “but that control didn’t happen overnight, it required a lot of quiet time and a lot of practice.”

He has a duffel bag full of calculators, which he hands to her as he pulls out of the parking spot, she has a frown on her face, like she got in on this for the adventure and the high times, and not to explode calculators one screen at a time.

 

[Toteone]

(Last Night)
Joergen reclined in the VIP section, enjoying the sight of the musics and the sound of the girls and the strange sensation he got from being there. He could detect either a lot mutants or the thick traces of massive and regular mutant activity in the establishment, but it didn't bother him as it seemed of a stable if not peaceful nature. He was simply surprised he had missed this trove for so long. Finishing his second drink he declined the third one from the pretty cocktail girl, telling her he'd rather have some snacks to eat. He went on to chat jovially with the two girls assigned to him, even flirting a bit and considering what sort of gift to give them later on to show his appreciation for their excellent conversational ability, that and the effect this place was having on him which he hadn't bothered to suppress had even made him feel a bit at home, putting him in mind of when he used to watch all those late-night channels in Germany when he was young.
Some time passed that way, and after a couple of hours his bodyguards would slowly start to pay attention to the girls. If Maria had not yet shown herself he would politely dismiss them, promising a later date, and ask if he might see the hostess.


(Presently)
Zimmerman finishes reorganizing his standby team.

Of the five mutants one of them, an American teenage goth by the name of Jasper is a walking forensics laboratory and is usually on loan to the FBI. A woman named Lydia involved with the New Age scene when not working for the company is a mild clairvoyant. The third mutant, Joergen's usual bodyguard, Lars, has skin that turns into iron when subjected to damage and speed ten times that of a normal man. The fourth is Joergen's own son, Fabio, a more competent mindreader than himself but without the ability to detect lies or his other abilities. The fifth he had to call back from a mission in Afghanistan, her name is Erin and she has considerable ability to manipulate electricity and magnetism (think 'A Certain Scientific Railgun''s Misaka (an anime)) and can use her powers to most notably throw up electromagnetic shields and fire electromagnetic blasts.
Twentyfive of the eighty humans (Joergen upped it by five) in the strike team aquire and secure some office space in New York city and set up a command center and a strategic reserve of five agents. Another twentyfive of the remaining fiftyfive organize logistics between the command center and the agents in the field as well as conduct patrols and gather information and go to interview sources or join the field agents where the command center or the agents needs a face present, some of them also serve as a quick reaction force to reinforce in the field. The remaining thirty organize in teams of three handlers per mutant: two bodyguards and an offensive combat expert each (3x5), with the three human teams remaining comprised of one forensics team, a regular combat team and an anti-mutant combat team.
By three PM an agreement has hopefully been hashed out with the police investigators to investigate the original site and aquire a set of contacts and Jasper, Lydia and Lars were at the site with their escorts and the forensics team, while Fabio and Erin acting on any information available from the command center may have tracked down the first of the primary witnesses and begun questioning them, all but a couple of their escorts just out of sight, applying legitimate authority where they had it, faking it where they don't and adding liberal doses of pressure and bribery where applicable.

 

[Seon]

damn it Alice, you think as you turn off the radio. Dlanor was busy assessing the situation on her notepad.

"...A Latino, approximately 50-70 years old and a Caucasian woman, both wearing facial masks, infiltrated the building. The guards vests changed to a solid block of lead, incapaciating them. Shortly afterwards, all power to the entire street was lost due to a major power surge, not completely unlike those experienced by the commuters on the metro two weeks ago. The suspects, while escaping, caused the tires of the cars chasing them to turn to glass and eleuded capture. The chase caused multiple car crashes, and many are seriously injured although luckily none have been killed."

You blink. "You do that stuff on vacation?"

Dlanor blinks back. "Why are you in this car, going to Wall Street right now, Mr. Tepper? It is, after all, your vacation."

Good point, you think and step on the accelerator. The phone rings. You pick it up, yell "Already on it, boss," click it off, and shove it violently into the pocket.

..........................................................................................................................................

"WHAT?" Dlanor said. You wince. It's not easy to get Dlanor mad. Several windows to the building crack.

The cop gulped. "I am sorry, but you people aren't allowed on the premises!"

"And...what are THEY doing in there?" Dlanor pointed towards a group of man inside. They were not wearing any sort of uniforms.

You glance at them, and gasp as you recognize one of them. "Walk with me, Dlanor," you say as you suddenly pull her away.

"What?!" Dlanor yelled to you. "Mr. Tepper, are you insane?"

"I can tell bribery when I see it, unlike you, Dlanor," you tell her. "It's no use reasoning with them."

"Then what do we do?" Dlanor said as she enters the car. You enter it as well. "I already know who one of them is," you grunt.

Dlanor stares. "What?"

"Alice," you mutter. Avoid direct eye contact. Pray that you don't get killed here.

"Alice. Sylvia's sister. You told us..." Dlanor said. "You told us that she had nothing to do with this. This also nicely explains why Sylvia defected. Question is... why did you not arrest her afterwards?"

You glance at the mirror and find Dlanor's expression is...uncertain? That's a good sign.

"Sylvia said..." you speak slowly. "That it was an accident. She was then killed in a firefight with me, and I...chose not to arrest Alice. It was a mistake on my part, I should have expected this."

Dlanor nods understandably. "I have also made a similiar mistake in my younger days in the force." Great, she's younger than you and she's already lecturing you about her 'younger days.' "I once made an error of not arresting a girl who could manipulate fire. She grabbed a doorknob, heating it and giving the next person to touch it to get a 3rd degree burn. She had no idea that her powers even existed, so I let her go."

"What happened to her?" you ask.

"I found out that she was kidnapped by some gang to be used as a weapon of some sort. 3 weeks later, I found her buried in a shallow grave, picked clean by vultures. She also had rope marks on her neck," Dlanor said. "We must hurry, Mr. Tepper, and without evidence, we do not know where he could be."

You feel a chill. "Lemme think... the crime was committed against of all places, Wall Street. Pretty soon enough, their description is going to circulate all over the country."

"Right," Dlanor nodded. "So they would not be within any towns. It would be too dangerous. That leaves...miles after miles of wilderness in the forests?" Dlanor said.

"Better than what we have to deal with most of the time," you said uncertainly. "Let's go."

 

[Haseri]

Death to the fascists! Oh great, another kid whose read some Rand and now hates the government. Wait.

These weren't kids. The Nigerian was a mutant, and the fact that Stephen couldn't hear the woman's thoughts confirmed she was a mutant too. His head was clouded with thoughts of a communist utopia, where mutants were free. On some of the fringe thoughts, normal humans were enslaved.

Now the couple were staring at him. He quickly waved them through.

Stephen turned to his co-worker. "Cal, I'm going on my break, 'k?"

"Whatever, weirdo. Just make sure you get back quickly. Don't want a plane blowing up because you get bored."

Ignoring his handler - because that what he was, even if that wasn't his offical title - Stephen followed the couple, where they were standing outside, waiting for a cab. The man was thinking very loudly. His thoughts were all over the place, yet very clear. It was easy to find where they were staying, what their target was going to be, how they had found a supplier. He noted all down on a notepad.

When the cab arrived, it meant that they would soon be out of range, but Stephen had all the information he needed. He went back inside and up to the office, passing Cal, who was doing his impression of Stephen, contorting his face to make it look like he was reading someone's mind.

Reaching the office phone, he called his local contact. It'd been used many times before - catching murderers, rapists and diamond smugglers to say the least. Not that the mutant got any credit.

As he waited for the contact to get to the phone, Stephen pondered why he was doing this. Betraying fellow mutants to a government that hates them? But consider the alternative. If the plan was successful, it would be a lot harder for mutant rights activists to be heard over the people calling for their registration.