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Dirigible 13th of January, 2004 20:03

Issue #1: Who Dares Raise Arms Against the Omnipotent?
The Centinel Building, New York City
12:04 pm, January 13th 2010.

The room in which the five men sit is tidy, the sterility of the unusued, like a computer fresh out of the polystyrene packaging. An oval table of dark polished oak is precisely situated in the centre, with five stylishly comfortable chairs spaced around it. The silver blinds are half drawn, casting long slashes of shadow across the room. A multimedia screen takes up one wall, currently blank. Plastic pot plants unsuccessfully conspire in the corners to make the place seem less artificially oppressive. Empty cardboard boxes are stacked discretly along one side.

Outside the conference room, people can be seen buzzing back and forth through the corridors, carrying reports, moving furniture, complaining about the coffee. The refurbishment of the building is not yet complete, so a workman on a step ladder can be seen adjusting a ceiling light. The Centurion's numerous employees are busy setting up the operation here, collating intelligence and police files, disputing jurisdiction with the NYPD, Vigilance Commission and NSA, all the things that, suposedly, must be done behind the scense so that you can all do what you do.

Ah, yes. That's why you're here. Five virtual strangers, sitting uncomfortably for a good 45 minutes, all at the behest of an old, sick man you've only met once. The husk of a hero.

The door opens, and a professional looking woman stides briskly in. She reaches the head of the table and runs her gaze across you calmly, adjusting her spectacles and laying a bundle of files down on the table.

"Gentlemen... welcome."

OOC: Introduce your characters... tell us what they've been king time on doing... what they look like, dress (this is an 'informal'' meeting, so you were not asked to appear in costume.

Chronaltap 13th of January, 2004 20:44

The Mechanic

Robert looks up from the remnants of what appears to be a cell phone sitting on the table in front of him. A spool of solder and a micro-soldering iron sit nearby as he begins taking the parts and starting to put them back together. He waves his hands about trying (futilely) to clear the air of the smell.
The medium sized man starts and stops fiddling with the bits in his hands every few seconds... His unruly black hair and blue eyes move up from his work and fasten on the woman before him as a smile spreads across his face.
He wears a pair of carpenters pants, (with more pockets than most would consider standard into which the solder and iron both quickly disappear) and a grey sweater... looking more like a construction worker (albeit a kinda scrawny one) than a scientist or super-hero.

Kaos 14th of January, 2004 05:42

Ryan doesn't look up as the woman enters the room, he seems lost in thought as he stares at a silver locket that he is gently caressing in his hand.

The T-shirt and jeans that he is wearing is obviously purchased at a second hand store and although he is clean and has recently gotten his hair cut, this is a man who is one paycheck away from living on the streets.

As the business woman lays the bundle on the table he looks up and quickly glances around the room, like he is just realizing that there are other people here. He lowers his head a little and places a thin chain around his neck, he sits back up and carefully puts the locket, which is attached to the chain under his shirt.

Once that is done he turns his attention to the woman standing at the head of the table.

tKL 14th of January, 2004 15:48

The Seer

Brace quietly nods at the woman as she enters. He's holding a dog-eared copy of Cotton Mather's treatise on witchcraft but hasn't opened it since he got here. The pages are worn; the spine looks broken. Dressed for class, he looks rather formal compared to the others: neat khakis, pressed blue oxford with the sleeves rolled up, a tie, and well-maintained Doc Martens. A leather jacket is slung over the back of the chair. No bigger than your average man, he looks pretty healthy and fit for a college professor. His eyes have the discomfiting effect of seeming to look straight through a person.

GusPorterhouse 15th of January, 2004 05:58


'I bet the place is filled with 'professional' heroes...I am so out of my league,' he thinks to himself as he approaches the meeting room. 'Why they would even want a barely-nova one-trick pony like myself is beyond me.' He stops with his hand on the doorknob. 'I should just go back now, tell Master Fong that they made a mistake--BECAUSE THEY HAVE--and go on doing this the way I have been.'
'No, I promised that I'd at least give it a shot. So here goes nothing.'
He pushes the door open and steps inside, cutting a respectable figure in a black mock turtleneck and slacks. He's just over six feet tall, lean and athletic, with short and well-groomed brown hair and solid features. Clearly a little bit nervous, he takes a seat and waits patiently.

Having relaxed quite a bit in the last three-quarters of an hour, Rob starts a little when the door opens. His attention has been mostly focussed on a point somewhere off in space, sometimes watching the Mechanic with his cell-phone.

Cadrius 16th of January, 2004 12:27


He stops in the door, his head and arms brushing the frame, and eyes those already assembled; a geek, a gearhead, a nervous pretty boy, and some guy looking at a locket. Tracy is not impressed. Not a single one of them looks like they'd survive a good scrap. Still, he doesn't even know what the job is, let alone how much money they'll get. He wouldn't have even come at the behest of that old man if money wasn't to scarce. Most of the jobs were too risky, didn't pay enough, or both. He gives the men a reverse nod, inclining his head once, acknowledging their presence.

"This better pay well," he mutters, stepping into the room. He's dressed quite simply. Loose fitting, dark green cargo pants and a grey t-shirt featuring a stylized "W" across the front of it. Massive in stature, he looks to be well over six feet, and easily weighing over two hundred pounds. Muscles, while relaxed, still verge on bulging and the couch makes an audible creak when he sits down. He sports a goatee that matches his dark brown hair, and light grey eyes that watch the man pulling apart his cell phone. Eventually though, his grows bored and begins to drum his fingers on the edge of the couch, eyes drifting across the room. One hand disappears into a pocket and reappears with an apple, the other produces a small, ceramic pairing knife and he proceeds to cut and eat the fruit.

He raises an eyebrow as the woman enters, but does not stop cutting or eating the apple.

Dirigible 16th of January, 2004 20:24

The woman brushes her immaculate blond bun of hair and nods.

"My name is Alicia Stone. I am Mr. Kildaire's... the Centurion's personal representative to this organization. I'll be the one collating your intelligence briefings and providing you with up-to-the minute data, in addition to setting objectives.

"I had hoped to allow you time to fraternize and discover each other's abilities, to elarn to work as a team, but a situation has arrisen that requires immediate attention.

She presses a discreet button on the table top, and the wallscreen buzzes to flourescent life.

"In the last two weeks, an unfortunate new situation has faced New Yorks finest; someone has been providing extremly affordable Chinese-made DP-9 submachineguns through various arms dealers and even semi-legitimate shops.

Click. Crime scene photographs of dead men, and a few women, begin to flash up on the screen. Each bears a name and a badge number. A flickering cavalcade of contorted corpses scream down at you in greyscale.

"So far, fifty-two police officers have been killed." Her grey eyes harden for a moment, but then she supresses the flash of emotion and resume sher detatched, dispassionate report. "The DP-9 is fitted for teflon steelcore ammunition... armour piercing. I beleive the street name for them is 'Cop-Killers'. We can't even begin to calculate how many civilians have died in the crossfire, or as a direct result of the weapons' use.

"The motive for this flood of arms is not profit... the sheer number has driven down their value, and whoever is behind it is using threats of force to ensure the price stays low. Very low... an illegal arms market in lower Manhattan was broken up by undercover officers three days ago, and DP-9s were on sale for $25 apiece. Completely unsustainable." Pictures of a chaotic underground parking lot; drugs, guns and stolen goods pack the back of vans and makeshift stalls. Handcuffed figures are being dragged into police wagons.

"Six days ago, officer Giorgio Mavano was assigned to a stakeout at the docks. We had information that a Russian trawler comming in was carrying a shipment of DP-9s. The NYPD task force wanted enough photographic evidence to justify a raid, seizure or other investigation." She looks grim. "Mavano was found with his throat slit and no pictures of any kind of high-quantity unloading going on. CSI combed the area, and found the same: those crates, if they existed, were not unloaded at that point." The screen is showing maps and images of a dingy, bare dock somewhere in NY harbour.

Stone adjusts the multimedia centre again, and it starts to display lines of text; gists from assorted intelligence dossiers. "I'm sure it has occured to you the likliest meaning is that the weapons were never on board the trawler... the, ah, Gruczynski..." she says, consulting her notes. "However, we have verification from the SVR, InterPol, and the CIA. The consensus is that they were manufactured in Saongdong, near Beijing, transported across the border and through Siberia by unknown providence to Archangel, and from there loaded onto the Gruczynski.

"Now. the NYPD taskforce has identified a warehouse several blocks form the dock that they beleive held a large number of heavy crates for a short period recently. Documentation indicates that the warehouse has been hired again for tonight. We suspect that an arms deal may be going to occur, and authorisation has been granted for the Centinels to intervene. There will be SWAT back up, but it will be at least five minutes away. The taskforce doesn't want to risk either alerting the targets or putting officers in the firing line. On the buyers side, we have confirmation from undercover sources that Jerry O'Malley, head of the Hammers gang will be in attendance. There may be others."

A thin smile crosses her lips. "And finally, the question of payment. Arrangements have already been made to fund Mr. Scr... I'm sorry, 'the Seer's research for the next six months, should he agree to join us. 'Wreck', there is a case of unmarked, non-sequentially numbered small denomonation notes waiting for you at the front desk, on the same proviso. $10,000, I believe. The rest of you.." she surveys the Mechanic, Osprey and Bolt, "have less obvious... sources of motivation. The Centurion Foundation is prepared to reach a financial agreement with any of you, and will consider other, non-conventional forms of remuneration."

Ms Stone steps back from the table, watching you calmly and expectantly.

Chronaltap 17th of January, 2004 10:28

The Mechanic

Robert pulls out a tiny tablet from one of his many pockets and punches several buttons... Then begins to scroll through what appears to be the same documetation and crime scene photographs from the viewer.
"Sounds like some nasty pieces of work... wonder what their actual objective is..." he says, more to himself than to the others in the room as he looks over the details of any of the files.
"Have your people gone over the autopsy reports? I know having his throat slit is almost gaurenteed the cause of death... but was there any other information that they picked up? Type of weapon used? Any unusal residues... things like that?"
He continues to browse through the small window of information in his hand... eyes devouring details in case they may be useful later.

Okay... what'll I need? Flash bangs/ Smoke grenades will likely be handy, viewers too if I'll be working with those.... my pistols... OH!!! Maybe this is a chance to use some of the micro-C6 I've been working on... could come in handy. Now which did I have with me? Ah... I'm sure they've got most of the materials I need somewhere around here. I'll just cobble anything else I need. I can't wait to try some of my new toys...

A semi-demented gleam in his eye and a broad grin on his face suggest a mind furiously at work... on what though one can only guess.

Kaos 17th of January, 2004 12:50

"So much death, what a waste." Ryan thinks to himself as the photographs of the dead men and women go by.

"They might be covering one specific murder with the rest of them. Or using this as a diversion of some sort," he says to the man in the coveralls.

I don't want a lot of money, just give me a place to sleep and a little spending cash and I'm good to go.

Cadrius 17th of January, 2004 23:53


The man known as "Wreck" watches the slide show impassively. Death, at least this kind, doesn't look to phase him. He's seen too many bullet-ridden bodies in his life to be disturbed by these. A low, appreciative whistle escapes his lips when he hears of the price.

"That's a good deal," he says, and it is. He can remember a time, not long ago, when he would've been all over something like this. He can't imagine anyone who knew anything about guns wouldn't feel the same way. Yet he frowns and adds, "too good."

Once the mention of the warehouse and the gangs begins, his eyes become intense. There were some things he's smart about, and cracking skulls happens to be one of them. Yet he's derailed toward the end when Alicia speaks of payment. He mouths the words "small denomonation" and "Gruczynski," uncertain of their meaning, but perks right up once the ten thousand is mentioned. Tracy grins, with that sort of money, he could be set up for a month, maybe more if he was smart about it.

"So. . .you want us to go in, and what? Knock some heads together?"

tKL 18th of January, 2004 08:39

The Seer

Scribner watches the screen, his eyes focused on something else, but still taking in every image, every word from Ms. Stone. Six months funding? "I'm in. Is Mavano still in the morgue?"

Dirigible 18th of January, 2004 20:11


The Seer said: "I'm in. Is Mavano still in the morgue?"
Ms Stone's eyes take on a look of disgust for a moment as she glances at you, but them she turns her attention to a file folder. " City Central, block B, number 1437. You beleive you can... extract information from his remains?"


The Mechanic said: "Have your people gone over the autopsy reports? I know having his throat slit is almost gaurenteed the cause of death... but was there any other information that they picked up? Type of weapon used? Any unusal residues... things like that?"
Her expression is calmer as she looks to you. "The weapon was a non-serrated blade, longer than fifteen centimeters, surgically sharp and clean. The wound pattern indicates it was not held in a hand... it may have been a spring-loaded weapon attatched to the killer's wrist."


Wreck said: "So. . .you want us to go in, and what? Knock some heads together?"
"We would like you to make a controlled raid and attempt to apprehend Jerry O'Malley, any of his cohorts, other buyers, and the dealers behind this scheme. If other parahumans are involved lethal force may be required, but is of course detestable and preferably avoided. The flow of weapons must be stopped, though... regardless of cost or consequence." Her voice is touch by steel at the end.

GusPorterhouse 20th of January, 2004 03:03


At the mention of the police who have been killed, Rob's countenance darkens and a wrathful heat begins to take shape within him, fueled by the fundamental wrongness of those deaths. He barely hears Stone's description of the warehouse; all he can think about are the families left behind, the lives that have been shattered, the damage done to so many good souls, and for what? Some thug can't stop preying on the weak, and then decides he's above the law? Besides that, there's something deeper going on here, something that has already penetrated deep beyond the realm of normal gang warfare and organized crime. Something that could have long-reaching and terrible repercussions. "Somebody is going to have to put an end to this," he says to himself.
Listening to the others and the deals they've made, he thinks: "Guess that shows me where I rank in here: Dead Last. Alright, fine. I'll do this because...well, because I just couldn't NOT do it." Aloud, he says: "I'm in. Especially if it means there's a shot at decapitating the Hammers."

tKL 21st of January, 2004 09:55

The Seer

Originally posted by Dirigible
Ms Stone's eyes take on a look of disgust for a moment as she glances at you, but them she turns her attention to a file folder. " City Central, block B, number 1437. You beleive you can... extract information from his remains?"[/b]
"Glad you had my file?" Brace grins. "Yes, that's what I'm hoping, although this will be a new way to do research for me. Unless you consider books to be dead trees."

Cadrius 22nd of January, 2004 05:33


" don't make a lot of noise. Got it," he says, linking his fingers and pressing his hands away from his body, causing them to crack. He grins.

"So, do we have a layout of this here building? Like to find a good way to come in, besides the front door."

As if an afterthought he asks, "What kinda security they running?"

GusPorterhouse 22nd of January, 2004 06:36


"If there's a back way in, I'll find it.
"He does bring up a good point, though: do we have any 'tactical' information on this warehouse and the opposition, or should I go collect some?"

Kaos 22nd of January, 2004 06:51

"I for one would like to know what your abilities are before I go and stick my neck out, and since I brought it up I might as well go first." He says as he sits up straighter.

"My name is Ryan, some people know me as Bolt. Speed is my thing, there isn't anything that I have come across that I can't outrun. At full speed I can run across water and up walls, I also pack a heck of a punch, at least its what I have been told."

GusPorterhouse 22nd of January, 2004 08:23


"Alright, I'll go next." He stands.
"My name is Rob, I've been calling myself Osprey. I guess I'm sort of the shadowy-cloaked-figure-in-the-night kind of guy. I've been mostly operating on my own, so this will be my first time working with a team. I'm not as strong, fast, or smart as some of you (as he says this he indicates Wreck, Bolt, and the Mechanic), but I'm handy in a fight and I'm good at sneaking around. Also, I can fly. Sort of. Not like what you're probably thinking; more like Li Mu Bai than Superman."

Dirigible 22nd of January, 2004 20:37

Ms Stone nods calmly at Osprey's acceptance.

"The warehouse is owned by Mercer Shipping Intl., and is primarily used for short-term storage straight off the freighter. A company called Exsyn has rented it for two days, ending tonight at midnight. There's no information available on this 'Exsyn corporation'; it's new, and appears to be a shell or dummy corporation set up for exactly this purpose.

"The warehouse itself is unremarkable; two storeys tall but with only one level, small onsite offices, loading on poth the pier and street sides." At a touch of the keyboard built into the table, a map and aerial photgraphs flash up on screen. The building is, in fact, unremarkable; shaped like a plus sign or cross the arms very thick and stubby. Red brick, with heavy glass skylights on the roof.

"If you're looking for points of ingress, I can suggest the following: the main gate, one of the loading docks, the skylights, the windows, or the electrical service tunnels that run under the site. Electronic security should be minimal, but expect a large number of guards and gang soldiers."

As you begin to introduce yourselves, she gathers her files and steps towards the door. "Mr... Seer, when you're done, I'll be outside with your clearance to access the morgue." With that, she steps smoothly out the door, leaving it to glide shut on articulated hydraulics.

Cadrius 23rd of January, 2004 06:09


"Or we could just go through a wall," Wreck says, grinning, but the lack of support causes it to fade quickly. He sighs, the employer didn't want a disturbance, and he won't make one unless someone gives him a reason to. Folding his arms over his chest he hopes that he gets one. He watches the form of Ms. Stone leave before turning his eyes to the others, not realizing the introduction has made their way to him.

He sits there for a moment, arms still crossed over his chest, and stares back at the others.

"I'm Wreck," he says, and falls quiet for a moment before catching the expectant looks, "I'll take care of any skull cracking that needs to be done. Oh yeah, I can fly pretty quick when I need to."

Chronaltap 23rd of January, 2004 07:41

The Mechanic
"Huh?" says Robert... who has been drawing and working furiously on the tiny PDA device he's been looking at for the past few minutes...
Glancing around the room he realizes that most of the folks in it are looking directly at him...
"Oh.... um... yeah..." he says, setting the pad on the table but still inputting commands with his free hand...
"I'm Robert.... been the Mechanic for awhile now... helped out a couple foks with the neo-saurian hatchling problems last year... you probably didn't hear about it.
I build stuff and take it apart. Thats about it. Oh... and I've usually got a toy or six that'll either put somebody in a world of hurt or solve whatever problem I'm facing. Things just kinda work for me like that."

With that he redirects his attention to the schematic tthat he's drawing on the small screen on the table, finally letting his brain catch up with his intuition on his designs.

tKL 25th of January, 2004 06:37

The Seer
"I'll be right with you, Ms. Stone. Thank you." Brace Scribner nods at her and then turns to the others. "Pleased to meet all of you. I'm Dr. Scribner, but you all can call me Brace. I guess my abilities aren't as flashy as most of yours, but they've been useful to me. Basically, I'm a psychometric postcog--what I mean is, when I touch things, I can see where they've been and what they've been used for and who has used them...and sometimes I can even see where they're going and that sort of thing, although I can't control this at all, which makes it damn near useless most of the time. I work as a professor over at the University; you can imagine how useful my abilities are in my research. Anyhow, I'm off to the morgue. I've got some 'questions' to ask Mavano." Scribner grins at the group and heads out to meet Ms. Stone.

Dirigible 25th of January, 2004 09:49

New York City Central Morgue Block B
12:38 pm, January 13th 2010.

The sterile green tiles click under Stone's heels as she leads you down the morgue corridor. Gleaming silver-steel panes on the walls give cold testament to the dead temporarily interred within.

The custodian appears to be expecting you; a gaunt, sad-faced older man he nods a wordless, respectful greeting to you both before unlatching one of the doors. The tray within creaks out, revealing a short, swarthy, heavy set man palid and rigid in death. Dried blood is crusted odourlessly around the gaping slash in his throat.

The custodian bends down to pick up a heavy leather tote bag from the floor. Opening it onto a adjacent wheeled table, he tips out several items carefully folded and sealed in airtight ziplock bags. Jeans, a shirt and jacket, slightly bloodstained in one. A watch, wallet and set of keys in another. Shoes. A bag of Chinese takeways, for some reason.

Item by item, you start to go through them...

... and when you're done you leap back, pale and shaking, hand clasped to your own throat.

(check your private messages, tickle...)

Kaos 25th of January, 2004 11:07

Re: The Seer

Originally posted by tKL
I've got some 'questions' to ask Mavano." Scribner grins at the group and heads out to meet Ms. Stone.
Ryan trys and fails to supress a shudder as the man leaves with Ms. Stone. "Ok, I don't know about you guys, but that's just creepy."

Ryan then returns his attention to the display of the warehouse. "Anyone got any suggestions on how we are going to do this? We should get some communicators, so we can at least keep in contact with one another." He says the last part more to Robert than anyone else in the room.

tKL 26th of January, 2004 03:29

The Seer

"Well. That suggests more questions than it really answers. Thank you." Brace politely nods at the custodian and starts to head back to the group. On the way back, Scribner explains his visions to Ms. Stone, if she wants to hear them. If not, he remains quiet on the way back to the group.

When he finally reaches the group, he waits for a lull in their conversations and tells them what he saw. "Mavano was killed by a small, four-legged robot. The robot belonged to a man wearing black leather gloves, but Mavano was mostly dead before the man arrived on the scene, so all I saw was his hands. I suppose that the gloved figure could be a woman, too. Hell, it could be a robot. Hard to say."

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