Selina tries to slowly get her bearings and head in the general direction of a police station, fire house, any emergency service really. Even a school would be nice. Breaking in may be bad but... she was desperate. Not desperate enough to go knock on random people's doors while naked and likely looking like some kind of drug addict...
You wander off into the distance, walking barefoot on the cold street, shivering as you try to find shelter, cursing the cruel assumption that anyone living in the suburbs has a car, or at least some way to get someone to drive them places. They're not at all built with the assumption of naked teenagers wandering the streets at night, it seems. The place gets so dark, you'd think they were trying to avoid an air raid. You walk for the better part of half an hour, the identical rows of houses not showing any signs of abatement. You start to get a bad feeling, a consuming unease gnawing at you as you walk.
And then, quite suddenly, you become aware of a car driving your way, coming in from an intersection. You are a little lost in thought and distracted, and by the time you've seen it, you've already been bathed in its headlights. Evidently, the driver's seen you as well, as the car slows down, and then stops a short distance away. The door opens, and out steps a man you don't really recognize - in his thirties, probably, on the handsome side, with blond hair and narrow shoulders. He looks at you quizzically, probably wondering what chain of events might have led a girl like you to walk around naked at night.
"Um, miss? Do you need help?" he asks. There's something welling up in the pit of your stomach, you feel. A mixture of mild nausea and fear.
Reconsidering his position Steven decides testing his powers can wait and begins fleeing from the neighbourhood removing his disguise once hes clear.
Once clear he makes his way home and turns on the news to try and find crime that way.
You cheese it most verily, and then remove your highly improvised disguise. You hope you're in the clear, and the trek home provides little evidence to the contrary. And your trek home was reasonably long - after all, you would theoretically be an adherent to the principle of not blowing shit up where you eat.
As a side note, you wonder if there's any way to use your powers that doesn't immediately alert people in a 500-meter radius that trouble is most assuredly happening.
Regardless, you reach home at some point, and turn on the news, but the terrible thing is, the only real news of interest relate to one of two things - the mysterious return of a girl that was kidnapped a couple of days ago, and the fact that a warehouse filled with criminal elements was blown up by these very same criminal elements.
Hm. Maybe there's no need for heroes around here. After all, the criminals are doing such a wonderful job of blowing each other up, and, from the looks of it, doing so much more cleanly and socially acceptably than you seem capable of.
Jake keeps the Shatner mask in mind as a fallback but browses the more expensive masks looking for sturdy ones that hopefully won't break on his face.
They apparently make those white Shatner masks out of cast iron as well. Weird-ass internet stores. There's also something labeled as a "death mask" on one of the handicrafts pages you visit. A crazy mortician guy from up north makes them, seems like. Apparently made from molds taken from the faces of real dead people, these are made of some kind of weird leather, with silver metal studs added to give an Aboriginal-inspired look. Apparently a wig made of authentic human hair, taken from entirely willing donors, the disclaimer says, comes with the purchase, available in a variety of styles. Moderately costly, and looks creepy as hell. And the guy has a catalog of these things, seems like, each made from a different person's face mold. "Perfect for Halloween, costume parties and rituals", the description says. There's masks of people both young and old, of both genders. They don't appear to be selling too well, though. Probably that's the reason why they're not more expensive, in addition to the obvious way the guy who makes these loves his craft.
Distracted by this, you spend less time on this handicraft site than you would have hoped. But you're pretty sure there's a lot more masks in here - the craftspeople seem to love making those for some reason.
Kyle walks in and goes up to his room as nothing is wrong.
Kyle runs out of his room and starts running around the house looking for his dogs, and his family. Wheb that fails he asks around the neighborhood.
Well, your parents sort of live in an apartment a floor above yours. You've got a bit of an arrangement there, since these shitty apartments are a bit too small to comfortably host a family of four plus dogs - so you got the studio apartment, the previous occupant of which was apparently murdered most gruesomely (hence the immense cheapness of the place, though your parents chose to omit the detail of the murder happening there). You knock on their door, and your mother opens up, saying hello a bit nonchalantly.
You are pretty worried that your dogs seem to be missing, though.
Alex would pick up the remote and click the button to move through the channels. He would search for a news channel, to see if anything was happening, or if his story was on the news.
Ooh! You are on the news! Well, not you, but the explosion, more like. They seem to be accentuating the way Tinker tech was obviously involved than any other details, although they do mention Mrs. Black by name in the report, complete with a picture. You're glad you don't know whether that's an unethical thing to do or not, because you certainly love to see crazy terrorists be exposed to the world. Particularly psychos like her.
Other than that, some girl who apparently got kidnapped a few days ago has turned up in her neighborhood, barely responsive and lacking in any basic motor skills. Fishy business is suspected.
The rest, though, is national or world news. Some villain going on a rampage in New York before getting his ass handed to him, that kind of thing, aftermath of the latest Endbringer attack off someplace in Africa, and other stuff. Nothing you particularly care about.
"What my daughter is trying to say, is that she would like to assist the efforts of the PRT, with her new powers... As a hero." her father stated. "I am personally wondering if you have any non-wards programs for young parahumans like her."
"Actually, Dad... Um I'm not sure if the wards is such a bad idea after all."
Mr Black looks at the officer expectantly.
((Pm sent))
"Well, I guess I can phone up the New York Wards, see if they've got an opening. There's no real facilities for Wards around here, sorry. We've got one office floor as it is. We haven't even got any kind of Protectorate presence around here. I can make a few calls, though, see what comes up and so on, if you really want it."
He looks a bit doubtful.
"You might want to think carefully, though, sir. Your daughter's a bit young, and this is very dangerous work. And the same applies to you, miss. While it would probably be good to have you on the right side when the whole crimefighting or impending crisis business comes up, this isn't a call you should make in one night, or even in a week. I'd advise you to think about it some more. Maybe spend a few weeks, let your emotions run their course, and see if you still want the same thing after that. I personally wouldn't want you to do anything you would dearly regret later."
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Topic: Worm: Edwardstown (Read 135771 times)