TNO - Season 1: All Good Things

The evening of the attack on Jason and Michael ended with everyone sharing enough information so they could get in touch with each other as needed. Father Charles felt it unsafe for Lanie to remain with him at the Cathedral now that so much seemed to be unfolding. The poor girl was on the edge most of the time, and the fear of her slipping was too great. Evan agreed to keep an eye on her from time to time, and the priest left to take her to a cousin of his in St. Francisville. He knew she would be safe there.

The quiet of the next few days seemed odd in comparison to the events that had unfolded in the previous week. Paul had returned to work and the normalcy of it proved to be everything it had always been. Normal. He continued to question what it was that he wanted from this change that had been discovered. Did he want the same? What should he tell his wife? Could it be the same? Only Paul could decide that.

For now, he needed some sort of stability and so he smothered himself in work, trying to push all the questions and responsibility away for now. Back at EcoTech, he sat behind his desk, resolving yet another server hard disk problem (the third that week), and trying not to think about his powers.

But it was no good. He had superpowers - awesome, fantastic abilities - and that little fact wasn't going to go away. Ever since he'd been a kid and read comic books, he'd dreamed of having powers. Admittedly, between the ages of 6 and, well, 26, he'd imagined himself with powers of invisibility, flight, superspeed or something useful like that. But energy blasting was still a power even if it was a little too destructive to use in his every day routine.

And, just like that Director guy on the CAST website had said, he needed to do something with his abilities. In the comic books, when someone found out they had superpowers they either went out and fought crime or tried to take over the world. And Paul knew he wasn't the evil megalomaniac type.

Whilst replacing the hard disk, a idea came to Paul. He knew now what he was going to do. That very night. He'd have to be a little more careful about hiding his identity but that he could fix. Not by wearing a skin-tight costume. Hell no! But he had a few ideas.

Tonight, Feedback would patrol the streets of New Orleans.

(Continued in TNO: Childhood Dream)

The Next Day…

Paul was late. After getting back late last night, he'd overslept and was going to be late for work. Rushing his breakfast of a bit of toast, Paul was now trying to drink his coffee whilst clambering into the jacket of his suit.

“You were back very late last night” Alison commented, sipping her own mug of steaming black coffee.

“Yeah” Paul mumbled, whilst trying to find his wallet. “Like I said, I was at the cinema with Greg.” Then added under his breath, “Where the hell is it?”

“Greg? Who’s he?” Alison asked, her tone cold.

“Huh? Oh, ya know. Greg. The new Sys Admin. Works down the corridor to me” Paul explained, still failing to find his wallet. I fucking put it down here somewhere, he thought to himself. Why can I never find anything when I’m late?.

“It’s just that you’ve never mentioned him before” Alison noted. “Actually, you never mention anyone at work. So what did you see?”

“Erm… aha!” Paul held his wallet up in the air – there you are - and then thrust it into his jacket pocket. He turned to look at Alison.

“Er…we saw that new Batman movie, Batman Begins. It was good. Didn’t think you’d want to see it.” God, I’m going to be late. I don’t have time for this.

Alison’s eyes narrowed.

“I didn’t. It’s just that it seemed a little… sudden, you going out. You don’t often go out. And you came back all sort of sweaty and out of breath”

Shit, thought Paul. She’s suspicious. Maybe she already knows? God, I really should tell her. Let her know what it’s all about, that I have superpowers and all that. She’s my wife, for god’s sake. Yeah, I’ll tell her everything.

Paul never kept anything from his wife.

“And also there was a w…” began Alison before Paul interrupted her.

“Look, Al. I’m late”, Paul said, looking at his watch and quickly getting his coat on. “But I promise I’ll explain everything later. When I get back from work. Honest”.

He’d tell her everything later, Paul decided. Right now though, he didn’t have the time.

“But I’ve got to go and me explaining will take too long. But later, yeah?” Paul said, heading towards the door.

“Explain? But Paul…” Alison began.

“See you later. Love you!” Paul called back and rushed off, out of the front door.

***

Jason found a job as a doorman at The Absinthe House on Bourbon Street. It would allow him to at least pay his bills until he figured out what to do next. He also knew that being in the French Quarter would put him in closer proximity to whatever it was that was made this place seem to be the center of superhuman activities.

Michael paid particularly close attention to all the e-med calls in District 1. He made sure he knew how to get in touch with everyone, and that everyone could get in touch with him. No call, however, came in that ever seemed like it was linked to the attempted mugging of the voodoo thugs. Still, he waited.

Mike also spent time trying to trigger his own ability. In the quiet of his own home of course. He was no vigilante and preferred not to draw attention to himself; so late at night, with all the lights off, he'd practice passing his hand through his coffee table or increasing his density in the bathtub. It took some patience, but he was pretty sure he could do it on command now.

Michael began to take note of a couple calls that had been coming in at night. There were some odd calls from the Magazine St. area where someone had reported a crime in progress. When the police arrived, however, all they found were the would be attackers. And there in no shape to hurt anyone. Someone had gotten to them first. The criminals refused to offer details as to what happened, but Michael had a hunch. He shifted his night patrol shift with Eddy who was more than happy to trade districts with him for a little while.

* * * * *

Terry continued to update and monitor the C.A.S.T. site for anything that was pertinent. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he found a link between a member of the site and the guy he linked with outside the sushi restaurant on Magazine. He made sure to follow any more postings by Feedback. Lynne continued to bury herself in her work as the new Assistant DA, and she was spending more and more time with Tyler Banks. Empire had not tried to contact Terry since their last chat, and he began to wonder if something had happened to Empire.

Of course Terry had been having enough of his own problems with adjusting to life in New Orleans. It had taken him a while to find the otaku community in New Orleans and like many other groups it was had been thrown into chaos by the recent events in New Orleans. There were several people who were delusional enough to believe that they had powers like those of their favorite characters, not one of them that Terry had ever met proved to have better than some combat training and/or some athletic ability.

However, he was able to join the staff of the only major Anime/Manga convention in the area, Mechacon, in helping to run Cosplay events and some of his old friends from California said they would make the trip.

School was a mixed bag, Terry had always been an excellent student and the course of study at his new school was less advanced than it had been when he lived in California. Of course the down side was the increased number of boys who frequently suggested that he was a "Queer", "Fag", "Ladyboy" or "Trannie". Many did so behind his back, too many did so to his face. For the most part he was able to avoid a number of fights by simply use of his other talents. However, there were times when only use of his mental powers would keep him out of trouble.

Raul Agosto Justiniano had arrived in New Orleans just after the Solstice event. His uncle welcomed him into his car repair shop. Everything seemed right for him, and he had almost completely forgotten the event that had got him fired. Almost.

It all came back to him the day the package arrived. A plain brown wrapped package was on the doorstep of his shotgun** that he rented on Navarre in the area called Lakeview South. Raul found the package there when he got home from work on Friday, July 8th, 2005. He sat down and opened the package. Inside was a note and an odd looking device. It was similar to a Palm III, but it wasn’t. He opened the note.

Raul, you don’t know me, but that will change. Don’t be alarmed. I know about the reason you were fired from your last job. I know what really happened. There are others like you in this city, and you must find. This device you hold is one of only a few. It can do many things. It is a private channel communicator as well as a single source bio-tracker. It allows anyone else with one of this that is synch’d to see if you are hurt and to find you. One of the others like you, a young man who calls himself Director, has more of these. You must find him and the others soon.

The note then went on to list the names and addresses of Terry, Paul, Jason, and Michael. It also mentioned the C.A.S.T. website and told Raul how to find it if he felt so inclined. Raul put the note down and turned the device over and over in his hands as he considered what this meant and what to do.

Raul scratched his head absently as he studied this new toy. He was somewhat lackadaisical when it came to technology, figuring he had enough things to sink his money into, such as keeping his truck working and other trivialities like food and housing. It certainly looked too expensive for this to be somebody's idea of a prank.

He grabbed a beer from the ancient refrigerator and plunked himself down on the surprisingly comfortable easy chair he'd rescued from someone's dumpster drop-off. He re-read the note and examined the buttons and controls on the "communicator." Once he was comfortable with its operation, he took a sip from the bottle and pressed the buttons to call one of the numbers at random, the one marked for Terry.

Terry sat in the atrium of the uptown house. He had been leaning back in the high-back rattan chair when he heard the subtle, rhythmic beep. He reached down into the backpack he carried and withdrew one the devices he had picked up at the station after following the instructions from his on-line contact who called himself Empire. Terry looked at the display and pressed the button to activate the screening of incoming communication requests. Whoever it was, he thought, they have one of these devices and are trying to direct connect with me via a secure channel. Terry needed to decide whether to answer the request or not.

After a moment, Terry decided to answer. "Hello. If you are not Empire than you can call me The Director. Please state the nature of your call." he answered with a bit of dry humor.

Raul chuckled. "Oh-kay," he replied. "Yeah, somebody dropped this phone at my house, I guess this Empire guy you mentioned, with a note saying I need to get in touch with you guys. If this makes any sense to you, what do we do next?" He thought better than to reveal he already knew the kid's name (at least it sounded like a kid).

"If you are in a secure location, next you tell me more about yourself and why Empire gave one of these communicators." Terry said said as he went fully into Director mode.

Raul glanced around at the small room he was occupying. "Yeah, sure," he said amiably. "The note that came with the phone mentioned something that happened to me about a month ago, so I guess I'll start with that."

He settled back in his chair and began his tale.

"I fix cars for a living. I was working at this shop in Virginia, mom 'n' pop outfit, no biggie. The boss had a pal who was driving a '74 Olds Cutlass. Sweet ride, old-fashioned Detroit steel, 350 V8 with no catalytic converter.

"Anyway, the car needed muffler work and the boss stuck me with the job. It was a bitch, too. Instead of using the lift, I just put the car up on jacks. Yeah, stupid, but I was in a hurry, y'know?

"So there I was, lying under the damn car trying to cut the pipe when, wouldn't you know it, the car slips the jacks and comes crashing down. Normally, that would have been a nasty trip to the hospital; when half a ton of steel decides to land on your head, it ain't a pretty sight.

"The thing was, not only did I not get hurt, but I ended up pushing the car offa me and getting up. Thankfully, it was just me in the shop, so no one saw me do it. I caught hell for it the next day, though, 'cause the car got banged up. I mean I literally tossed it over. Body work was at least two grand."

Raul swallowed some beer to keep his throat wet and continued, "So, the next few days, I learn that I'm suddenly way stronger and tougher than a man has a right to be, know what I mean? I ended up busting some things trying to get a handle on it and, to make a long story short, I got fired.

"Well, I got in touch with an uncle who lives here and runs a repair shop. He was willing to take me on. I packed up my stuff and drove down and... well, here I am."

Picking up the note, Raul wraps it up. "The note says you guys are in the same boat. y'know, juiced up in some way too. It says I should hook up with y'all. Don't know what you're up to, but I'm willing to check it out."

"I see. Well so far we have made contact mostly through my website and forums. As I said before, I am The Director and my website for those of a more heroic mindset is called Citizens Against Superviillan Terror or C.A.S.T. So far we have been discussing what abilities do exist and how to use them to best benefit the world around us. A few of us, have perused active crime-fighting at this point, others have felt a need to gain more control over their abilities before going that rout. I have been engaged in an effort to encourage everyone who thinks like we do even those without powers, and to provide what support I can for those who do.

You are welcome to join my web page and to contribute your story to our group. We don't have a lot of direction at the moment, right now its more about understanding ourselves and what we can do. I think you'll like Feedback, he's our current active member and has already taken a bite our of crime." he concluded, adding the internet address to the CAST site.

Raul scratched his head and replied, "Okay, sure. I'm not exactly connected, but I guess I'll find a library somewhere and hook up there.

"One thing, though. What's the deal with this Empire guy? Do you, like, work for him or something? I mean, a phone like this don't come from the back of a truck, if you know what I mean."

"Empire is a mystery presenting himself as a benefactor. I don't work for him any more than you do. But so far, he seems to be on the side of the angels, to use an expression. He has provided some additional resources that will come in useful when the time comes for CAST to become more active."

"Huh," Raul mused. "Hey, wait. Did you say one of you guys is actually out fighting crime? Seriously? Is that what you mean by being 'more active'?"

He couldn't help feeling a bit excited. So far, this CAST thing sounded like some sort of high school fan club (well, except for the high-tech phone). But actually doing something positive with his powers, now that would be the ticket.

"If you will recall my words of a few moments ago" reminded Director, "I did say that we do have an active CAST member who goes by the name of Feedback. i also used a rather common idiom to explain in a few words that yes, he does fight crime." "it is truly amazing that some people have to have everything spelled out for them even when you give them the simple and most pedestrian of expressions to convey your point." Terry thought.

Raul couldn't help grinning at the implied huffiness in Director's voice, glad his expression didn't communicate across the phone and potentially offend the other.

"So you did," he replied amiably. "Anyways, do you guys ever meet up face-to-face, or will we just be pen-pals?"

"Well once you join the CAST, I'm sure that you can arrange to meet with some of the others if they are willing. Most of us have civilian lives we are trying to protect so while clique, the Secret Identity idiom is currently the standard operating procedure. I believe that some of the others have met face to face but so far they have been scarce in reporting their movements. I suspect for the sake of privacy." The Director added.

"Oh-kay," Raul said hesitantly. He looked again at the note that had been included with the phone containing a list of names and addresses.

He considered the contrast between Director's statement and what he held in his hand. He wondered whether this was some sort of test. Would he use this knowledge to gain an advantage? Did he really want to?

Cautiously, Raul asked, "Has Empire by any chance mentioned his opinion on this secret identity thing?"

The Director answered, "Well given that she or he has not revealed their real world name to me or to anyone else on the CAST forums as far as I know, I would presume they are in favor of the use of them. At the very least, if not for others, at least for themselves. That alone leads me to believe that the continued use of secret identities is a good idea. Of course, your mileage may vary."

Raul sighed and and put the beer bottle down long enough to rub his eyes, hoping he wasn't about to screw things up before they even got started.

His voice entirely serious, he informed Director, "Look, I don't know what the deal is, but I'm not the kind of guy who plays mind games. The reason I asked is because the note Empire left me includes a list of names and addresses, including yours, Terry. And just to makes things even, my name is Raul Justiniano. Like I said, I just moved into town a few weeks ago, but if you want my address, I can give it to you."

"What in the name of Gundam did Empire think he was doing?And how much does he/she know about us? S--t! S--t! S--t! Okay, Hideaki get yourself back under control. We are going to have to manage this Raul guy, its not going to be easy but it needs to be done." Terry thought.

"There are no games of any kind being played here, Mr. Justiniano. I prefer being called Director in all conversations via mechanical media. As with many other people, the health and welfare of those close to me could be in jeopardy if my identity were to become well known by opposing forces. However, I am curious about the list that Empire has given you. Perhaps there is a method to their madness. You can either give me the list of names and contact information now, or you can contact me personally and we may proceed from there. The ball is in your court, Senor luchador." the Director said.

Despite catching the strain in Terry's voice over the phone, Raul couldn't help chuckling at the moniker he'd used. The guy couldn't know Raul had earned trophies in his high school's wrestling team.

"What I'm thinking is that Empire wants us to get over any 'trust issues' as soon as possible." The quotes were audible in his voice. "Personally, I kinda agree. Whatever this is about, it sounds serious enough to talk about face-to-face.

"So, like I said, I'm new in town. Know any good places for us to sit and chat?"

"Someone famous once said 'Trust has to be earned.' You may have much information about Terry but until you are well proven, you only get to meet with The Director." the Director's voice was steely and uncompromising.. "Nonetheless, bring yourself and your wallet to the Garden District, Magazine Street at 4 PM. There's a place that serves wonderful Espresso and has Paninis that are quite filling, along with many flavors of an almost divine Gelato. You are buying of course."

This time, Raul didn't bother to hide the chuckle. "That's cool, ese. I'll let you know if I have problems making it there in time. Some of us have to work for a living, y'know? Speaking of which, I hope them 'pah-nee-nees' don't cost much more than a regular sandwich 'cause my wallet's about as deep as Paris Hilton's personality, know what I mean?"

The Director replied "I find it interesting that you believe that the public personality of Ms. Hilton is her only one. Nonetheless, I will try to keep my end of the meal under twenty American dollars out of respect for your abject poverty. And since 4 is disagreeable with your 'working man' schedule I guess it wall have to be an early dinner at 5. is that more problem free?"

"Thanks for understanding," answered Raul, unperturbed. "Sounds like a plan. Considering we haven't laid eyes before, any suggestions how we'll pick each other out of a crowd? A secret password? A white carnation on the lapel?" he asked playfully.

"I was wondering if you were going to ask. I will have already arrived by 4:45 so I expect when you arrive at 5, I should be easy for you to find. Look for the only male asian in the room with white hair." remarked The Director wryly.

"All right, then. I suppose that should narrow things down around here," Raul agreed lightly. "I'll make it easy for you too. I'll be coming straight from work so look for a guy wearing a blue work shirt with a name tag saying 'Raul'."

With a slight grunt from the effort of standing up from the easy chair, he wrapped the conversation up. "So tomorrow, five, at this gelato place. Be seeing ya."

GM OOC:, That place didn't open till 2007, so I am editing it out with a non-specfic meeting place.

Raul walked in and saw the simply furnished cafe laid out before him. Classic ceiling fans hung down on six foot poles from fourteen foot ceilings. The black and white tile floor was clean and the posters on the wall from Commedia del'arte added an air of authenticity to the place. True to his word, there was Terry. His white hair, alone, would have grabbed attention, but it was on the face of a pretty Asian boy who seemed no older than of high school years.

It took a couple of looks for Raul to recognize that this really was his contact. His previous impression of a high-school fan club came back again, a bit stronger. The high-tech device now taking up one of his pockets, though, still belied the actions of a juvenile prank.

Weaving his way around the tables, he approached Terry. Once he reached the table, he asked, trying for a serious air but not quite reaching it, "You would be Terry, then?"

Without waiting for a response, he stuck out a hand, clean but still showing the ground-in stains of engine oil and grease. "Raul Justiniano, at'cher service. Pleased to meet'cha."

"He really didn't listen to what I said about this meeting." Terry thought. "Or maybe he is deliberately trying to push my button. Which makes no sense at all. Lets find out."

Not getting up or immediately replying, the white haired Asian youth looked up at the Hispanic man and the hand extended towards him. Looking back at Raul's face, Terry frowned dismissively and stood up., shaking his head before looking at Raul through his John Lennon-styled glasses. For someone of his apparent youth, the white haired Asian boy was tall, almost 6 feet in height from his expensive looking white loafers, the tailored white semi-formal suit and white gloves, to the golden frames of his glasses.
Putting down the fine china cup he had been drinking from, Terry finally addressed Raul, his smooth and rich voice, strained with annoyance "If you will excuse me, Mr. Justiniano, I was expecting to meet with a man who was serious about talking with The Director. Since that Mr. Justiniano obviously sent you in his place, have him contact me when hes ready to meet."

OOC; Terry will attempt to use his Telepathy to gather the list of names and other information that Empire provided Raul. I remind you that Terry has 2 ranks of the Power Feat, Subtle, which renders his Telepathy completely undetectable..

Given both of your comments, I am going to presume that Terry has the information he was looking for.

OOC: My apologies if I offended. I'll remove the internal monologue since I guess it really wasn't appropriate..

Raul sighed and spoke with a conciliatory tone, the volume low, meant for only the two of them, "Look, Terry. Whether you like it or not, I know your name, and I've made the effort to be fair by giving you mine. I'm sorry if you feel uncomfortable about the situation, but I didn't set it up, and taking it out on me's not going to get us anywhere.

"I've no interest in being your enemy and, from the look of things, we're probably going to have to work together to figure this thing out. So how about we sit down and talk about it? 'Cause I'm feeling really silly standing here and people are starting to stare."

"Sit down if you wish Mr. Justiniano," the white haired Asian added, his face expressionless and his rich smooth voice speaking in an no nonsense tone."I am not taking anything out upon you. I am simply going to leave. I do not intend to waste my time or yours any further as you refuses to take me seriously. After this, if the mature and serious Mr. Justiniano wishes to discuss the issues related to Empire and CAST, he can do so via the internet and the CAST forum. Do yourself a favor and forget about Terry. If you ever call him again, we will be enemies. Good bye and good luck."

Raul shook his head sadly but made no attempt to disabuse the young man of his attitude. "Okay, man, whatever you want."

He looked around briefly and said with a shrug, "Guess this isn't my kinda place anyway." With a wave of his hand and a parting, "Stay frosty," he turned and walked out.

Terry was leaning on the doorway as Raul walked out of the doorway. He grinned at Raul and shook his head "No, this is not your kind of place. But go back in and take a seat anyway. I'll be behind you in a moment.." he said, opening the door for Raul and motioning him back inside.

Raul stood still and stared at Terry with a frown, his gaze trying to discern the young man's intentions. Finally he shook his head again, this time in mild exasperation. "Fine," he said, complying with the request.

"But you're paying for your food now," he added over his shoulder.

Raul headed back to the table and, without waiting for his companion, sat down, trying to ignore the looks from the other diners.

Terry walked back to the table and sat down across from Raul still smiling. "I'm sorry. But as a teenager I'm required to an ass at least once a week. Besides, you did refuse to go along with my Director Identity, that made you fair game for the week." He paused briefly then continued in a more serious tone "So what can I do to you?"

Raul studied Terry across the table critically while his mind churned. He had an overpowering urge to confront the white-haired youth about his arrogant behavior, especially his accusation of the older man's lack of maturity (which, coming from Terry, constituted a few layers of flaky irony surrounding a creamy sweet center of self-denial).

In the end, the mechanic's inherent tolerance for other people's foibles won out. Looking at Terry's appearance, Raul could see him using his mental agility as a defense by way of biting sarcasm and verbal assault, especially against those he perceived as less intelligent than him. Raul had enough memories of his own travails through the social morass known as high school to empathize.

He sighed, letting his annoyance waft out with his breath, and said with a reasonable tone, "Mostly I wanted us to get a chance to meet face-to-face, get a feel for who we are. You talked about earning trust before. That's not something you do hiding behind machines."

Raul couldn't stop himself from adding, "And that little stunt you pulled just now? Didn't help much."

He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I get that you're sensitive about being recognized in your 'secret identity.' But think about it. I don't know how many white-haired Asian guys are in New Orleans, but there can't be that many. I gotta assume a number of folks already know your name. So walking around in public calling yourself 'Director' isn't exactly hiding anything, you see?

"Seriously, I'm not here to push you around, I got no desire to show you up or put you down. You're putting something together that I'm interested in being a part of. Can we talk about it?"

Terry said calmly "The people who know me in this city are actually fairly few. I'm not the most outgoing of people in normal circles. I can change my hair color and appearance in under an hour.

My concern about having a secret identity has to do with the other people in my life who could be endangered by my actions.

You have to understand something. Now that we know that people with abilities like yours exist, we can be fairly certain that more common human abilities such as the psychic ones do exist as well. Against a telepath for example, your mind is an open book. So far, most of the people with powers have been in hiding compared to Solstice, who made a target out of himself because he thought that he was the only one. Anyone paying attention to that event realized that there are others and if they are not otherwise driven to open action, are going to be subtle about how they use their powers for gain and criminal activity.

If you are going to do this, you too will need a secret identity unless you are willing to take on all comers any time of the day, 24/7. What I have been looking to do, is gather those of like mind and special abilities together in an alliance so that if someone does pull a Solstice, we'll be able to defeat them."

"Wow, paranoia strikes deep," Raul remarked as he glanced through the menu for something edible in his price range. What the hell is arugula, anyways?

"Look, 'mano," he looked up at Terry to give the teenager his full attention, "I understand where you're coming from with this, but I think you may be overreacting just a bit. Yeah, I know it's a big deal in the comic books, y'know," he adopted a deep voice as he recited,"'I must conceal my identity to protect my loved ones from my enemies.' But c'mon, that's just an excuse for their characters to wear big colorful and easily identifiable costumes."

Raul's hands gestured as he continued. "I mean, let's face it, look at cops. They deal with every kind of scum each day, but you don't see them wearing masks. Heck, the beat cops walk around with freakin' name tags.

"Now, I'm not saying that I'm going to take out an ad on the newspaper, but I really don't think it's necessary to switch to spandex as a wardrobe choice, y'know?"

* * * * *

Paul was out for another night of patrols. He couldn't tell if it was the sense of doing something right, or just the fact that he was able to release the anger at times, but he was really starting to enjoy himself. He had started to learn some of the patterns of the criminal element that was helping him to find problems easier than the first few times. It didn't take him long this night.

Michael had put a simple pattern together for the events that had been happening in the area. He decided, tonight, to park his unit on Magazine and walk over to Prytania. He kept his ears open as he strode down the street and looked in some of the alleys.

Disguised in his simple outfit, Paul heard the muffled voices and quickly turned the corner at Prytania and Upperline. He saw, in the shadows, four men dressed just like the thugs at Jackson Square that night. They were wearing the top hats and trench coats, and their faces were painted black with a white skull face. They seemed to be coming out of an antique store and were loading a few things into the back of a truck when they stopped and looked up at Paul.

Standing at the opposite corner, Michael had arrived at the same area seconds before Paul. He had seen the same thugs as they were loading up the merchandise into the truck. They might have spotted him had not Paul arrived and grabbed their attention first.

Michael focused for a second, eyes closed and his body quickly shifted. He could feel the smooth change as his body became tougher and denser. While still unnoticed, Michael starts to sneak up on the bad guys and attempts to clobber one of them.

Paul stood there for a moment, gaping. Thankfully, the mask hid his open mouth and clueless, surprised expression. It's those voodoo thugs, Paul thought to himself, the one's the others told me about! What are they doing?

"Hey! What the hell are you guys doing? Stop where you are!" he yelled and began running towards them, letting a little of his built-up energy flow into his fists. They began to crackle with static.

"Ah, fuck it", muttered Paul, and he launched a small bolt of lightning at the nearest skullfaced thug, hoping to knock him out.

Michael saw the masked figure run up and unleash his bolt of energy. Both of the heroes saw the bolt speed towards Paul's intended target until it suddenly veered away to the outstretched hand of a fifth figure who had appeared from the shadows. This dark skinned young woman, with hair of dreadlocks and piercingly light eyes, wore only a white skirt. The top of her body and face were marked with white paint, and she spoke with a thick accent.

"I don t'ink so, solja boy. You bes be leevuhn 'fore you get yousef kilt."

Paul skidded to a halt as he saw the woman appear and seemingly snatch his lightning bolt from the air. How the hell did she do that?, he wondered. Could she absorb energy like him?

"Well... painted lady, you best be putting those things back and telling me what you're goddamn doing before I have to stop you!" he said, a little weakly.

He quickly glanced around the gathered hoods wondering what the hell he was going to do. If she could deflect and catch his energy bolts then this was going to get painful. For him.

"Oh and what's with the costumes? You're a bit late for Mardi Gras"

"Youz in ya getup and ahskin' me about da Fat Tuesday? You don wan no paht of us and we no wan no paht of you. What say we paht wayz all peaceful?"

While the excitement of the energy bolt distracted everyone, Mike reached for his phone while trying to stay in the shadows of the alleyway. He finds a number and hits send. "Calling Jason" appears on the screen and he tucks his phone away while he continues to move towards the closest thug.

"My get-up?" Paul asked incredulously, pointing to his ski mask which was the only unusual part of his outfit. "You mean this mask? That's just to keep me warm on these cold, cold nights" he joked. "Maybe you should try covering up more".

"And talking of being peaceful, how 'bout you get your zombies to put all that stuff right back into the store 'fore I call the cops, huh?"

Paul stepped closer to van and the men loading it with 'goods', ready to either take them, or the vehicle, out.

Paul and Michael watched as the four thugs took a defense stance in front of the girl. "Ah don' tink we be puttin' de stuff back," she said. She reached out and touched one of the thugs on the shoulder. Paul and Michael saw the energy she caught transferred to the thug who's arms and hands turned to stone. He then began to punch his left palm with his right fist.

"I can take him, Marie," he said over his shoulder.

"Wass it gonna be, solja boy" she asked him with that thick accent. "Iss eitha play time or go away time."

'Fuck this' thought Paul, as he saw the man's arms transform. He stepped up to the van and placed his left hand on the hood. His power-fuelled anger bubbled up to the surface as he pointed at the painted woman apparently called 'Marie'. The finger began to glow an ugly red color.

"Goddamn it!" he shouted. "You're not listening. Your zombies attacked us before for no reason and now they're here pulling some sort of heist. I'm not going anywhere!"

Paul shifted his glowing, pointing right hand towards the front wheel of the van and fired off a blast of searing heat energy at the tyre, hoping to burst it. As he did, he tried to absorb the electrical energy from the battery within the hood of the van.

"And neither are you!"

Paul's attack on the vehicle caught Marie and her thugs by surprise. She wasn't able to catch the energy in time and his blast struck the tire. It exploded and sent them ducking albeit only momentarily. They recovered quick enough and before they could marshal their first counter to Paul's attack, Michael stepped from the shadows and clubbed the rock-handed one on the head. The painted man's expression went blank as Micheal's hands knocked him unconscious. The attacker's hands returned to normal as he slumped to the ground.

Paul drew in the energy from the battery as Marie grimaced. She held her hands out in front of her and yelled "Get him" to the remaining two that now turned to attack Michael. Paul and Marie stood facing each other. Alone.

Paul's eyes widened a little as he saw Michael take out 'Rocky'. 'Now I might stand a chance', thought Paul as he squared off against Marie, 'though I'm guessing energy blasts ain't gonna work against her'.

The electrical energy from the car battery still raged inside him, wanting release. He stooped, arms wide, and glared at Marie, his eyes glowing red. 'Shit, I have to fight a woman. And a goddamn half-naked one at that!'

He growled and then rushed full speed at Marie, hoping to surprise her again, and trying to tackle her to the ground.

"Time for a pounding!" he yelled. He was going to have to work on that battle cry.

Michael crouched into more of an attack stance and readied to fight his attackers. He hoped the sudden and solid hit on the first guy hadn't ruined the surprise of his high density. He leaned into his next hit, aiming for the uglier of the two thugs. "There's more where that came from, boys." He jeers a them.

OOC: Paul is rushing Marie, trying to tackle her to the ground. Then he'll beat on her (so chivalrous!). No powers, just rough'n'ready dirty fighting.

OOC: Taking a cue from Paul's simple methods, Michael is going to go with another punch to the face using his rock solid fists.

With Michael now engaged in combat with the two other robbers, Paul took his cue and rushed at Marie. He spread his arms to take her down as her arms came up. Paul couldn't stop in time as he slammed into a shimmering wall of kinetic force that appeared suddenly between he and Marie.

Michael cocked his arm and landed another solid blow on one of the other men who staggered and wobbled some in Front of Michael. Marie, seeing this, began to back away from the scene. The standing thug reared back to hit Michael, but missed as he stepped in closer to connect.

GM OOC: The villain Michael struck is not out. Everyone can act still this round.

Michael is growing a bit more confident and rushes the last guy.

Paul staggered back a step from the wall, shaking his head.

"Shiiit!" he cursed, spitting out a little blood from a newly-split lip, and rubbing his forehead. His face hurt. It had felt like he'd run into brick wall. So, not only could she absorb his blasts but she could also create force fields? Paul put his hand up onto the wall, not quite believing it. This sort of thing never happened in the comic books.

So, he thought, hitting her physically was out. Firing a blast at her wouldn't do much good. But maybe whilst she had the shield up she couldn't absorb his blasts aimed elsewhere through it.

Paul turned around quickly and looked towards the two thugs and Michael. Converting the electricity he'd absorbed from the battery, he pointed his fist at the guy Michael wasn't rushing and released a beam of heat energy his way.

OOC: Am I getting hit at all? I'm curious how strong my toughness is :D

GM OOC: The only guy to throw a punch on you missed wildly, so can't say just yet. :) But there will come a time when this is tested I am sure.

GM OOC: Since this came up, let me tell everyone my ruling on the use of powers against other PC's. No matter what the rules say, the PC will ALWAYS get a roll to determine if their character escapes the effects somehow. It is a house rule. Nestor decided to come forth with the information, which is his decision and fine, but that might always be the case.

OOC: Understood. My apologies if I subverted your authority ;-) In the interest of the story, it just seemed better for me to go ahead and "lay the cards on the table," so to speak.