Kintsugi Plays Fallen Hero: Rebirth

This thread supports women in STEM*!
* Science, Technology, Evil, and Math​

> She…

She is the woman you need right now, like it or not, and you unconsciously straighten your back as you make your way to her usual booth. You are not sure whether Dr. Mortum has a private arrangement on the side, or whether she's just here early enough to be able to pick and choose.

"Ah, good evening, mademoiselle." Dr. Mortum bows slightly, her rich black skin a stark contrast to the white coat. The orange shirt underneath makes a bold, neon statement.

Where the good doctor is really from is a matter of heated debate: you have heard everything from Canada to Haiti to New Orleans suggested, but she keeps the truth as hidden as her real name. What turned her down the road of the evil genius you doubt you will ever know; everybody has their own story, of interest to nobody but themselves.

Still, her degree is legit, and her mind is as sound as her manners—far better than the French accent you suspect might be an affectation. And, unlike many others in her business, she showers, dresses smartly, and takes you seriously, even though you suspect she wants to crawl into bed with you.

　‣ I encourage the flirting; it makes things more interesting.
　‣ This is just business.

What's our response to flirty French(?) mad scientists? Or rather, what do we think Barbara's should be?​

 

I don't remember if @blue 's DA2 thread ever resulted in a "FLIRT" reaction image, but it should have, so imagine that version of this:

 

All right, let's roll to seduce!​

> I encourage the flirting; it makes things more interesting.

"I have what you asked for," you say with the sweetest of smiles, crossing your legs to make sure the slit in your skirt reveals just the right amount of stocking.

You suppose some might say you are insecure about your normal body, dressing up like this, but it's an act you've actually come to enjoy. It's not really you, just another mask you wear.

You look around the darkened room. The booths in this section offer a certain amount of privacy, and at this time on a Tuesday night, everybody is at the bar. It is a simple act to reach into your ridiculously expensive handbag and slide the heavy black box over to her.

Dr. Mortum's hands almost tremble as she connects the thin cable of a codebreaker to the lock. Diodes flash from red to green, and the box slides open with a serpentine hiss.

There is no smell you can perceive, which is a little surprising considering the thin mist that seeps out.

"Do you have any idea what you truly have here?" she asks reverently.

"Of course I do," you say, trying not to sound insulted. "It is a colony of fully functional nanomachines." Forbidden technology of the blackest kind.

"Oh, they are far more than that." Dr. Mortum digs around in her pocket for a scanner, running it in slow circles over the small, roundish void-cage that was resting in the box, held safe by formfitting memory foam.

"Please, go on," you say, only half in jest. It is always risky to provoke men and women of science to talk about their work, but as long as you can stave off boredom and listen, you can learn a lot. You know that Dr. Mortum underestimates the extent of your knowledge, but you've never dissuaded her from that notion. You learn more that way.

"They are nanovores, ma chérie, a forbidden weapon from the battlefields of the Gulf. To possess just this small sample is a crime against humanity. Wherever did you find such a thing?"

"That is my business, and you know it." Your smile reveals nothing, and you sip your drink for good measure. She doesn't need to know that story.

> It's Ancient History

Almost a decade ago, you helped contain one of the largest nanostrikes on American soil, as a would-be conqueror fell victim to his own scheme. It took everything you had to tap into the rudimentary mind that controlled the swarm, holding it in place long enough for the Rangers of the day to destroy them.

A small sample was captured and kept, held secure in a void-cage, rendered inert. The hope was to develop a countermeasure in case the wars of the Gulf grew to encompass the world. With the arrival of peace and the ban on nano research, it had been left on a dusty shelf in the secure storage facility of the Rangers headquarters.

"I suppose it does not matter," she says, but from the look on her face she is already adding things up. She is bound to guess that this has something to do with the recent downtown battle. She is not a foolish woman, but luckily, she is not a scrupulous one either.

"You think they're possible to reprogram, then? Could they attack inorganic instead of organic matter?" You need a weapon of war, not of murder.

"The parameters should already be in place inside them; it is only a matter of finding and adjusting the settings. I do not traffic in failure, ma chérie. To control them is going to be the challenge."

"I know. I still need to pick those parts up."

"If you can procure what you have promised, this is going to be a work of art. Perfection," she exclaims, with a loving look at the nondescript container.

You find it amusing that, when faced between the choice of technology or cleavage, she goes for technology every time. That is the reason why most mad scientists are single, you suppose; if you devote your life to science, there is little room for anything else.

"And it will work according to my specifications?" you ask, leaning forward a little and running a red-nailed finger along the rim of your glass. You have caught her attention again, the mouse once more transfixed by the snake. You take a moment to sip your drink, and her eyes follow from hand to lips. Sucker.

"It will surpass your wildest expectations, ma chérie." She kisses the hand you hold out for her, and you smile again to suppress the shiver down your spine. "Four weeks from now, and it will be ready for testing. If you deliver what you have promised in time."

Your frown must have registered because she quickly continues, "It is impossible to get done sooner. On my honor."

You sigh and empty your drink.

"I will hold you to that promise, Doctor. I am on a schedule here as well." You allow yourself to look worried; you know that she already suspects you are a go-between for somebody else. Perhaps someone with a limited patience. Perhaps you might get hurt if she delays.

But the truth is that you do have a deadline. Every villain needs a grand plan, and you are no different in that respect.

Some traditions are worth upholding.

 

And that's the end of Chapter 1! Before we move on to Step 2 of our grand plan, though, I wanted to take a quick moment to introduce our stats.

Fallen Hero has a stat screen that keeps track of our current condition, our relationships with major characters, and broad trends in our choices. It looks like this:

Spoiler: Show Stats

CLASSIFIED

Secret Identity: Josie Jacobs
Gender: Non-binary
Description: An average mixed person in their thirties with brown eyes and short, neat curly dark brown hair.

Josie Jacobs is a seasoned, tech-savvy tactician.

Physical Status
Stamina: You are rested.
Willpower: You feel tired.
Injuries: You are fine, with no significant wounds.

Stamina is physical fatigue, willpower is mental strain and focus, and injuries should be self-explanatory. All three generally recover once we've had time to rest, though serious wounds may take longer to heal.​

Telepathy

Strength of Mind: 50%
████████████████████
Subtle Manipulations: 62%
████████████▒███████

These stats measure our powers and mainly affect the outcomes of difficult telepathic feats. Strength of Mind is raw psychic power and measures our ability to both shield our own mind and force others' into submission, while Subtle Manipulations is used for more delicate work like manipulating thoughts/perceptions and avoiding detection. Since we chose a more subtle approach to controlling Lady Argent, we start with a boost to the latter.​

Psychological Profile

These stats come in opposing pairs and (with the exception of Infamy/Obscurity) measure our overall mindset. They affect some details of our internal monologue, whether certain additional choices are available to us (e.g., whether we're reckless enough to try something truly crazy), and occasionally the outcome of choices/scenes.​

Infamy: 0% / Obscurity: 100%
████████████████████

Infamy and Obscurity measure our reputation as a villain—which is to say, none. Yet.​

Arrogance: 9% / Anonymity: 91%
█▒██████████████████

Arrogance and Anonymity measure how low a profile we've kept for our secret identity—and how much we really care to try. A very high-Anonymity character fears drawing attention, let alone suspicion, and cloaks themselves in a thoroughly forgettable persona untraceable to their villainous deeds; a very high-Arrogance one relishes every drop of infamy, chafes at a life in hiding, and engages in dramatic irony as an extreme sport.

We started at 90% anonymity and increased that by taking care to stay away from the crime scene (though since stat gains diminish at higher values, the change is small).​

Ruthlessness: 47% / Empathy: 53%
█████████▒██████████

Ruthlessness and Empathy measure our willingness to hurt others in pursuit of our goals. A very high-Empathy character draws a firm line between "villain" and "monster", works to minimize casualties, and cares about the people around them; a very high-Ruthlessness one will manipulate, maim, and murder with no such qualms and considers "innocent bystander" an oxymoron.

They start at 50/50; we gained a bit of ruthlessness for thoughtlessly piloting Argent's face into Steel's fist, and a bit more empathy for being considerate of our bellhop puppet's schedule.​

Daring: 33% / Caution: 67%
██████▒█████████████

Daring and Caution measure our risk tolerance and whether we think the best defense is a good offense, or vice versa.
A very high-Daring character springs into action quickly and decisively, even at great risk to themselves or their plans; a very high-Caution one keeps a level head and plays things safe, but hesitates to adapt to new developments and seize opportunities.

We started at 50/50, and most of our choices so far have pushed us further towards caution because no one in this thread trusts a risk as far as they can throw it.​

Main Puppet

Name: Barbara
Puppet Status: Fine.
Description: A tall white woman in her twenties, with blue eyes and long straight blond hair.

Allies and Enemies

The stat screen also shows our current relationships with major characters (tragically, Rosie doesn't make the cut). The values here determine, to varying degrees, how characters interact with/respond to us and how we think/feel about them.​

Barbara's relationship with Dr. Mortum: flirting.
Mortum and Barbara: 40%
████████████████████

Entries consist of two separate parts:
1) a label summarizing the nature of the relationship (friends, coworkers, nemeses, awkward exes, married for tax benefits…); and
2) a value that measures how close the relationship is.​

The stat screen is accessible at all times while playing, so I'm thinking I'll make it available under a spoiler tag at the end of each post? (With any new changes bolded.) Note that you never have to worry about our stats — this is an interactive story with no fail states, just different story outcomes, and the ones where you do mess up are often very interesting.* But if you're curious how the game has been tracking our overall choices/characterization, or just need a reminder of our current condition, they'll be here.

* Hell, there's an achievement for one particularly cool outcome clued only as, "You messed up. Badly," and it's the most infuriatingly obscure and finicky one in the game not that I'm bitter or anything.

 

Next up: Step Two. We are on a deadline, so let's get to it.

(I've also updated the OP with a short recap of Chapter 1 and the characters introduced therein, for those of us without eidetic memories.)​

Two Weeks Later

You never thought it would come to this. When you drafted your plans, this part was always the bit you glossed over. Ignored, in the hope that it might somehow resolve itself once you got there.

Working up the guts to possess one of the Rangers and walking into the lion's den to steal one of their darkest secrets was easy compared to what you are about to do now. This goes against every single rule you've set for yourself to stay safe. In fact, you don't think you have done anything this stupid since the Heartbreak incident….

Exactly what you do not need to be thinking about right now.

The phone feels like a dead weight in your hand. It's stolen, of course, hijacked along with the body you are wearing. The body belongs to a truck driver who moonlights for one of the less legit freight businesses in town, but it could have been anybody who had a phone with a cash-card that wasn't tied to some form of personal ID.

It just couldn't be you—they would know. Of that, you are sure.

Time to give them a call.

>

After a moment of hesitation, you punch in the number with surprisingly steady fingers. Even after all this time, you know it by heart.

"Yes?" The voice at the other end is cool, polite, and familiar, and your hand starts shaking despite your attempts to stay calm. Fuck. Why couldn't it have been a stranger?

"You…" You force yourself to swallow the nervous cracks threatening to break your voice into shrill splinters. "You can find Psychopathor in Warehouse 34B down at the southern docks." It is not your voice. There is no way they could know.

"Who are you, and how did you get this number?" There's a reactive flinch from you as you hear the familiar tone harden. But it's on the other side of a phone, and you are beyond reach.

"Never mind that." You try to sound bland and matter-of-fact. This is being recorded; you need to leave no clues. "The important thing is that he won't be expecting you."

"Wait, wh—" You hang up in the middle of the sentence, your thumb making the decision for you. You can't. You just can't. It will have to be enough.

Your hand is shaking, your thumb still pressed hard against the screen.

You don't want to remember this. Especially not right now. It's in the past, water under the bridge and all that. You don't want to remember—but the problem with things like this is that the more you think about not thinking about it, the more it comes crawling back to haunt you. Maybe you shouldn't have done this. Maybe you should have played it safe.

But it's too late now.

Forcing your hand to unclench, you drop the phone to the ground, crushing it under your heel before you kick the remains over the side of the pier into the water below. The call wouldn't have lasted long enough for them to trace. At least, you hope that is still the case.

Taking one final, deep breath of the damp harbor air, you leave your host with a memory of dropping the phone into the water; a moment of fumbling inattention leading to loss and frustration.

By then, you are already busy throwing up elsewhere.

> Back in Your Own Body

The bottle of water is enough to rinse the taste of vomit out of your mouth, but your hands are still shaking as you curl up and wait.

It would have to be them. Not many others could hope to bring down a monster like Psychopathor. Sure, you fought him back when you ran with the Rangers, but nearly a decade has passed since then, and he has not been idle. If you tried the stunt today that you did last time with Ortega, you both would be dead.

Luckily, you are not who you were either. Otherwise, you would never have stooped to this. To using them….

Them…

In a world filled with Enhanced people, some things are still more taboo than others. Be they Boosts or Mods, all the Enhanced are human at the core, no matter how wildly they have deviated from their origins. Not so the Re-Genes.

Like robotic constructs, Re-Genes are created, not born. They are subject to none of the rights of a proper human being. Like stem cell clones, they are supposedly mindless, just a body to strip for parts with no soul to fill it.

Human ingenuity might have enabled the GeniTech Corporation to reconstruct humanoid beings from the ground up. But giving them a mind, much less a soul? That is impossible.

Circumventing this limitation, the Re-Genes that the Special Directive employ as weapons are outfitted with artificial minds: advanced AIs that can mimic the acts of people, but aren't truly alive.

Or so the story goes.

The Re-Genes are put in distinctive uniforms, their faces and bodies covered with bright tattoos, marking them for the tools they are. These warning signs are there to make people keep their distance, as the powers involved are often much more dangerous than what normal Boosts could wield and survive. They also make it impossible to confuse Re-Genes with a normal human, especially when combined with their distinctive blue-gray skin.

Always a controversial presence, most of the Re-Genes are used in the wars abroad. But several teams always remain on US soil, ready to be put to use should the Special Directive require it.

Like now.

Because you called them in….

Your hands are still shaking. Shivering a little, you put them in your armpits to try to warm them up as you wait. You wish you could just let your mind go blank and settle into your usual, patient routine. Not this time though; right now your mind just keeps churning, a hornet's nest of anxiety.

　‣ It was that voice…too many bad memories.
　‣ This plan has too many moving parts for my liking.
　‣ Bringing in the Special Directive risks shining the spotlight on me.
　‣ I wish Ortega was here.

Spoiler: Show Stats

CLASSIFIED

Secret Identity: Josie Jacobs
Gender: Non-binary
Description: An average mixed person in their thirties with brown eyes and short, neat curly dark brown hair.

Josie Jacobs is a seasoned, tech-savvy tactician.

Physical Status
Stamina: You are rested.
Willpower: You feel calm.
Injuries: You are fine, with no significant wounds.

Telepathy

Strength of Mind: 50%
████████████████████
Subtle Manipulations: 62%
████████████▒███████

Psychological Profile

Infamy: 0% / Obscurity: 100%
████████████████████
Arrogance: 9% / Anonymity: 91%
█▒██████████████████
Ruthlessness: 47% / Empathy: 53%
█████████▒██████████
Daring: 33% / Caution: 67%
██████▒█████████████

Main Puppet

Name: Barbara
Puppet Status: Fine.
Description: A tall white woman in her twenties, with blue eyes and long straight blond hair.

Allies and Enemies

Barbara's relationship with Dr. Mortum: flirting.
Mortum and Barbara: 40%
████████████████████

 

Too many moving parts

 

> This plan has too many moving parts for my liking.

You know all too well that the simpler the plan, the more chance it has to succeed. The main problem here is that you couldn't think of a simple plan to get what you need from Psychopathor. He would never willingly part with his most prized possession, nor could you just mentally manipulate him into giving it up. You had a brief brush with that infested mind as you were researching options and dismissed it as far too dangerous.

There is a reason you call him the 'old monster': his mind is so twisted by paranoia and spite that if you went in there, you wouldn't come out the same person. If you came out again at all.

Madness is dangerous that way: it seeps in and takes hold so seductively that you could never really be sure whether you had been compromised or not, even if you tried your best to keep your own self secure.

You learned that the hard way….

> Seven Years Ago

Cutting in to give a blanket content warning for this and all further flashbacks to seven years ago:

Spoiler: content warning

These flashbacks very heavily involve suicide. This includes mass suicide, attempted suicide, suicidal ideation, and most other phrases with "suicide" in them.

​

It came from the north, a mysterious sequence of weird accidents, strange suicides, and mass panic. When mapped out, the incidents formed an uneven line, steadily heading south.

A mass pileup of cars on the freeway brought in the authorities, who were shocked to discover people crashing their vehicles into each other apparently at random. A traffic chopper at the scene caught the mayhem, then made headlines of its own as it crashed down into the twisted wrecks below.

Still, people did not sit up and take notice until the first cop shot himself on live television.

By that time, it had stopped moving, taking root in the northern suburbs of Los Diablos. It had left a no-go zone where anyone who entered slowly went mad and tried to kill themselves. At first, the exclusion zone had been a single apartment building. But by the time the Rangers had been called in, it was half a block and more.

Whatever was in there was growing stronger, the lethal disquiet spreading further and further. With the threat affecting people's minds, of course the Rangers had contacted you….

"Don't stand so close; you're giving me a headache." You rub your forehead a bit, giving Sergeant Steel a glare. The man in the massive armor doesn't deign to answer.

It is no secret that Steel does not like you. You are not one of the Rangers, even if you have worked with them often enough. Not only that, you are a masked vigilante with a secret identity, and he has a hard time understanding why a hero would need such secrecy. You aren't about to illuminate him, either.

"Give him a break, Sidestep. He's here to keep us safe." Anathema shoots you a smile. They might not exactly be your friend, but unlike Steel, Anathema likes you.

You've always felt a little closer to Anathema than to most of the other heroes, as there aren't that many that share some of your experiences. The culture is a lot more open out west, but it's still not exactly common to be non-binary and open about it. Sure, Windfall is, but you've never worked together with them. And you have your suspicions about Redshift, but they are so private it's hard to be sure.

It's also hard to dislike Anathema, who is short, chubby, and bubbly—and as invulnerable as they come.

"Safe…" you say, starting to protest that nobody here is even remotely safe. A clap on the shoulder from Ortega makes you bite back your comment. She has returned from her talk with the officers in charge, looking as edgy and worried as you have ever seen her.

"Sorry about your head, but we don't have a choice here. The threat is probably telepathic in nature, and Steel's armor is the only thing that can power the mobile dampeners." There's no room for an argument in her words, and honestly you were only making one because you were nervous.

"Unless someone wants to drive a truck up the stairs," Anathema says. with another smile in Ortega's direction.

"That was a bike, and I was going downstairs. A completely different situation." Ortega returns their smile, the gravity of the situation defused somewhat.

"Do we have permission to get this show on the road then, Marshal?" Steel doesn't smile. He rarely does. Instead, he fixes Ortega with a hard stare.

"Yeah. We do. The evacuation of the surrounding block is continuing, and…" Ortega keeps talking, but you have stopped listening.

Your head is throbbing with a low-level toothache. Ortega is right about this thing being telepathic in nature; you can feel the pressure against your shields. Even though you complain about Steel being around, that annoyance is at least a known thing. Telepathic dampeners might hurt…but what is in there hurts worse.

You're not the only one feeling it either. There's an officer over at the cordon who keeps looking towards the building. Keeps touching his face as if he was trying to pull something off his skin. But it's only when his hand starts reaching for his holster that you realize he's about to lose it.

　‣ No time to lose; I disarm him before he can pull the trigger.
　‣ Better safe than sorry; I punch him out.
　‣ Anathema is closer; I yell at them to make them notice what is happening.

Spoiler: Show Stats

CLASSIFIED

Secret Identity: Josie Jacobs
Gender: Non-binary
Description: An average mixed person in their thirties with brown eyes and short, neat curly dark brown hair.

Josie Jacobs is a seasoned, tech-savvy tactician.

Physical Status
Stamina: You are rested.
Willpower: You feel calm.
Injuries: You are fine, with no significant wounds.

Telepathy

Strength of Mind: 50%
████████████████████
Subtle Manipulations: 62%
████████████▒███████

Psychological Profile

Infamy: 0% / Obscurity: 100%
████████████████████
Arrogance: 9% / Anonymity: 91%
█▒██████████████████
Ruthlessness: 47% / Empathy: 53%
█████████▒██████████
Daring: 39% (+6) / Caution: 61%
███████▒████████████

I have no idea why this option increases Daring — I honestly suspect the author accidentally typed + instead of -.​

Main Puppet

Name: Barbara
Puppet Status: Fine.
Description: A tall white woman in her twenties, with blue eyes and long straight blond hair.

Allies and Enemies

Barbara's relationship with Dr. Mortum: flirting.
Mortum and Barbara: 40%
████████████████████

 

> Disarm him, because none of these plans can POSSIBLY go horribly wrong

 

We'll be taking that! Why did the LDPD even send them armed with deadly weapons??
(Going to unitalicize until we're out of flashback mode.)​

> No time to lose; I disarm him before he can pull the trigger.

You're Sidestep, after all: it takes no effort to vault over one of the parked cars and yank the gun out of the man's hand. He's not even gripping it that hard; it's like he doesn't know it's there.

Once you look inside his eyes, you realize that he isn't there.

"Get this man restrained," you bark at one of the other officers. "And get out of here right now. The area's expanding again."

It never ceases to amaze you when people obey your orders. That's the kind of authority a mask can give a person.

Disaster averted. See, we can be a hero without it going horribly wrong!​

The officers withdraw quickly enough, leaving the four of you on the wrong side of the cordon. You don't think you're the only one feeling the pressure; all of you are crowding a little closer together.

"So, no time to lose I suppose." Ortega straightens a little, looking over at the distant apartment building. There are lights on in there, but you haven't seen any sign of movement since you got here.

"I still think we should bring the whole team in." Anathema is rubbing their hand a little, looking uncharacteristically disturbed.

"Whatever this thing is, it gets inside your head. That means we are the ones most suited to deal with it." Ortega grimaces; she doesn't look too eager either. "It's my call."

It was, but you are agreeing with it. Steel's armor has been fitted with telepathic dampeners and should protect him along with the rest of you. Anathema is invulnerable to damage, so even if they should get separated from Steel, they should be alright. And Ortega…

Ortega has an ace up her sleeve that most people don't know about: she is an epileptic. And, like most epileptics, she is immune to telepathy.

It has something to do with the electrical storms in the brain that cause the seizures; there is enough static in there to make it nearly impossible to read her mind. Or in this case, be influenced from the outside. Even standing next to her, you need to focus to realize that there is a woman standing there at all.

Honestly, that's one of the reasons you like teaming up with her: you can relax your guard and not risk picking up unwanted thoughts.

"What are we waiting for, then?" You hate waiting; you always did.

"I still wish you'd sit this one out, Sidestep." Ortega and you had an argument about this earlier, as she wasn't sure your telepathic shields were up for the job. Nothing infuriates you quite as much as people trying to tell you they know what is best for you. But—since she's looking for an answer—you have one for her.

　‣ No. People are in danger.
　‣ No. I can handle it.
　‣ No. I'm curious about what this is.
　‣ No. You need my help.

Spoiler: Show Stats (no changes)

CLASSIFIED

Secret Identity: Josie Jacobs
Gender: Non-binary
Description: An average mixed person in their thirties with brown eyes and short, neat curly dark brown hair.

Josie Jacobs is a seasoned, tech-savvy tactician.

Physical Status
Stamina: You are rested.
Willpower: You feel calm.
Injuries: You are fine, with no significant wounds.

Telepathy

Strength of Mind: 50%
████████████████████
Subtle Manipulations: 62%
████████████▒███████

Psychological Profile

Infamy: 0% / Obscurity: 100%
████████████████████
Arrogance: 9% / Anonymity: 91%
█▒██████████████████
Ruthlessness: 47% / Empathy: 53%
█████████▒██████████
Daring: 39% / Caution: 61%
███████▒████████████

Main Puppet

Name: Barbara
Puppet Status: Fine.
Description: A tall white woman in her twenties, with blue eyes and long straight blond hair.

Allies and Enemies

Barbara's relationship with Dr. Mortum: flirting.
Mortum and Barbara: 40%
████████████████████

 

>You need my help

 

What's she planning to do without us, use Thunderpunch on the psychic suicide aura?​

> No. You need my help.

"If you think I plan on letting you go in there alone, you're being an even bigger idiot than usual." You cross your arms, giving Ortega a hard look. "You need a telepath in there."

"We don't need you," Sergeant Steel supplies, before Anathema shushes him.

"I'm glad you're not the one in charge of this team then, right?" You keep your gaze fixed on Ortega.

"Fine, you win. Let's get moving." You get one final, hard look from Ortega before she turns around and starts walking towards the building, the rest of you in tow.

It's a familiar routine. By now, you are quite used to working together. Ortega takes point with Steel, while you bring up the rear with Anathema. That keeps both Steel and the dampeners as far away from you as possible, so everyone wins.

Not everyone. Not the people who lived here.

You shiver a bit as you approach the building. There are bodies littering the ground: limp, dark piles at the edge of your vision. There is something disconcerting about a dead body. Your mind identifies them as human, and your thoughts reach out, only to touch…nothing.

　‣ I look away. I don't need to see more bodies.
　‣ I take a closer look. There might be clues here.

Do we need to examine the scene? …Do we want to?​

Spoiler: Show Stats

CLASSIFIED

Secret Identity: Josie Jacobs
Gender: Non-binary
Description: An average mixed person in their thirties with brown eyes and short, neat curly dark brown hair.

Josie Jacobs is a seasoned, tech-savvy tactician.

Physical Status
Stamina: You are rested.
Willpower: You feel calm.
Injuries: You are fine, with no significant wounds.

Telepathy

Strength of Mind: 50%
████████████████████
Subtle Manipulations: 62%
████████████▒███████

Psychological Profile

Infamy: 0% / Obscurity: 100%
████████████████████
Arrogance: 9% / Anonymity: 91%
█▒██████████████████
Ruthlessness: 47% / Empathy: 53%
█████████▒██████████
Daring: 45% (+6) / Caution: 55%
████████████████████

Main Puppet

Name: Barbara
Puppet Status: Fine.
Description: A tall white woman in her twenties, with blue eyes and long straight blond hair.

Allies and Enemies

Barbara's relationship with Dr. Mortum: flirting.
Mortum and Barbara: 40%
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‣ I take a closer look. There might be clues here. (Something something don't turn your back on the body, and besides, wouldn't it be just your flashback luck if this was the telepath who also picked up necromancy?)

 

also might as well lean into the trauma

 

What's a little more PTSD, really? (This choice is its own content warning.)​

> I take a closer look. There might be clues here.

You don't have to veer from the path to take a closer look, as you literally have to step over some of them to get to the door of the building. The cause of death seems obvious enough. Falling.

Looking at the damage, you gather they must have jumped from the upper floors. A quick glance upwards shows that there are windows there gaping open, some of them broken, some…opened?

You would have thought that people would have thrown themselves through the opening in a blind panic. The thought of someone deliberately opening the window before jumping to their death sends a shiver down your spine. Who could bring themselves to do that?

These people, apparently. This morning, they were living, breathing souls with hopes and dreams. Now they look like twisted dolls on the ground. Wrong angles. Strangely positioned.

Some look almost unhurt, while others have flattened into grotesque shapes, their innards pushed out through any available body opening. You see that one of the women has red claw marks on her face. Did she make them herself, manicured nails tearing into her soft flesh?

Did that old man gouge out his own eyes? What did he see?

You don't know, but the pressure against your shields is increasing, so you look away. Don't need to add more nightmare fodder.

"Keep your eyes open for any signs of life," Ortega cautions as she keeps scanning the bodies.

"Gah, this whole place stinks." Anathema grimaces, narrowing their eyes and yanking at the front door with no result.

"This is what death smells like." Steel is keeping an eye on the surroundings, gun at the ready.

"You are such a cheerful man, you know?" Anathema places their palm against the locked door, secreting corrosive acid that eats through the metal with little effort. Their hand is quickly yanked back and shaken a little, sending green droplets flying.

"Watch it," you snap. One of the drops had nearly hit you, and it is now eating a hole in the sidewalk. "We can't all be invulnerable."

"You should know well enough to stand back then," Anathema says with a laugh, rubbing their hand a little. "This is dangerous business."

Though dressed in their standard Ranger blue-toned skinsuit, their arms and legs are bare. The protection is unnecessary, and there's always the risk of acid damage. They may look strangely vulnerable with their pale, heavily freckled skin and bare feet, but you know that they can't feel a thing. You've seen bullets bounce off that seemingly fragile form.

Ortega is the first one inside, as always, securing the area before the rest of you follow. It doesn't look very threatening: just numbered apartment doors, a stairway leading up, and a pair of closed elevator doors. The smell is a lot worse in here, and you avoid looking at the names of the residents. Most likely they are all dead already.

"Elevator looks stuck." Anathema presses the button repeatedly with a faint frown on their face.

　‣ "I bet whatever's doing this is at the top."
　‣ "Should we knock on the doors and see if anyone is alive?"
　‣ "I have a bad feeling about this."

Spoiler: Show Stats (no change)

CLASSIFIED

Secret Identity: Josie Jacobs
Gender: Non-binary
Description: An average mixed person in their thirties with brown eyes and short, neat curly dark brown hair.

Josie Jacobs is a seasoned, tech-savvy tactician.

Physical Status
Stamina: You are rested.
Willpower: You feel calm.
Injuries: You are fine, with no significant wounds.

Telepathy

Strength of Mind: 50%
████████████████████
Subtle Manipulations: 62%
████████████▒███████

Psychological Profile

Infamy: 0% / Obscurity: 100%
████████████████████
Arrogance: 9% / Anonymity: 91%
█▒██████████████████
Ruthlessness: 47% / Empathy: 53%
█████████▒██████████
Daring: 45% / Caution: 55%
████████████████████

Main Puppet

Name: Barbara
Puppet Status: Fine.
Description: A tall white woman in her twenties, with blue eyes and long straight blond hair.

Allies and Enemies

Barbara's relationship with Dr. Mortum: flirting.
Mortum and Barbara: 40%
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It's always at the top. That's just basic dramatic staging.

 

We're going to look very silly if this thing is in the basement.​

> "I bet whatever's doing this is at the top."

"I bet whatever's doing this is at the top." You can't be sure, but the pressure feels like it is coming from above. And isn't that how these things work? You always find the villain in the basement or the penthouse, never in the middle.

"I knew it." Steel is covering the stairs, his short-range plasma cannon swinging back and forth. "I hate stairs."

"Looks like we've got some ways to go, then." Anathema gives the elevator button one final push.

"The stairs it is." Ortega shrugs a little as she looks upstairs. "Sorry about that, Steel."

"Fine. Let's get this over with." Steel starts heading up the stairs, one ponderous step at a time. You can see the railing bend a little with a torturous squeak as he brushes against it. His armor is not the most agile of contraptions, and it is not meant to climb stairs. Ortega hesitates a moment before she follows, keeping a safe distance.

"Let's wait a moment," you joke under your breath to Anathema. "That way, if he plummets into the cellar, we won't be joining him."

Normally, a joke like that would have got a laugh out of Anathema, but it seems that the gravity of the situation is getting even to them.

Not that you can blame them.

> You Don't Want To Remember

Present Day

You drag yourself back to reality, back from the stairs and the truths that lurk up there. Sidestep is dead. You are not.

Instead, you are cold, cramped, and nervous, wishing you could stretch your legs. But you can't risk moving and getting spotted, so instead you busy yourself going over your equipment.

Always be prepared: that's your motto, and while you don't have access to everything you had back when you were Sidestep, you've managed to improvise a kit that hopefully will help you get through this. A tranquilizer gun is a poor replacement for your old energy caster, but it is quiet and fast. A lightweight protective vest is no plasteel carapace, but the matte black skinsuit will help keep you hidden.

With your face covered, you are nothing but a shadow in the darkness, and a pair of night vision goggles means you don't have to rely on telepathy or outside light sources to get around. With some other useful trinkets in case of emergencies, you are as ready as you'll ever be.

You wish you had another option besides calling them, but you don't.

If the circumstances had been different, you would have called in the Rangers. But you had to be sure whoever you got could get the job done. With your recent possession of Lady Argent, plus Herald's injuries, you imagine they would not be at their best. And you can't allow any chance of failure.

No chance of him getting away.

You needed the Special Directive.

Now all you have to do is wait. Unfortunately, waiting also means time for thinking, something you have tried so hard to avoid. There is that staircase in your memories, the intense physical memory of walking upstairs, carefully, step by step, surrounded by the stench of death.

No. You are not there. You are here, in the cold and misty darkness of the docks, curled up in your hidey-hole. Nowhere else.

　‣ I have hidden myself as close to my target as I dare.
　‣ I am waiting for them at a distance. It is safer that way.

Right, okay, let's get our mind back on the plan. Do we want to be as ready as possible to get in position, or keep well out of the way until it's time to go?​

Spoiler: Show Stats (no change)

CLASSIFIED

Secret Identity: Josie Jacobs
Gender: Non-binary
Description: An average mixed person in their thirties with brown eyes and short, neat curly dark brown hair.

Josie Jacobs is a seasoned, tech-savvy tactician.

Physical Status
Stamina: You are rested.
Willpower: You feel calm.
Injuries: You are fine, with no significant wounds.

Telepathy

Strength of Mind: 50%
████████████████████
Subtle Manipulations: 62%
████████████▒███████

Psychological Profile

Infamy: 0% / Obscurity: 100%
████████████████████
Arrogance: 9% / Anonymity: 91%
█▒██████████████████
Ruthlessness: 47% / Empathy: 53%
█████████▒██████████
Daring: 45% / Caution: 55%
████████████████████

Main Puppet

Name: Barbara
Puppet Status: Fine.
Description: A tall white woman in her twenties, with blue eyes and long straight blond hair.

Allies and Enemies

Barbara's relationship with Dr. Mortum: flirting.
Mortum and Barbara: 40%
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‣ I have hidden myself as close to my target as I dare. I seem to have a pattern of distant planning and reconnaissance and only succeeding when I do the real work up close, might as well keep building that pattern.

 

> I have hidden myself as close to my target as I dare.

And so you wait.

Predictably, dark falls completely before they make their move. Your telepathic powers mean you don't have to keep a physical eye on things. Oh, the operatives' minds are protected, but you've moved quite beyond what they are prepared for.

You can feel them in the night, little thought-voids moving closer, surrounding the building. You don't even need to see this because you know how it will play out. By heart.

How big a team will they send? The standard load-out is five operatives, but would Psychopathor warrant more? Probably not. Hopefully not. Most likely three MBOs: Main Battle Operatives, the mainstay of the Special Directive, the kind of Re-Genes with enough power to go head to head with the strongest Enhanced.

Then two SCOs, Secondary Control Operatives, for sentry duty and crowd control. These are made to deal with non-Enhanced opponents, henchmen, and civilians, making sure the MBOs won't be distracted from their jobs.

First, they will check for sentries. This is why you have situated yourself in a spot that has no line of sight, and thus is useless for anyone intent on guarding the building. Then somebody will strike the first blow to breach the walls—somebody with flashy, visible powers to draw attention and…

> Here We Go

The explosion sears the night, green flames lapping the sky, turning the lenses in your goggles black to save your vision. Good old Dr. Mortum—if she will do as well on your main project, she deserves a bonus. The lenses adjust back, the world once again speckled green and black as you hear gunfire.

Henchmen, probably. It was rumored that Psychopathor had hired the WolfPack; it looks like that was right on the money.

Good. That should make things even more chaotic.

Time for you to make your move.

You banish thoughts of capture and failure as you move quickly towards the warehouse. Even through the shields, you can feel their positions, little voids of thoughts hovering at the edge of your attention.

Four of them are inside. A fifth keeps watch from a low rooftop—most likely an SCO with hyper senses, on alert for escapees or reinforcements.

Time for you to leave your cover.

Huddled on the ground, you prepare yourself to run to the warehouse. But the sentry whose thoughts you picked up worries you. Is it really wise to just leave him out there?

He could alert the others to your presence, or worse, decide to try to stop you in person. Since he is keeping that kind of distance, you imagine he's probably armed with some sort of sniper rifle as well as hyper senses.

A bullet in the back can be dodged, but only if you can pick up his intentions to fire in time. Could you do that through the dampeners he's wearing?

Maybe. Maybe not. Or maybe he will just leave you alone, deciding that revealing his position is not worth eliminating a single, lightly armored henchman.

Should you take him out before he notices you? Normally, you wouldn't even consider dealing directly with one of them, but a sentry SCO should be within your capabilities.

　‣ If he has super senses, I can try to overload them before running.
　‣ He probably won't risk his position to attack a lone henchman.

Do we need to do something about this sentry before we leave our cover? Or are we better off just ignoring him and blending in with the crowd?​

Spoiler: Show Stats

CLASSIFIED

Secret Identity: Josie Jacobs
Gender: Non-binary
Description: An average mixed person in their thirties with brown eyes and short, neat curly dark brown hair.

Josie Jacobs is a seasoned, tech-savvy tactician.

Physical Status
Stamina: You are rested.
Willpower: You feel calm.
Injuries: You are fine, with no significant wounds.

Telepathy

Strength of Mind: 50%
████████████████████
Subtle Manipulations: 62%
████████████▒███████

Psychological Profile

Infamy: 0% / Obscurity: 100%
████████████████████
Arrogance: 9% / Anonymity: 91%
█▒██████████████████
Ruthlessness: 47% / Empathy: 53%
█████████▒██████████
Daring: 50% (+5) / Caution: 50%
████████████████████

Main Puppet

Name: Barbara
Puppet Status: Fine.
Description: A tall white woman in her twenties, with blue eyes and long straight blond hair.

Allies and Enemies

Barbara's relationship with Dr. Mortum: flirting.
Mortum and Barbara: 40%
████████████████████

 

> he probably won't risk his position. best not risk alerting them to something unusual going on.

 

True — attacking him might just put more of a target on our back.​

> He probably won't risk his position to attack a lone henchman.

You reason that, without heavy armor or armament, the sentry will most likely think you are one of the guards that they missed during the first sweep, if he spots you at all. And since the fight has already started, there should be no reason for him to risk his position by trying to take you out.

You hope.

Still, if you are lucky, his attention might be focused elsewhere.

　‣ I run as fast as I can, pretending to be a henchman heading to the fight.
　‣ I keep my head down, trying to present a small target as I crawl.

Spoiler: Show Stats (no change)

CLASSIFIED

Secret Identity: Josie Jacobs
Gender: Non-binary
Description: An average mixed person in their thirties with brown eyes and short, neat curly dark brown hair.

Josie Jacobs is a seasoned, tech-savvy tactician.

Physical Status
Stamina: You are rested.
Willpower: You feel calm.
Injuries: You are fine, with no significant wounds.

Telepathy

Strength of Mind: 50%
████████████████████
Subtle Manipulations: 62%
████████████▒███████

Psychological Profile

Infamy: 0% / Obscurity: 100%
████████████████████
Arrogance: 9% / Anonymity: 91%
█▒██████████████████
Ruthlessness: 47% / Empathy: 53%
█████████▒██████████
Daring: 50% / Caution: 50%
████████████████████

Main Puppet

Name: Barbara
Puppet Status: Fine.
Description: A tall white woman in her twenties, with blue eyes and long straight blond hair.

Allies and Enemies

Barbara's relationship with Dr. Mortum: flirting.
Mortum and Barbara: 40%
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