>Wait for your senses to return to normal and take in your surroundings.

>>5241666
>>Struggle to free yourself from whatever is holding you down.

>>5241666
>>Struggle to free yourself from whatever is holding you down.

You try to jerk your arms upwards, but they are apparently bound at the wrist to the surface you are currently lying on. Your legs are similarly restrained at the ankles. The two figures closest to you move away.
The constraints are very rigid, so most likely not rope. If you want to trash hard to break them, roll 1d100.

Rolled 57 (1d100)

>>5241694

Rolled 33 (1d100)

>>5241694

Rolled 5 (1d100)

>>5241694

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24 KB JPG

>>5241729
You muster all of the strength you can manage and pull with your limbs. The metallic manacles groan with stress and twist right off with a clang. You have but one fleeting moment to wonder at your ability to break metal: a sudden impact jostles the inside of the room, tossing you off the table(?) and onto the ground. You can now move.

You still feel dizzy and your eyes are still adjusting, but can now hear somewhat normally. A series of steps is approaching you, and someone shouts: “Hold him down! Prepare another dose of sedative!”

You can also hear a loud, continuous hum.It sounds like an engine of some kind.

FYI, I use roll-under. The number to roll under, in this case, was 30.

>>5241745
You now...

>Attempt to get up as fast as possible and run away/fight off anyone that comes near

>Roll onto your back and try to get a good look around

>Other

Rolled 50 (1d100)

I try to charge the person approaching me, even if I can't still see much, just following the sound of steps.

>>5241749
+1

>>5241749
>>5241756
You get up on your feet and charge (more like quickly stumble) towards the figure you now see rushing you. After colliding you get to take a decent look at him: a man with a helmet and dark, heavy clothing. You can’t see well enough to appreciate his features.
You may be strong enough to bend steel, but it’s obvious that he’s faster and better prepared: you get grabbed by the shoulders and tripped back on the table; at least you manage to remain upright, only sorta awkwardly half-sitting on the edge.

“Sedate him!” The man bellows.

Your vision is getting better as well, as you catch movement with the corner of your eye: there are two other people closing in. One is clad in similarly dark and bulky clothing as your opponent, the other is dressed in white and wears what appears to be a facemask; he gives you the impressions of a surgeon.
You spot another white figure standing still in the far corner, some 6 feet (2 meters) away from you.

>Fight off your opponent by punching him, then retreat as far as the room allows.

>Try to spin him around and hold him as a shield between you and the others.

>Struggle out of his grasp and throw yourself at the farthest person.

>Other

>>5241790
>other
>Let out an ear piercing shriek

Rolled 83, 66 = 149 (2d100)

>>5241813
You scream as loudly as you can. The sound reverberates in the small space and the guy in front of you recoils in surprise, but only for a brief moment. The next second he’s trying his hardest to push you down on the metal table, helped by his buddy. The one looking like a medic stands by, holding something small in his hand…

Roll 1d100 to resist.

>>5241790
>>Try to spin him around and hold him as a shield between you and the others.

Rolled 65 (1d100)

>>5241824

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58 KB JPG

>>5241828
You BARELY manage to stay upright. Your two assailants are having difficulty manhandling you, even with their numerical advantage: they are trying to immobilize your arms while pushing down on your shoulders, but your flailing is making things hard.

You can see mostly clearly now. They are wearing heavy, dark-grey winter jackets, that much is obvious, but what startles you are the weapons dangling at their sides by slings: two small but menacing rifles. Thankfully, they seem more inclined to try and keep you still than shooting you full of holes. For now.

The medic, in the meanwhile, is trying to cut between the tangle of arms to jab you with a syringe. A rather big one, full of clear liquid. The other medic is still standing in the corner, hesitating.

Even in the blur of the moment, you notice two oddities:
1) You are wearing a medical patient gown.
2) You arms seem to sport some big, black spots. Or scabs, you can’t tell yet.

>Go for one of the guns! (You have never used one in your life)

>Go for the syringe. (harder to grab than the guns)

> Other

>>5241857
>>Go for the syringe. (harder to grab than the guns)

>>5241869
You try to reach beyond the two grunts to grab the good doctor’s wrist.

roll 1d100.

Rolled 83 (1d100)

>>5241883

Rolled 58 (1d100)

>>5241903
Nothing: your fingers veer dangerously close to the needle’s tip, then your arm is grabbed by one of the men and held out for the injection. The doctor goes in for the jab…

(You may still try to do something while he attempts to inject you)

>>5241915
You feel a sharp pain as the needle pricks you in the arm. Only a quarter of the syringe's content finds its way into you before your struggling breaks off the needle, though.

Sorry for the delay, IRL stuff to do.

>>5242022

This is a slow board, so you can take your time.

>>5242064
Yeah, it's just that I had roll results to write out and it was very simple. Thanks for the understanding.

No more delays until I go to bed now, am ready for player input.

>>5242022
Try screaming again but this time closer to the doctors ears

Rolled 27, 58, 23, 93 = 201 (4d100)

>>5242094
You lean towards the doctor and scream again, hoping to maybe catch him by surprise. He flinches, swears and stumbles backwards; other than that, there are no further effects.

You feel a bit dizzy, probably as a result of the injection. The grunts try to push you down on the table again, but before they can put any real efforts into it another impact shakes the room. It's much more violent than the last one.

>Try to keep your balance (roll 1d100)

>Let yourself fall to the floor, one or both assailants along with you

>Other

Rolled 70 (1d100)

>>5242108
>>Try to keep your balance (roll 1d100)

Rolled 2 (1d3)

You brace yourself to stay on your feet, but one of the men grabbing you crashes to the corrugated metal floor, dragging both of you down. Another thud behind the table, accompanied by a pained yelp, signals that the cowering doctor was also swept off his feet. A multitude of small items, almost all of them medical supplies, rains down upon you. Among the collection are some sharp scalpel blades, which cut you up a bit. (1d3 damage)

A moment of silence follows - you realize that the hum you heard until now has ceased.

The thug that managed to stay upright pounds on the walls. “Why the hell are we stopping?!” As a response, you hear a peculiar noise outside: someone is having fun with either a bunch of firecrackers, or with automatic firearms. Given the situation, you wouldn’t bet on the former.

The hum of the engine (you’re fairly sure it’s an engine by now) roars back to life one last time, then falls silent. A few moments later a hail of bullets pierces the wall, shredding the space you were standing in ten seconds ago. All you hear now is shooting and screaming; the body of your other opponent falls lifelessly at your feet, the syringe-happy doctor following right on top of him, filled with holes.

You can still hear someone screaming: it is not you nor the bastard that you fell along with, so you guess the other medic is still alive.

The remaining thug, still on the floor, is noisily fumbling with something behind you.

>lay down flat on the floor and make yourself as small a target as possible.

>rummage through the stuff on the floor to look for a weapon.

>turn around to look at whatever the guy behind you is doing.

>Other (remember that original player choice and/or RP is encouraged, and rewarded when applicable. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.)

>>5242201
>other
>search for a door and try to escape

>>5242206
Would you like to stand up first or search while crawling?

>>5242220

Search and crawl

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26 KB JPG

>>5242233
You start looking for a way out of this mess. It isn't hard, really: the closest side of the rectangular room sports a rather obvious double door, not unlike the ones found in shipping containers. Except this one also has handles on the inside, thankfully.

Now, the only thing standing between you and probable freedom is the angry armed dude behind you. Also, you would like to avoid getting your head blown off a lead storm if you stand up at the wrong time.

What do you do?

>>5242275
Grab one of the scalpels that fell on us and drive it into the other guy as hard as we can.

>>5242275
Grab one of the scalpels that fell on us and drive it into the other guy as hard as we can.

File: scalpel.png (155 KB, 615x300)

155 KB PNG

>>5242285
>>5242282
You discreetly grab a scalpel from the floor, then roll on your side while stabbing as hard as you can...

roll 1d100 to see how (and if) the strike connects.

Rolled 42 (1d100)

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54 KB JPG

>>5242602
Your blind stab finds its target: after a brief resistance, the sharp surgical blade sinks down in the man’s stomach. A small stream of blood immediately runs down the handle and onto your hands.

Raising your eyes, you are met with a dumbfounded stare. He opens his mouth as if to say something, then he closes it yet again. One of his hands immediately runs to put pressure on the wound; the other is tugging at something stuck under his body. Following the movement, you see he’s grasping at the grip of his weapon, which seems to have gotten pinned under him after he fell.

You think it would be best to hide behind something before he points that thing at you.

Rolling 1d2 for upcoming events.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>5242625
Am retarded, forgot roll.

I throw myself onto his body, pinning him to the ground. I stab his stomach again and again, while I keep his arms still with my knees.

Rolled 62 (1d100)

>>5242629
Roll for it.

Rolled 65 (1d100)

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29 KB JPG

>>5242821
You draw backwards, crouch, and toss all your weight upon your hapless victim. You easily pin his weapon arm under your knee (seeing as he already did half the job himself by trying to recover the firearm stuck underneath his body) and do likewise with the other one.

The scalpel is brought down three times: the first stab to the abdomen is marked by a shriek from the dark-clothed man, the second by a gurgle, and the last one is accompanied by silence. Adrenaline has momentarily robbed you of all sense of guilt or mercy, and when the blade is raised a fourth time for the coup-de-grace you almost filter out the groan of the heavy door opening behind you. Almost, but not quite.

>Turn around.

>Finish off you opponent.

>Other

>>5242989
>Finish off your opponent

>>5242989
>Turn around.

>>5243095
The scalpel plunges one last time in the man’s throat, causing his last breath to come out as a peculiar wheeze. For a brief moment of clarity, you stare at your own bloody hands, taking in the enormity of having ended a life.

Then your world flips upside down as you are lifted off your feet from behind and get pushed against the ceiling. It’s as if a gigantic hand is seizing you with titanic strength.
Only you can’t actually see any arm or feel any fingers. Just an overwhelming pressure against your back, pushing you upwards.

You hear someone entering the room, bringing a sudden gust of cold air in with them. A small, pitiful whimper finds its way to your ears, and you assume the second doctor is still alive and somewhat well in his corner. You awkwardly turn your head, cheek against the metal ceiling, to at least steal a sidelong glance at the new arrival.

“That one’s still alive. Shut him up and bring him to the van.” The voice belongs to a head of black hair (that’s all you can see, stuck as you are), and is unmistakably a woman’s. The man accompanying her (bald head) nods with a grunt and starts towards the medic.

Black Hair then raises her face to look at you. She’s young (you would put her at twenty years old) with a round face and dark, slightly upturned eyes. She whistles.

“Fuck me. Jules, look at that. It’s a type one.”

You have no idea what she means. You have also no time to ponder her words, as the pressure behind your back disappears and you land back down on the metal table, exactly where you started this confusing journey.

The girl peers down on you, with a surprised expression on her face. Then her thin lips curve in a devilish smile.
“I guess this is your welcome to Alaska, buddy. You’re lucky we found you.”

>>5243145
>"WHAT THE FUCK?! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!"

>>5243145
>rip her skull out

>>5243173
>>5243309
really leaning into the murder hobo thing huh

>>5243145
>"Alaska? Fuck, shoulda just let them kill me."

>>5243145
>>"Alaska? Fuck, shoulda just let them kill me."

>>5243548
>>5243538
+1

>>5243341
I was going more for adrenaline rush confusion

>>5243538
>>5243548
>>5243593
She raises her eyebrow, clearly not expecting a joke in your situation, but then chuckles.

"It isn't that bad. We've got snow and a whole lot of nothing, and the snow's melting."

She takes half a step back and offers you a gloved hand to get up.

"Name's Amy, by the way."

Her partner in crime walks over to the other side of the table, carrying a gagged, weakly struggling doctor on his shoulders.

"Let's get outta here 'fore they figure cargo's not coming." He speaks quickly, practically beginning voicing the next word before the previous is over. He then steps out the door.

"We can keep chatting in the van. Maybe get you cleaned up. You look like a mess."

She flexes her finger, as if inviting you to grab her hand.

>I drag myself off the table, I stand up, but I refuse her hand. Instead, I lightly slap it away and I ask:
- Usually I would accept, but my mum taught me not to trust strangers, so... why should I go with you? -

>>5243835
You clumsily stand up, and gently hit her extended hand with yours.

“Usually I would accept, but my mum taught me not to trust strangers, so... why should I go with you?”

She stares at you, clearly annoyed.

“Well, if you like the prospect of being stuck on the highway at 27 degrees with nothing but that cute little gown, be my guest. Also, this place will be swarming in corporate goons in a few hours at most. But I guess they’ll be good conversation.”

You shoot a look towards the entrance. The sun has already set and you can’t see all that well beyond the doorway, but there really seems to be a highway stretching before you. The hum and jostling until five minutes ago suddenly make sense: you are in some kind of vehicle.

“In all seriousness, for the good of everyone present, I suggest we leave as fast as we can. Back at base we have warm clothes, showers, food…” Amy starts raising a fingers for each item on her list. “And most importantly, we can keep you reasonably safe.”

“What’re you waitin’ for? Let’s go!” you hear the bald one scream outside.

Amy nods towards the exit. “Come on.”
She starts to walk away.

>>5244261
>Follow
>Ask what you are

>>5244261
>Follow
>Examine black spots on arms

>>5244261
>>Follow
>>Examine black spots on arms

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31 KB JPG

>>5244397
>>5244416
>>5244511
You follow after her, stepping down from the metal floor and onto the asphalt. Once outside you turn around to check on where you were kept until now: it seems the 'room' was just an unassuming container loaded on a shipping truck.

The air is chilling - the hospital gown is obviously doing nothing to protect you. Amy is walking to the front of the truck, and you hurry to match her stride. A van soon comes into view, stopped right in the middle of the highway, rear doors wide open and waiting for you; the doctor and baldie (you think Amy called him Jules earlier) are already inside, the former sat gagged, bound and blindfolded on the floor.

Once everyone is in, 'Jules' shifts in the driver seat and Amy closes the doors behind her. There are no seats besides the two at the front, so you sit down with your back to the wall, a fair distance away from the doctor that is now quietly sobbing.

You notice that the black uneven spots on your arms and hands seem smaller. You brush your finger against one: it feels hard, but not pliable like a scab or scar. It feels like an actual piece of rock growing on your skin. You feel surprising calm at the discovery, maybe owing to the insane chain of events you just went through.

Suddenly, your vision goes black and feel something fall on your head. Panic threatens to overcome for an instant, but once you pull away the offending object you find out it's just a blanket. Amy towers over you (a feat only achievable if you are sitting, sinceshe's quite a bit shorter) with a grin on her face.

"That's all we have on us, sorry. We expected an actual corporate supply truck, so we removed everything from the van, even the seats, to make space for actual stuff." She sits down in front of you cross-legged, staring intently at your face and seemingly ignoring the other, unfortunate occupant.

"Yup, nobody told anythin' 'bout human cargo." Interjects Jules while turning on the engine. The vehicle shudders to life and starts moving forward.

"So... you know anything about these?" You gesture at the scabs with one hand. Your head is swimming a bit, and you can't tell if it's the earlier injection or just shock crashing down on you. "Or have any idea why I was merrily being abducted to Alaska? Christ, I just shattered steel manacles earlier, killed somebody..."

The girl puts a hand forward to stop the imminent panic attack.

"Pipe down. Let's start from the easy stuff..." she sighs and rests the back of her head against the wall. "The short of it is you're a mutant. Like me, Jules there, and the rest of our happy little club. You were getting sent to an Asgard Corporation lab, which is where pieces of shit like this..." she turns and points at the doctor, "have their fun with us. Any questions?"

You can practically feel your eyes bulging out of your sockets. "Are you for real? I HAVE NOTHING BUT QUESTIONS!"

She sighs again. "Fine, let's take it slow. The last thing you remember?"

>>5244528
Stay your horses, people. Backstory post incoming, even a bit of chargen and stats.

File: Firebat_SCR_HeadAnim.gif (2.74 MB, 224x240)

2.74 MB GIF

Well, OP, in the words of picrel . . .
"You got my attention.

>>5244528
You take a deep breath, close your eyes, and think back.
The last thing you remember before your surprise Alaskan vacation is fire; your apartment in Toronto catching fire, in fact. With you in it.

One evening you saw the building next to yours suddenly burst into flames from your window. You had scarcely the time to step away and reach for the phone, then black smoke started seeping in your room.

It exploded. You don’t know how or why, you just watched that smoke [i]explode[/i] and set everything ablaze. You recall rolling down the stairs while burning and barreling onto the street, half blind, then nothing. Next, you found yourself strapped down to a table in a truck.

Strangely, you don’t seem to have even an inch of burned skin on your body. Only the black scabs.

Before that there is the basic stuff. The date is March 2082, your name is Gabriel Cole (middle name Harris, but you never liked having a middle name, damn your parents), 23 years-old Canadian living in Toronto having done absolutely nothing to draw the ire or even the attention of a megacorporation like Asgard – you know the name, they are huge in the medical field and apparently one of the biggest players on the global scene with hands in all kinds of business, but that’s all you can think off the top of your head. You are no megacorp expert.

You’re 5’9’’ with auburn hair ([b]specify length, nothing too crazy[/b]), grey eyes and an oval face sporting only a short stubble of facial hair. You look pretty young; some might even say baby-faced. You would generally like to punch these people in the mouth.

As for work, you…

>Recently finished taking stuntman courses. This stuff happened before you could land your first gig, but you know how to take a fall. Theoretically. (+5 Agility)

>Were a freelance programmer. Not very experienced, but you can chew numbers and languages decently enough. (+5 Intelligence)

>Worked in a comic book store. You were one of the less sweaty and non neckbeardy people, and have learned the awesome power of being capable of sustaining conversations with full-on nerds, “normal” people (no such thing exists in your experience) and everything in between. (+5 Charisma)

>Stats are Strength, Agility, Intelligence and Charisma. All are 10 base except for Strength, starting at 20. These modify the target Difficulty of your rolls.

You feel exhausted and have some scalpel cuts on your upper back, even though the pain is dull right now.

>You may now speak/act.

>>5244586
And you're making me a very happy QM, my friend. Sorry for the time between updates and changing IDs, but the internet has decided to be shitty right when things got good.

I've resorted to posting via phone data roaming, the bane of my existance.

>>5244626
So we are a pyro strongman mutant huh? What destructive bugger aren't we.

>Recently finished taking stuntman courses. This stuff happened before you could land your first gig, but you know how to take a fall. Theoretically. (+5 Agility)

>>5244626
>>Recently finished taking stuntman courses. This stuff happened before you could land your first gig, but you know how to take a fall. Theoretically. (+5 Agility)
>I was at home. I had just woken up to get a cup of water and feed my cat when I smelled smoke, as I ran to the window I watched the warehouse next to me detonate. I didn't know what to do except grab my cat Fish and run out the door, after that there was another explosion and I woke up in the back of David Ray Parkers fucking van!

>>5244626
>specify length, nothing too crazy
BOWL CUT
WE LOOK LIKE A DWEEB

>Worked in a comic book store. You were one of the less sweaty and non neckbeardy people, and have learned the awesome power of being capable of sustaining conversations with full-on nerds, “normal” people (no such thing exists in your experience) and everything in between. (+5 Charisma)
Something to help smooth over the autistic write ins we're sure to get

I can back saying this >>5244671
but mention the exploding smoke
the smoke that exploded

>>5244626

>Recently finished taking stuntman courses. This stuff happened before you could land your first gig, but you know how to take a fall. Theoretically. (+5 Agility)

>specify length, nothing too crazy

Super short, an induction cut

>Recently finished taking stuntman courses. This stuff happened before you could land your first gig, but you know how to take a fall. Theoretically. (+5 Agility)

>>5244671
+1
The cat is important.

>>5244710
>>5245386
We need a tiebreaker on the haircut then.

Update coming in a couple hours.

>>5245502
Bowl cut

>>5244641
>>5244903
You recently finished taking stuntman courses. This stuff happened before you could land your first gig, but you know how to take a fall. Theoretically.

>Stats: Strength (20), Agility (15), Intelligence (10), Charisma (10)

>Mutation: Superhuman strength? Black scabs (details unknown)

You have a bowl cut. You lost a bet with some asshole friends and had to get one; it’s not BAD BAD… but you can’t say it looks good either.

>>5244710
>>5244671
"Last thing? I was at home. I had just woken up to get a cup of water and feed my cat when I smelled smoke, as I ran to the window I watched the warehouse next to me detonate. I didn't know what to do except grab my cat Fish and run out the door, after that some kinda smoke blew up my room and I woke up in the back of David Ray Parkers fucking van!”

You really hope Fish is okay. The little prick has always been very vocal, so you’re certain he wasn’t in the truck with you earlier; he would have meowed everyone’s ears off.

Amy shrugs. “I’m sure Asgard had agents in your area. They probably heard something go boom, came to check things out, saw your black stuff and pulled some strings to get you to a ‘specialized treatment center’.”

“You think they had something to do with the fire?” The new information is sending your brains on overdrive. “Maybe that smoke was some mad scientist weapon of theirs, I don’t think normal smoke just ignites like that.”

She ponders your theory for a bit. You notice she rubs her fingers together when concentrating. “Can’t exactly rule it out, but we never encountered something like that. And while they can be really fucking high profile sometimes, I can tell you of about a million other ways to make someone disappear without raising hell in the middle of a city.” She finishes her sentence by snapping her index and thumb with a sound. The sudden noise makes the doctor twitch and yelp.

“Oh don’t worry, doc ‘ere will tell us all ‘bout it back home. We know how to make ’em talk.” Jules turns around to look at the man curled up on the floor. He starts sobbing a bit louder.

“Watch the road.” The girl curtly admonishes him.

Jules grunts and returns his focus on driving the van. You perceive the vehicle turning, and judging by the shaking you must have gotten off the highway and on a much rougher route.

>>5245829
>Are you guys like the brotherhood of evil mutants except not evil?

>>5245829
>>Are you guys like the brotherhood of evil mutants except not evil?

>>5246231
>>5246262
“Are you guys like the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants except not evil?” You got bunched together with a bunch of murderous weirdos, might as well have fun with it.

“The what now?” Amy doesn’t seem to get the reference.

Jules laughs. “Way less flashy ‘n’ just as crazy. This is ol’ school comics things lady, looks like our guy’s a man o’ culture.” You could swear he just said all of that in one breath, somehow.

“Whatever. We got some real assholes back home, but I wouldn’t call anyone evil. You’ll see soon enough.” She stretches her legs, yawns and seemingly dozes off. After a few seconds though, she opens one eye back up, looking at you. “What did you say your name was, again?”

>Give her your name.

>Don’t.

>>5246858
>Give her your name.
and ask how crazy mutie powers tend to get
how many are part of their group
if the megacorps just want to dissect and study us or if there's some other connection there

>>5247008
>>5246858

Support

>>5244634
Noo, QM. Don't rush yourself with phoneposting. Trust me, we're all comfortable waiting for you to get computer access to update. Don't burn yourself out.

>>5247015
>>5247008
“I’m Gabriel. Gabriel Cole.”

“Gabriel. Gab, Gabe… mind if I call you Cole? Sounds better.” At least she’s not calling you Harris.

You shrug, “So, Amy, I’m apparently a mutant now. How do our… powers work? Are there many of us?”

“You’ll pick up the details of your abilities with time and practice, I can only explain the general aspects.” She pauses and averts her gaze for a bit, rubbing fingers the whole time. It’s almost hypnotic. “Basically, we know about two kinds of mutants thus far. Type ones, or Blackypes; and type twos, or Colortypes.”

“She’s made up the names herself, y’know. Asgard only uses ‘type one’ ‘n’ ‘type two’.” Your driver points out.

“Because they’re unimaginative pricks. Shut up and drive, Jules.” The girls flips him off. Any trace of drowsiness has disappeared from her expression. “

“Blackypes are fairly rare and have the black stuff, like you. They can produce that substance within their bodies and manipulate it in different manners: I know of a guy who can harden and vibrate his so fast it cuts clean through metal; another could control tendrils so small and accurate, he was like a walking set of precision tools. Blackies also tend to be stronger than normal – something about the black stuff enhancing muscles and reinforcing the bones so they don’t snap while flexing your superbrawn – and regenerate injuries quickly. The spots you got everywhere? That’s you healing the burns from the fire, I bet.”

Looking at the scabs, they seem to have gotten even smaller than before. You instinctively run a finger across the side of your face, and find the same hard texture just below the left eye. If you got a burn under there, it doesn’t even hurt.

“We Colortypes are the more common breed. Our powers are less… physical.” She holds out one hand. Hovering three inches above it is something you can best describe as a transparent, pinkish, smooth tentacle writhing through the air. As you focus on the ethereal manifestation, another one appears right in front of your face and pokes you in the forehead; it feels exactly like a solid object. Amy giggles.

“It’s kind of like telekinesis. It’s less well understood than your capabilities, and varies much more from person to person; I can only do the tentacly thing, for example. We don’t get kickass strength or regeneration, but we do tend to be sharper than the rest.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest and raises her chin proudly. “The manifestation’s color is also unique to each of us, so we are obviously cooler.”

>>5247443
A flash of insight runs through your brain. “Is that what pinned me against the ceiling back in the truck?”

“Sure was. Want to go for another ride?” You can see her practically glowing with pride. Something tells you she is very confident in her powers.

“Hey, not when I’m drivin’.” Jules snaps.

“And how many are there in your group?”

Amy shoots a glance at the doctor. He has fallen silent and immobile.

“Can’t talk about that with doc listening.” She quickly scoots over to you and leans in close to whisper in your ear; from this close, you can’t help but notice her hair smells good. What she says next wipes the giddiness from your mind, though.

“Not that he’s going to talk to anybody after they’re through with him, but better safe than sorry.”

You could interpret that in a few ways, none of them good.

“Y-yeah…” you mutter nervously. She moves back in front of you, a satisfied smile on her lips.

“One thing is for certain; we could be many more if the fucking corporation stopped rounding us up for the labs.”

“Why do they do that? Classic megacorp shady business?” You remember all the corrupt and sinister stuff corporations have done just in your lifespan, and it makes you feel better about the unfortunate fate of the captive.

“That’s the main reason, yes. Unethical research, human testing, all that jazz.” She stops and twists her lips in a frown. “There’s also the fact that us Colortypes are kinda contagious… sometimes… to normal people. They don’t want the mutation to spread, I guess.” When uttering this, her voice has none of her usual bravado.

>>5247410
Thank you. I will try to limit the amount of phoneposting.

That should be it for infodumpy stuff. Unless you want to ask about more topics or interact, I can fast forward the rest of the van trip.

Unfortunately I won't be able to write until Sunday. Don't worry, I am not disappearing. This is my first QM experience and it's been too much fun for me to abandon ship, thanks to you all.

If you want to make use of this pause, please post about what you liked/didn't like and want to see more/less. I will be still checking the thread

>>5247445
>Are all color types telekinetics, or are there telepaths?

>I assume there's never been a double type

As for feedback, could you end updates with at least a >wat do
just so it's clear there aren't more story posts incoming

>>5247462
+1
especially the clarification

>>5247456
I'm liking your writing so far. Much better than my own, admittedly. Not sure how long you've been writing, but it has flow.

>>5247462
Backing this for next update.

I'm back and ready to write, will update shortly.

>>5247462
I'll make sure to include some kind of prompt when requiring player input then. I stopped after the first few posts because I like to encourage write-ins, as I already mentioned, but you do have a point.

>>5248435
Thank you! It's been a while since I last wrote a story, so I am de-rusting my skills. Also, first time doing it in English.

>>5247462
“Are all Colortypes telekinetics, or are there telepaths? Also, I assume there's never been a double type.”

Amy perks up at your question. “Every type two I know is telekinetic in some way, never heard about telepaths… would be cool, though. And no double-types either, but they’ve been talked about in the past. Our eggheads say we don’t have enough data about the mutations for a definite yes or no, but I’m sure Asgard scientists know a lot more.”

On the last part, she stares expectantly at the prisoner.

>Thank her for the information and wait until you arrive at the destination.

>Ask something else.

>Other.

>>5250625
>Thank her for the information and wait until you arrive at the destination.
We can digest that info before further interrogation

>>5250625
>>Thank her for the information and wait until you arrive at the destination.

Btw, I realized this weekend that we lack a Perception stat. We have now Perception (10)

>>5250838
>>5251190
“Thanks for clearing things up. It’s all still a blur, but now at least I get the gist of it.”

“No problem. You’ve got to know these things if you want to pull your weight.” The girl lays down, unbothered by the cold and uncomfortable van floor. “Now do me a favor and keep an eye on doc while I catch up on some sleep.” Before you have time to respond, she cushions her head against her arms and starts softly snoring. It’s a cartoonish, quite comical sight; if only you didn’t feel so drained, you’d have trouble holding back laughter.

The rest of the trip is uneventful. The captive has grown quiet, slightly shifting position every once in a while or weakly struggling against the ropes. After maybe an hour (or two, you are not sure), night has fully descended and the vehicle stops. Jules tells you to stay inside while he “hands off the cargo, dragging the doctor outside kicking and crying against the gag.

You can hear him arguing outside with a woman you cannot see. She apparently “expected supplies” and “is not willing to take more risks”; you don’t even try to decipher Jules’ machinegun barrage of words. Amy wakes up to poke her head out and scream at her to “stop being a bitch and do the goddamn job”, then going immediately back to dreamland.

You are perfectly content to stay where you are, eyes darting back and forth in a mixture of about 70% confusion, 20% acceptance and 10% terror. Headlights shine in the windshield as someone, presumably the mystery woman, drives off: the only thing they illuminate is a dirt road and some sparse patches of melting snow amid very short vegetation.

Jules gets back in the driver seat, slamming the door behind him and mumbling under his breath. The journey resumes without a (comprehensible) word, now with only the three of you. There are no further stops until you reach the final one. You have no idea how long it took, and are increasingly concerned by the temperature dropping beneath the blanket’s ability to keep you warm.

You watch as a lonely building resembling a warehouse comes out of the darkness. Amy must have felt the ride slowing down, as she sits back up with a shake of the head. “We there yet?”

“Yup.” Your driver responds.

The girl gestures at you to stay sat, as she gets out and opens a garage door. Jules maneuvers around and enters the structure in reverse.

Once you stop and the handbrake is set the back doors open, revealing Amy’s silhouette backlit by bright tube lights.

“Now come out and follow me. Keep your head down, don’t go wandering and if you see someone, pretend they’re not there. Keep the blanket on.”
>Do as you are told.

>Follow her, but try to take a look around while she has her back turned.

>Sprint past her.

>Other

>>5251298
>Follow her, but try to take a look around while she has her back turned.

Semi rebellious

Rolled 8 (1d100)

>>5251361
Roll Perception (1d100)

Rolled 78 (1d100)

>>5251373

File: rock solid.jpg (549 KB, 1936x1296)

549 KB JPG

>>5251408
Blanket clutched tightly against your body, you trot behind Amy like a good boy… but the moment she is not looking, your eyes run all around the building interior.

Well, it’s a far cry from the super-secret batcave you’ve been expecting. Top to bottom, it looks 100% the part of a standard warehouse or depot: some corners are occupied by machinery, and you even spot a small excavator fitted with a drill at the end of its arm; the walls are lined with shelves stacked high with boxes and crates. You read the words printed on the side of the closest one, in big, capital letters: ‘BLUESTONE GOLD MINING’.

You are taken aback by the spectacle. It is easy to forget that in the world you lived in until now, where kids with their latest fancy hovercraft boards ride down street overflowing with holo-ads literally inviting them to shop in their stores, the gritty reality of heavy labor still exists. Especially in Bumfuck of Nowhere, Alaska-

Your musings are interrupted by a painful, vice-like pressure on your arm. You are jerked forward, almost losing your balance as you stumble.

“I said ‘keep your head down’ and ‘follow me’, didn’t I?” Amy hisses at you. She must not have appreciated your momentary distraction.

She pulls you along, still grasping your arm like a pissed off mother with a tantruming child. Someone snickers behind you: it’s Jules, who apparently finds the scene very amusing. You scurry behind a tall stack of crates on the far side of the warehouse, down a ramp, then turn the corner to descend a narrow flight of stairs. At the end there’s a reinforced steel door. Amy stops there, gazing at a spot above it.

After a few seconds, you hear a deep voice marred by electronic reverb. It’s probably coming from a small speaker in the vicinity.

“Password?”

“Cut it out, stupid.” Miss Iron Grip rolls her eyes, but her face opens up in slightly annoyed smile.

The words she uttered were either the password or convinced the voice that you did not need one. The door unlocks with a loud click, and you are quickly dragged inside.

“NOW we can relax.” She sighs with relief. “Welcome to your new home for the time being, Cole buddy. I can send you down to get a good night’s rest before they begin with the questions or, God forbid, you do.”

You are in a very small, bare room. The only feature it sports is another set of stairs going down.

>Take up on her offer, sleep and reflect.

>What questions?

>Might as well ask something now.

>Other

>>5251648
>What questions?

>Might as well ask something now.

"Isn't this your base? Why the need to smuggle me in here?"

>>5251685
>>5251648
+1

>>5251648
>>Take up on her offer, sleep and reflect.

>>5251685
+ 1

>>5251685
>>5251687
>>5252068
"What questions? And why smuggle me in here if the place is yours?"

"Can't exactly bring people down here openly. The mining company up there is our front, but the less workers see us, the smoother things go. Also, the whole 'we're kinda contagious' thing." Amy releases you from her formidable grip.

"An' for the questionin', 's just a little... job interview, might say." Jules smiles reassuringly at you, then descends down the steps. "I'd worry more 'bout the question'r if I were you!"

That was less reassuring.

"Oh yeah, Marcus can be a little intense." Amy groans and puts a hand to her forehead. "Listen, just come with me. I'll get you a quiet place to rest, a shower, some actual clothes... maybe arrange you a meeting with someone a little nicer tomorrow morning."

"Jesus, is this dude going to tie me to a chair and shine a light in my face or what?" You are starting to wonder if going with the megacorp wouldn't have been the better idea.

"Oh, come on. He can be difficult to deal with, that's all."

>You could use a rest.

>Insist on setting up the "interview", get it over with.

>Other

>>5252211
>Insist on setting up the "interview", get it over with.
Let's make sure we aren't joining mutant ISIS

>>5252247
Backing
>Insist on setting up the "interview", get it over with.
If we do end up joining mutant ISIS what are the odds it can actually get CIA funding?

>>5252247
>>5252315
“You know what? Let’s do this, I’m ready for the ‘interview’.” Getting a clue on how these people operate is your current priority. Sticking it to the megacorps is fine and dandy in your book, but better make sure you are not about to run with a bunch of super-terrorists, first.

Your companion stares at you with eyes wide open and eyebrows shot up, but the corners of her mouth curve lightly downwards. “Fuck me, you’re one tough son of a bitch, you know that? I’m not going to stop you, but let’s at least get you clean and changed first.”

She guides you below. You find yourself in a concrete hallway lit by LED tubes, installed on the ceiling at regular intervals; the walls are bare like the small room above you, but the greyish monotony is interrupted by some doors.
Most importantly there are people here, and they look quite busy. You bump into four or five in the corridor, while others stride out of rooms and around corners like ants in their colony.
Amy enthusiastically greets many of them by waving, fist-bumping and high-fiving. You catch some curious stares, although no one seems particularly surprised; they have no unifying trait, each wearing different clothing and varying in ethnicity. The age range is not especially wide though: most of them look in the late twenties or thirties, with one or two maybe in their forties. Your chaperone is definitely the youngest you saw.

She leads you to a door and shoves you inside, sending you straight into a small dressing room. Her black-haired head pokes in, peering impishly with a pair of deep brown eyes.

“I’ll bring some new clothes while you’re in the shower. Enjoy!” as soon as the girl disappears, you are quick to slip out of your sorry rags and douse weary bones under hot water. In the meanwhile, the scabs have almost disappeared: the largest is barely the size of your pinky fingernail.

When you get out after washing grime and blood off of you, you find a bag with a clean change of clothes: underwear, socks, undershirt, a warm pair of pants and grey sweater. The underground shelter’s heating is on point, finally dispelling the constant chill that accompanied you during the long day. You don the provided cheap pairs of sneakers and go outside, renewed.

Amy is waiting outside, leaning against the wall.

“I’ve already sent word. Marcus, the dude who manages personnel around here, is ready to see you. Just remember that there’s no reason to be intimidated, he is mostly all bark.”

“Mostly?”

She shrugs. “Push comes to shove, as a Blackie you can always knock him out cold. Just don’t go full force and punch his head off.” She stops, narrowing her eyes, and smiles. “Actually, if you can make it look like an accident, please do get me rid of the bloody asshole.”

You are mostly sure she is joking.

>>5252936
You are taken on the level below – there are three in total, so Amy tells you – and ushered into another room, with just a slap on the back and a ‘good luck’ to keep you company. It is almost empty, save for a rectangular table in the center and a single chair. Screaming for you attention, however, is the dark-skinned man standing in the middle of the chamber.

He is built like the proverbial brick shithouse – big, broad-shouldered and with no shortage of muscle mass, wearing long olive cargo pants and a black jacket. He gazes unflinchingly at you, even while gesturing towards the chair.

“Please, sit.” It sounds less like a request and more like a command.

You now regret not having tested that supposed super-strength of yours.

>Sit in the chair.

>Keep standing (stay near to the door/get closer to him?).

>Approach and introduce yourself.

>Other.

>>5252939
>Other.
>Approach the seat and test it with your foot as if you expect it to break, see if it phases the man before sitting, or breaks the chair, which can be apologized for.

>>5252939

>>Other.
>>Approach the seat and test it with your foot as if you expect it to break, see if it phases the man before sitting, or breaks the chair, which can be apologized for.

>>5252939
>Approach and introduce yourself.
what up homie

>>5252939
>Other
Rape
>>5253019
alternatively this

>Approach and introduce yourself.

"Good... evening?"

>>5253023
>>5253019
You know what, roll for strenght. Let's see you dose it right.

Rolled 60 (1d100)

>>5253717
Hopefully we don't break it.

You step towards the seat, putting your hands on the backrest. Remembering Amy’s and Jules’ comments on this guy, you put a little pressure on the cheap metal, fearing some kind of sabotage. The chair holds, so you do on the seat with your foot. It takes it like no problem, looks like a solid piece of cheap furniture.

You raise your eyes, crossing the man’s gaze. He does not even hint at breaking eye contact.

“Why did you do that?” The flatness of his gravelly voice carries no surprise, curiosity or reproach. It’s a perfectly neutral inquiry about your behavior.

>Respond.

>Other.

>>5253725
Looks like you reined the big guns in, this time.

>>5253876
>Respond and take the seat.
>"Probably because I'm sane enough to question if a budget chair is gonna hold me when I woke ripping through steel cuffs and screaming fifty decibels louder than even I'm comfortable with. It's been a weird and very uncomfortable morning."

>>5253876
>Respond and take the seat.
>"Probably because I'm sane enough to question if a budget chair is gonna hold me when I woke ripping through steel cuffs and screaming fifty decibels louder than even I'm comfortable with. It's been a weird and very uncomfortable morning."

>>5253902
>>5253962
"Probably because I'm sane enough to question if a budget chair is gonna hold me when I woke ripping through steel cuffs and screaming fifty decibels louder than even I'm comfortable with. It's been a weird and very uncomfortable morning." You say while sitting down. Your throat is still kind of sore about all the screaming.

The man nods. “I see. You are not yet accustomed to your new nature, then.” He narrows his eyes and looks down at you. He did not take a seat, and from your perspective he looks very imposing; his height may very well be in the ballpark of 6’3’’.

“I will be honest with you, Gabriel.” It seems as he was informed on more than your presence. “This base is the very forefront of our group’s conflict with Asgard corporation. Everyone here is a resource of both skill and experience, which you lack… in your newfound capabilities, at least. What did you do before finding yourself in these circumstances? What can you bring to the table?”

>Be honest.

>Lie (Charisma check, difficulty depends on the lie itself).

>Ask if you can’t simply go back home instead.

>Other.

>>5254033
>Be honest.

But also ask what his group can do for us
aside from rescuing us from being dissected and all that

>>5254033
>>Be honest.

>>5254033
>Be honest.

>>5254044
>>5254068
>>5254164
“I was, uhm, preparing to become a stuntman…” You answer not without some embarrassment, but at least it is the honest truth.

“A stuntman…” His monotone does not betray any emotion, but you interpret the slight twist of his mouth as disappointment. “I don’t think you are fit for a role in here. You could certainly be of use somewhere else in the region, but not with our cell.”

At those words, you feel the heat of shame and anger rise to your face.
“So, there are other places like this. But-”

“Not quite like this, no.” He cuts you off. “Securing this facility required a shift in our line of action and outside involvement. A big risk for a high reward… in comparison, other cells rely on simpler means, to accomplish easier tasks.”

“I wasn’t finished.” You put up one hand to interrupt. He does not seem to mind. “…But you only wanted to know what I can do for you, without a mention of what can your group do for me.”

His face softens, if just for an ever-so-slight smile; you did not expect such a reaction. You also notice that a long, horizontal scar runs across his left cheek, starting at the corner of his lips and ending just above where the ear is attached. It must have been quite the gruesome wound.

“Of course. In the short term, we can give you a place to stay, food, safety – at least, what our condition and mission permit – and a purpose. Looking at the future? The chance of living a normal life again, without the prospect of becoming a guinea pig looming over your head.”

>Respond to that.

>Stay silent.

>Other

>>5254290
>Respond to that.
> "That's the thing nobody bothered explaining. Ignoring legal cost, why exactly can't I just walk into a courtroom and press charges on that corp for abduction? What exactly did they want from me or your group? And most importantly why is your group the best shot I have of being able to get back into society without the target on my head."

>>5254290
>Respond

Do other cells in the region offer the same benefits? If not, what activities does this cell do? We might be a fit, he can't judge all our life experience based off just our occupation.

>>5254337
>why can't I sue a megacorp
>in a setting where megacorps are a thing
anon pls
we have common sense

>>5254466
There's a point to it. We need to know what the power structure in the world looks like. How far does megacorp. control go. How much of the rule of law is under their thumb. Is the threat assassination while trying the legal process or for the legal process to become a tool of detainment.

>>5254337
>>5254466
Personally I'd like to know what we are against and where is this guy sending us

>>5254481
That's all stuff our character should know rather than stuff we need to ask others for though

We already look goofy because we wanted to be a stuntman, we don't want to dig that hole any deeper.

>>5254337
>>5255076
>>5254466
I can offer you two options:
1) Ask about both megacorp stuff and info about the group.

2) Only ask about the group, see what you yourself know about megacorp influence and reach.

>>5255120
>Only ask about the group, see what you yourself know about megacorp influence and reach.

>>5255120
>2

>Only ask about the group, see what you yourself know about megacorp influence and reach.

>>5255120
2) Only ask about the group, see what you yourself know about megacorp influence and reach.

>>5255126
>>5255148
>>5255201
>>5255489
>About megacorps:

You know that pissing one off, in court or otherwise, is a very bad idea: at best they decide to "play fair" and throw armies of bloodthirsty lawyers at you, at worst you do something to seriously annoy them and get greeted by men in black.

It's also common knowledge that megacorps have close ties with national governments. You heard via the news that it's especially bad in the U.S., but even back in Canada you remember several big scandals that seemingly never resulted in any real investigations or consequence. Admittedly it was never something as serious as mass abduction and experimentation, but Asgard is a very big name; maybe they can get away with very big stuff.

>Back to your talk:

“Do other cells in the region offer the same benefits? If not, what activities does this cell do? I might be a fit, you can't judge all my life experience based off just occupation.” You’ll be damned if you came all the way here just to take another van trip God knows where.

“The main difference is facilities. Other cells have to make do with older or makeshift safehouses, not to mention less people and resources. As we aggressively pursue the destruction of corporate asset in the area, we get to enjoy the support of entities who also wish for Asgard’s downfall. This underground shelter is part of that support.”
You sense a hint of pride in his voice.
“And when I say ‘aggressive’, I mean it literally. We have started raiding their shipments, securing possible sources of information, ransacking local offices, cracking data systems… if you don’t have any skills that could be useful in such tasks, the most logical choice would be sending you to a more support-oriented group. We don’t even know if your mutant abilities hold enough potential to be useful for combat operations.”

>>5256155
Forgot prompts.

>Try to change his mind. (Write in + Charisma check)

>Cave and agree with him

>Other.

>>5256155
>Other.
>Ask if they have any means for learning what it is we can do ability wise. Testing chamber? isolated area? Fancy computer bullshit?

>>5256155
>Try to change his mind. (Write in + Charisma check)

Unless mutants are a lot more common than we imagined, wouldn't it make sense for him to at least test us before writing us off?

>>5256192
+1

>>5256192
>>5256213
>>5257271
“And there’s no way to test that? I got burned in a big fire and there’s not a scratch on me, it must count for something.”

He eyes you up and down. “We do have some sample analyzers, but they [i]obviously[/i] need a mutant tissue sample…” He wraps one hand over the other, the first gesture you saw him make since he first invited you to sit. “Let’s say I want to give you a possibility, Gabriel. If you manage to produce enough matter for a sample, I will consider it worth the time it takes to run it under the machine. What do you think?”

“You mean the black stuff?” You ask.

“Exactly. Just a few centimeters of it should suffice. A little tendril, a small blade… whatever you can make.” His stare pierces right through you; it feels as if he is issuing a challenge.

“But I don’t know how.”

“That is the point. By starting to get your powers under control in such a short time, you would reveal quite a bit of potential. Type ones normally take a few days to do it.” He smiles again, a little wider than before. This time you find it unpleasant.
>Try.

>Don’t.

>Other.

>>5257416
Forgot the trip. Holy fuck I'm out of it.

>>5257416
>Try.
Maybe we'll pull something off under stress?

Rolled 20 (1d100)

>>5257416
>Try.
dice for luck

>>5257416
>Try.

>>5257553
>>5257483
“All right, I’ll give it a try.” Now that you have reached this point, though, you are quite unsure on how to proceed.

The man steps past the chair and table, his sudden movement startling you.

“I will go find a sample tube. You have until I get back.” He leaves without turning around.

You remain alone for about a minute, focusing to bring forth the black substance, to no avail. Then you hear the door open.

You actually swear from relief when you see it is Amy: your time is not up yet. You stand up to greet her, but she rapidly waves her hands downwards, gesturing at you to stay in the chair.
“I kinda listened in, so let’s keep it short,“ she quickly glances behind her back, “No idea how Blackies work, but this one dude I used to know told me it was like willing your veins to move, and that doing it through the arms is easier the first few times. That’s all I know.” Before you can even open your mouth, she is halfway out of the room. “I’ll be nearby, break a leg.”

The door closes once again, leaving you to stare really hard at your arm, imagining how it would feel for your blood vessels to move around you body. Like something wriggling, or crawling? It is not a nice thought, but you try your best to transfer the sensation to the wrist.

At first, nothing changes.

Then, a small pressure on the inside of you forearm, just above the inside of the elbow. A chill runs down your spine as your skin is covered in goosebumps, and hairs stand on end.

Something is moving, uncoiling, just below the skin.

The feeling slowly slithers towards your hand as you guide it, like a live snake. There is no pain, but the experience is so completely [i]aberrant[/i] that you erupt in cold sweat and feel your stomach turn.

By the time it reaches the palm of your hand, pressing against the skin to come out, you are doing your utmost to suppress the urge to vomit.

You…

>Let out the tendril, trying to control to the best of your ability.

>Try to make it rigid and sharp, like a blade.

>Nope out, suppress the thing down into your body and pretend like nothing happened.

>Other.

Also roll me a Strength not to vomit.

>>5257497
Used your roll (forgot to specify I wanted one in the prompt, I am quite tired) and since you did it "for luck", you passed the check for a... lucky helping hand.

>>5257707
>Other.
>Rip the skin with bulging inflamed muscles, the black liquid seeping out forming into hardened Chitin.

Rolled 61 (1d100)

>>5257707

Rolled 90 (1d100)

>>5257738
Seconding this as the other option

>>5257707
>Let out the tendril, trying to control to the best of your ability.

Yo are these things safe to give out
Are they gonna have a map of our DNA
Maybe we should go to another site

Rolled 33 (1d100)

>>5257707
also rollin

File: 5C47BE12-3504-47A1-836B-0(...).jpg (224 KB, 1092x1600)

224 KB JPG

>>5257738
Support, lets try go full Alex Mercer armour mode. Might even be able to add weapons on later

Rolled 99 (1d100)

>>5257795
+1

>>5257738
+1
Nanomachines son

>>5257738
+1

File: baby's first.jpg (154 KB, 663x648)

154 KB JPG

For future reference; I choose the best roll out of the first three. If one of them happens to be a 100 you're shit out of luck.

>>5257738 >>5257738 >>5257739 >>5257773 >>5257795 >>5257796
>>5258088 >>5258340 >>5258640
You manage not to puke, but it seems that the process is not totally painless, after all. With one last push, the smooth worm-like shape rips out of the skin, finally exposed; you hiss through your teeth as a rivulet of blood runs down your wrist and drips to the floor. It soon stops as the tear is sealed by more black matter.

You need a minute to recover from the shock. While you try to calm down your violently pounding heart, the little tendril stands at the ready, immobile. It is no longer than two inches, tapering to a point, and it takes you a bit to realize it is effectively a part of your body that you can command.

You curve it left and right, and even make it elongate some more. Now that it is outside your arm, that horrible sensation is gone.

At the beginning you have to keep your eyes on it for accurate control, but in twenty seconds at most you feel confident enough to twirl it around your index finger without looking. You tap and pinch at it with your other hand: it is at the same time hard and flexible, and apparently with no sense of touch.

Attempting to dig into the tendril with your fingernails yields no result. Its toughness gives you an idea: you change the shape to a flat one, lying flush with the surface of you hand. More of the substance seeps out of the wound in a semi-liquid state, until it covers the whole palm; you feel hundreds of pinpricks sting your flesh as it attaches to the skin below. This new layer is similar to chitin, and you can even adjust its hardness on the fly if you want to clench your fist.

[b]You now know how to make some basic armored plating with your powers. HP up.[/b]

While you sit there all smug, the door behind you opens again. The approaching footsteps are much heavier than Amy’s.
Marcus returns to his position at the opposite side of the table, holding a small metallic cylinder and watching your hand intently.

“I see you have wasted no time.” He unscrews the top of the cylinder, which spews out a small puff of fog. Immediately after that, he grabs your wrist and sets your hand palm-up on the table. Just above it hovers a blueish blur.

“Keep still or you could lose a finger.”

>Pull back you hand (Agility check).

>Don’t move a muscle.

>Other.

>>5258042
Prototype was a fantastic game, nice one anon

>>5258865
Just realized I can't use formatting since I'm posting from a different computer. Ah well.

>>5258865
>Don’t move a muscle.
Would now be a bad time to start quoting Senator Armstrong?

>>5258865
>Don’t move a muscle.
Try to watch out for how his power manifests and operates as Marcus does whatever he does. Should take every opportunity to learn more about different abilities as we can

>>5258865
>Don’t move a muscle.

ooof
we lost our chance to question

>>5258865
>Don’t move a muscle.

>Don’t move a muscle.

Good morning and happy mother's day anons.

>>5258902
>>5259044
>>5259052
>>5259409
>>5259512
Your eyes almost fail to follow what happens next: the blur runs three times across your palm, then disappears. Marcus rapidly turns your hand upside down above the cylinder; a triangle-shaped piece of black tissue falls neatly inside. He releases your wrist, and you reabsorb the protective layer to check for any wounds: not even a scratch. Even the skin tear from before seemingly healed in the meantime.

“We are done here.” He screws the cap back on the container. “The results should take no longer than a few hours. Go and rest, in the morning we will know what to do with you.”

You stand up ready and eager to leave the room, but before you can leave he holds the sample out to you. “And give this to young Amanda. I saw her outside; she knows what to do with it.”

You take the small, cold object and leave the room. Amy is standing outside, a bit to the side of the door.

“So, how did it go?”

>Respond and give her the sample.

>Other.

>>5260170
>Respond and give her the sample.
>"I feel like I was left with more questions than answers. How long have things between you lot and the corp been going on that there's machines to analyze what just burst out of my arm?"

>>5260170
>Ask what kind of sample they just took. What can they do with it and what is it going to tell them about us?

>>5260176
>>5260198
“I feel like I was left with more questions than answers. What is this sample going to tell about me?”

“I’ll take that as a ‘it went fine, thank you’” Says Amy while taking the cylinder from you. “I don’t know what the analyzers will tell exactly, that’s a question for the folks down in the lab. There’s no test like that for us Colortypes, you see. You can ask them in like five minutes, if you are that curious.”

“And by the way, how long have things between you lot and the ‘corp been going on that there's machines to analyze what just burst out of my arm?”

She stares at you for a moment, completely still, looking like a deer in the headlights. Then she gives a small, nervous laugh and averts her gaze.

“Ten years, more or less. I was just a kid when things began. So are you, uh, coming along or not?” She points vaguely down the corridor, turning her back.

>Go with her to the labs (press her for answer or not?).

>Go sleep, it’s been a rough day.

>Other.

>>5260321
>Go with her to the labs (press her for answer or not?).
>More answers. We need to know what got swept into and why. If not from Amy then from someone who does know.

>>5260335
What exactly would you ask her?

>>5260321
>Go with her to the labs (press her for answer or not?).
Yes, what kinda stuff has she been doing for the past ten years? Hitting a lot of megacorp convoys? How many muties has she seen? She work with other Colorless before?

>>5260416
If this fight has been going on for around ten years or so then something has to have happened publically that the group was involved in. "If it's been ten year, was there any point this conflict went loud and public? Some kind of major news event?"

>>5260486
+1
Also, how has no news at all about humans developing superpowers got out in over a decade? how rare are mutants and without some way of being able to detect them how are the corpos keeping such a tight lid on it?

>>5261209
>>5260486
“If it's been ten years, was there any point this conflict went loud and public? Some kind of major news event?"

Amy shakes her head, then starts walking. “It’s been a “conflict” for a bit less than two, if that’s what you mean. Before that we hid, and ran when we felt Asgard breath down our necks.” You notice she’s clenching her fists. She changed out of her winter clothes to a black long-sleeved shirt, also removing her gloves; you can see her knuckles turn white. “But we did go public when things first started looking bad, oh yes we did. Look how nice that turned out.” You can practically feel the venom in her voice trying to burn a hole in your ears.

She doesn’t seem to be keen on talking about the past. You think it wise to change the topic a bit.

“I was just thinking that I never heard about people running around with superpowers all this time. Are mutants that rare, or have the ‘corps finally found a way to mess with our brains?” You can’t help but softly sigh in relief as the girl visibly deflates.

“Uh? No, they can’t do that yet… I think. Jesus, thanks for putting that on my mind.” She may be taking it as a half-joke, but you were serious. Her long fingers begin rubbing together as she thinks. “It’s just that we’re not that many. We have thirty-three – no, thirty-four counting you – here, and this is our biggest clubhouse by far. A rough worldwide estimate would be a little under two thousand, at best. A lot less if the corporation kills who they capture, after a while. Most of them are in the labs or with us, the rest probably have abilities weak enough to go unnoticed.”

The two of you turn a corner. At the end of the hallway there’s another set of descending stairs.
“Okay, but how can they keep a lid on it without some way of detecting us?”

“’Some way of detecting us?’” She arches an eyebrow. “Cole, you grow black shit on your skin within seconds of getting hurt. Imagine if that fire never took place and you got a nasty cut while cooking or something. Boom, black stuff, you panic all the way to the hospital, busted. I think they even made up a new type of skin cancer and broadcasted ads about it. Ever saw it?”

You remember something like that: a new type of virus targeting the skin and causing cancerous growths. The holo-ads outside pharmacies would talk about it pretty often, also telling you to call some number or another for specialist advice and therapy programs. Needless to say, you start drawing conclusions, and it probably shows on you face.

“Yeah you did. That was for finding Blacktypes. For us Colors it isn’t as simple, our cherry often pops quite… violently. If it happens in public, it’s no problem passing it off as some bomb, terrorist attack, shooting, whatever. And if there are few witnesses, I’m sure it’s quite simply to convince someone to shut up, or make them.”

>Continue to ask about her group's history.

>Talk about something else.

>Stop with the questions, for now.

>Other.

>>5260429
By Colorless you mean Blacktypes/Type ones?

>>5261540
>Stop with the questions, for now.
Friendly chit chat and getting this sample to the giganerds? Sounds better to me.

>>5261540
>Stop with the questions, for now.

>>5261541
Yeah, terminology updated

>>5261540
>Stop with the questions, for now.
+1 for friendly chit chat
>Other.
Idly play around with the black stuff, practicing getting it to come out and armor up

It’s been an upsetting day already, so you keep to small chat while getting to the laboratory. You jokingly call her “young Amanda” like Marcus did, and one jab to the shoulder later you learn that she does not appreciate it; her spirits quickly return to normal when not reminiscing about the past.

You also succeed in using your powers again, this time with less discomfort and pain. You show off the small tendril to Amy, who - after a quick dick size joke - is very impressed by the control you have over it, especially when you show her the ‘armor trick’.

“Wow, you’re a natural. All the other blackies I know had to play around a few days to get the hang of it. Granted, I don’t know that many. You’re the… fourth, I think, and we only have one other here.”

You don’t meet any more people during the short walk downstairs; when you comment on the matter, your companion informs you that it’s 1 A.M. and pretty much everyone is asleep. You are going to drag someone out of bed to get the sample looked at.

You finally arrive at a dead-end corridor on the final level. On your left is a heavily reinforced door, while the one on your right look like a standard no-explosives-required door. Amy knocks on the latter.

A few seconds pass, but no one comes to greet you. After another fruitless effort, Amy pulls a small key from her pocket and opens the door herself. It is initially too dark to see beyond the threshold, then the girl flips a switch and one of the ever-present LED tubes reveals a small room: it is pretty bare, the only pieces of furniture are a green file cabinet pushed all the way in the back corner, and a big desk in the middle of the room. The back wall, interestingly, is occupied by a huge screen, currently turned off; there’s another door at the back, but Amy goes straight for the desk.

Two things catch your eye about it: one, it has a built-in screen (also turned off); two, on its surface rests a corded office phone, a rather old looking piece of tech. Amy punches something in, holds the horn to her ear, and after some time starts speaking.

“It’s Amanda, sorry for waking you. No, everything’s okay, I just got a type one sample that needs analyzing… thank you.” You hear a noise behind you: a slot just opened in the heavy door you ignored. “Are the two big guys still up?... I see. Good night then.” She hangs up, turns the lights back off, and walks over to you.

“Could you put the sample in that slot over there while I lock up?” She thrusts the container towards you. It takes just two steps to reach the door; pushing the cylinder in the rectangular opening, it falls on the other side with a small metallic clang. A steel plate slides into place, sealing the slot yet again.

“Done.”

“Then we can finally hit the sack. Say, you want to sleep in the infirmary for tonight? Should be pretty quiet there. Otherwise it’s the dorm with everyone else, but people snore.”

>You need to think in peace. Infirmary.

>Might as well blend in. Dorm.

>>5262427
>You need to think in peace. Infirmary.

>>5262427
>You need to think in peace. Infirmary.

>>5262427
>You need to think in peace. Infirmary.

>>5262427
>You need to think in peace. Infirmary.

>>5262445
>>5262645
>>5262695
>>5263151
You return to the second level and get escorted to the infirmary, a rather large room with three rows of small beds. None of them are occupied, and there’s no nurse or medic in sight.

“Just take one, and if the doctor grumbles at you just tell him it’s your first night here and that I gave the all green. ‘Night, see you tomorrow.” She yawns, waves and leaves.

Choosing one of the beds in the back, you are quick to slip under the covers; as soon as your head touches the pillow, exhaustion hits you like a brick-loaded train.
Yesterday you were in Toronto, enjoying a comfy and relatively unexciting life (stuntmen training did take the edge off boring days); today you have been cast off the deep end of the unknown. You feel scared, of course, but beyond that…

>Feel anger. The corporates have dragged you to a distant land, stripped you of all that you know and love and put a target on you back. They are responsible… and they will pay.

>Feel excited. You have no idea what the future hold in store, true; on the other hand, you now have superpowers and have literal bad guys to fight. Plus, you got a cutie showing you around: every cloud has a silver lining.

>Feel inspired. The prospect of breaking the hold of a tyrannical entity over the lives of real people - or die trying - fills you with solemn determination. Never before have you felt such a sense of purpose.

>There is no “beyond”, you feel terrified. These people seriously expect you to fight corpos in the freezing wastes of Alaska? You’ll be dead in two days.

>Other (write-in)

>>5264697
>There is no “beyond”, you feel terrified. These people seriously expect you to fight corpos in the freezing wastes of Alaska? You’ll be dead in two days.

>>5264697
>Feel excited. You have no idea what the future hold in store, true; on the other hand, you now have superpowers and have literal bad guys to fight. Plus, you got a cutie showing you around: every cloud has a silver lining.

>>5264697
>Feel inspired. The prospect of breaking the hold of a tyrannical entity over the lives of real people - or die trying - fills you with solemn determination. Never before have you felt such a sense of purpose.

goddamn megacorps
take this notAmazon

>>5264697
>Feel inspired. The prospect of breaking the hold of a tyrannical entity over the lives of real people - or die trying - fills you with solemn determination. Never before have you felt such a sense of purpose.

>Other (write-in)
>Both excited and terrified

You pass from a state of maniac overexcitement to another of utter fear combined with feelings of incompetence and worthlessness: you are expected to fight corps, people that can probably afford an armed wing, trained and prepared. Even the best soldier would feel intimidated. And you're far from being the best soldier around. You've got something under your skin, something that fills you with nausea just when you try to extend it from inside your body: how will you control that?
But under that, there's the burning sensation to have found a purpose, a goal. Yes, a terrifying one, but still something that make you feel alive and useful.
You have never imagined panic and exaltation could cohesist and still here you are.

File: beacon.jpg (133 KB, 941x1513)

133 KB JPG

>>5265655
>>5265446
>>5265020
The warm flame of inspiration is comforting, and yet it cannot dispel anxiety: you are barely able to control the strange new thing coursing through your body, while the opponents can count on well trained private armies, if rumors about megacorps are to be believed.
Once the thought crosses your mind, another is quick to follow: you have already killed a man today, back in that damned truck. The revelation hits straight to the gut like a sucker punch, but the fear gripping your chest eases: the first step has been taken.

You are not sure what this tells about you as a person.

You shift on your side; neither the mattress or the pillow are very soft, but your eyelids are as heavy as lead. It takes only a few moments for you to slip away.

----

You are immersed in a thick, grey fog. The room around you is enveloped in a thick, grey fog. The entire world has been swallowed by a thick, grey fog.

And yet, this place is utterly and perfectly familiar to you. You know it like the back of your hand.
And yet, this place is utterly and perfectly alien to you. You might as well be in the Mariana’s Trench.

A flash of red sparks in the distance. In the short-lived light you see your apartment’s bedroom, untouched by flames.
Another, and you watch as fierce, monumental flare evaporates oddly-colored clouds in a strange sky.

You casually realize that you have not yet started breathing. It’s fine: you do not need to.

The crimson light returns, this time closer. Not as bright. It scares you to your core, evoking a deep, primal instinct of terror.

You take a step back. It approaches, diffusing in the heavy fog. Turning around, you run, run, run for what feel like hours, hours, hours.

You turn around. It’s just a few inches from your face, filling your vision.

In it, a figure stirs.

----

You wake with a start, drenched in cold sweat. If that was a dream, it was the most disturbingly vivid you have ever experienced.

The lights in the room are off, preventing you from seeing anything. It must be the middle of the night. There is no fog or eerie flashes of red.

As you calm down and your heart stops trying to leap out of the ribcage, consciousness fails you yet again. This time, your sleep goes undisturbed until morning.

----

“Hey, sleeping beauty.” Someone is shaking you by the shoulder. “Wake up. We have the results, you have to see this.”

You drowsily turn your head, opening just one eye to let in as little light artificial light as possible. You are greeted by the sight of an overly excited Amy, practically jumping up and down as she vigorously shakes you.

“Come on Cole, you gotta go downstairs!”

You groan. Fucking morning people.

>”Just five more minutes, Amy.”

>”I’m not going anywhere before breakfast.”

>Get out of bed before she makes you a ceiling decoration. Again.

>Other

>>5266479
>Get out of bed before she makes you a ceiling decoration. Again.
>Groan about food, coffee, or energy drinks the first ten minutes on the way.

>>5266479
>”Just five more minutes, Amy.”

I'm ready to be a ceiling decoration

>>5266479
Also, you have unlocked INTERVENTION POINTS.
By burning a point you can automatically succeed in any action that requires a roll AND involves utilizing your powers. You can both use them preemptively (to guarantee success) or after the roll (to correct unsatisfying results).
However, be warned: using them has consequences.

Furthermore, if you burn a point to accomplish something very arduous, or use one to attack a very strong foe, auto success will turn to a reroll (stopping handgun rounds with a mutie shield - no problem. Doing the same with a .50 bullet - reroll.)
In cases like this, I will ask if you are sure to burn the point before writing.

Once you decide to use one, you will have no control over Gabriel's actions for that specific roll.

You will be awarded them as the quest progresses or as a reward for good write-ins/RP.

>Intervention Point Count: 1

>>5266606
+1

>>5266925
>>5266606
>>5266624
As soon as you get out of bed, Amy is already pushing you to the door. With each step towards the hallway you grumble about food, breakfast, and coffee. At that last word, she turns you around and sets her hands on your shoulder. She looks right into your eyes; her own are wide open and almost comically round. To be perfectly honest, she looks a bit crazed.

“Right coffee. How could I forget coffee, coffee is important.”

She resumes the pushing, this time bringing you upstairs to the mess. The long tables are pretty crowded: you guess most of the base is here, and your entry with a vivacious Amy in tow attracts many stares.
Amy sits you down on a bench, mumbling at you to stay there while she goes fetch coffee.
She comes back with a single tray: upon it are two cups of coffee and a plate with some eggs and bacon. The sight of food has you excited, and you can barely restrain yourself until the tray is safely set on the table.
You immediately dig in, but get severely disappointed by a discovery: it is the cheap, synthetic imitation stuff that has been on the market since last year. It tastes bland and joyless, but it’s better than nothing; the coffee, on the other hand, is surprisingly good if a bit strong.

“You want some?” You ask, noticing that Amy didn’t bring food for herself.

“I already ate, don’t worry.” She immediately downs her coffee like her life depends on it.
You hear a deep laugh to your left. Looking over, you see a woman with long, blonde hair looking at Amy: she’s sitting hunched over at the table and half-smiling at you.

“Careful with that. I think she’s on her fourth cup.”

“Fifth.” Corrects the younger girl. “And mind your own business. I trained the people in the kitchen to make passable coffee from shitty stuff, might as well enjoy it.”

“Whatever, miss addict.” The woman laughs again and stands up. She’s fairly tall, a feature readily highlighted by the hair reaching down to her backside. “Have fun with the new guy, keep me posted if he’s any good.” Her parting words said, she leaves with heavy steps.

Amy waves at her. “That was Vic, our other blackie. She’s cool.” She turns her head towards you; you can see her pupils dilating to a concerning size.

“They sent up word from the lab first thing in the morning, results are good like REALLY good. Like fuck Marcus is going to send you away, he’s gonna fight tooth and nail to keep you here. You’re going nowhere Cole, you’re kicking Asgard ass with us instead of driving around all day near Council or Anchorage - admit it, you’ve used coffee as an excuse to get all the news beforehand, didn’t you?”

You think that uttering the word “coffee” might have been an huge mistake.

>Humor her, see if she can spill the beans some more on the results.

>Ask her to accompany you downstairs to see for yourself.

>”Holy shit, slow down and take a breath.”

>Other.

>>5268967
>Ask her to accompany you downstairs to see for yourself.
are we like the chosen one

>>5268967
>Ask her to accompany you downstairs to see for yourself.

>>5268967
>Ask her to accompany you downstairs to see for yourself.
Well. We got to know our new friend a bit better and I do like the sound of the long hair.

>Ask her to accompany you downstairs to see for yourself.

>>5268972
>>5269011
>>5269193
>>5271074
You finish eating and decide it’s time to see why Amy is so hyped up, besides the coffee.

“Alright, I get it. Let’s go.” You stand up and exit the canteen: you already know where to go, and this time your would-be guide has to hurry after you.

On the way down you even catch sight of a familiar face: Jules, who however greets you only with a “Hey” and a pat on the shoulder as he quickly passes by in the corridor. You have no idea where he’s going.
Amy is still following, still on a caffeine-fueled rant. You may have seen her actually jump up and down at some point.

Once the final flight of stairs is finally descended, the girl is still a few steps behind.

>Wait for her.

>Go to the office door (try to open or knock?)

>Go knock at the armored door.

>Other.

>>5271418
>Wait for her.

>>5271418
>Go knock at the armored door.

>>5250595
If your first language isn't English and you write like this? Keep it up.

>>5271418
>Go to the office door (try to open or knock?)
>Open
Lets try to 'force ourself' to be more assertive and confident. If we're telling ourselves we are it might make it easier when we run into something that has fear effects.

>>5271418
>Wait for her.

>>5271444
>>5272041
You let Amy catch up.

“What, already strutting around like you own this place?” She grins at you. “That’s what I like to see, Cole. But now I’ve got someone to introduce you.” Her grin grows wider. You have a feeling she was anticipating this.

Amy goes to the door, lightly hitting its surface twice with her knuckles.

“Yes?” The responding voice, while extraordinarily deep, sounded like a woman’s.

“It’s Amy and the wonderboy~!” Your young friend excitedly sings out.

You hear heavy steps from inside the room. Suspiciously heavy, in fact; it’s like someone is loudly stomping on purpose. Then the door is thrown open.

What you see coming out easily explains all the noise.

A monster of a man steps in the hallway with you, arching forward to avoid banging his head against the doorframe. His size is alarming: at a glance you would put him a hair above seven feet, but with none of the lankiness usually associated with people that tall. The guy is a tank on legs, with muscles bulging against the fabric of what looks like a white and grey military uniform; Marcus was imposing, but this is on a whole other level of ‘huge’.

Even more unnerving is the fact that he immediately turns toward you: his face can be described as angular, almost overly masculine, like sculpted out of granite. You feel momentarily overwhelmed by his presence, but after a moment his icy blue eyes dart over to Amy. He absolutely dwarfs her, and yet she looks up at him without a trace of fear on her face.

In the next second, the dread he inspired in you shatters as his stone-cold expression morphs into the friendliest, most affectionate smile you have ever seen grace the face of another human being.

“How’s the weather up th-“ The girl’s quip is interrupted as she is swept off the ground in a bear hug, the man’s booming laugh drowning out her rather lukewarm protests. Somewhere in the back of your mind, a voice tells you that these people are supposed to be ruthless, superpowered corp-killers.

As you take in the scene, another head pops out of the office at the same absurd height as the last one; this woman-goliath too is looking straight in your direction. With two long strides she’s already towering in front of you.

“Pardon the enthusiasm, it’s been some time since we’ve last seen her.” Her smile is as warm as her fellow giant’s, if a bit less Labrador-like. The similarities do not end there: her facial features are also broad and squarish, and she wears an identical white-grey uniform. Both of them sport a buzz cut: It goes without saying that, at a distance, the woman would easily pass for a male. “At any rate, my name is Zinaida.” She offers you an open hand. “While yours is…?”

>Shake her hand, introduce yourself.

>Take a step back, introduce yourself.

>Other.

Also, roll me a Perception check.

>>5271857
Thanks, anon!

Rolled 72 (1d100)

>Shake her hand, introduce yourself.

Rolled 69 (1d100)

>>5273527
>Shake her hand, introduce yourself.
Don't quote Duce Bigalow, don't quote Duce Bigalow.

Rolled 9 (1d100)

>>5273527
>Shake her hand, introduce yourself.
vat grown corp soldiers?

>>5273527
>Shake her hand, introduce yourself.

Rolled 38 (1d100)

>>5273527
>Take a step back, introduce yourself.

>>5273541
>>5273653
>>5273852
>>5273653
>>5273908
They seem very amenable, and you see no reason to retreat.
You take Zinaida's hand: it completely eclipses yours, and yet her grip is not as bone-crushing as you expected - firm, but very much controlled.

As she shakes your hand up and down, the other giant finally quiets down enough for you to catch a rather strange detail: each of Zinaida's movement is accompanied by a faint whirring noise, almost inaudible if not straining your hearing to the fullest. You don't let this distract you from the introduction, though.

"I'm Gabriel... the new guy, I suppose."

"A pleasure to meet you. That over there is my brother Gennadiy." she gestures towards the man-mountain that has currently set Amy back down on the floor and is now stepping over to you. "We are the chiefs of the operations here at base."

"Also resident Asgard corp experts and main drain on food stocks." Half whispers Amy from behind the woman's . She smiles and breaks up the handshake, affectionately ruffling the girl's hair. Her humongous hand basically swallows up half of Amy's head.

"Shut up, kid. You could chug the monthly supply of coffee in a week, you're not one to talk."

The other giant - Gennadiy, by the sound of things - interrupts their banter. "So you are the reason why the research staff got woken up in the middle of the night. Welcome aboard!" He concludes the greeting with a slap on your shoulder, thankfully measured enough to avoid pulverizing part of your skeleton. You feel him lightly pull you towards the door.
"Come in, we'll have a talk about the test results and what are you going to do from now on."

"So... I'm in? That Marcus didn't seem so keen on having me here, last night." You ask hesitantly as you enter the room. Now the big screen on the back wall is on, displaying a map of Alaska.

"Ah!" He laughs, "Old Marcus changed his mind in an heartbeat when he saw what the machines churned out. Also, we received a call from our good friends who took in that lost doctor of yours," you would describe it more as 'captured' rather than 'took in', "they had the most interesting chat. Let's just say the information complemented your test nicely."

He stops for a moment. The two colossi are in the room with you, Zinaida taking a seat behind the desk and Gennadiy going to stand beside the map-screen. You notice that Amy did not completely follow you in; she is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, preventing the from door closing on her by holding it with a foot.

This seems a good time to stick a question in.

>Inquire about something.

>Stay silent and let him talk.

>Other.

>>5277725
>Inquire about something.
Do we need to be worried or relieved that theres a link between whatever is so good about these results and what information the doctor got worked over for?

>>5277725
>Stay silent and let him talk.

>>5277725
>Inquire about something.
Ask what they heard from the doctor

>>5277914
>>5277969
>>5278146
“What did the doctor say about me? I hope it’s nothing to be worried about.”

“That depends. Do you plan on getting caught by Asgard anytime soon?” Jokes Zinaida.

Amy impatiently clears her throat. “Come on, cut to the chase. I’ve got stuff to do.”

“Alright. Basically, you were transported up here only hours after being captured. It usually takes up to a few weeks to clear someone for a place in one of their permanent structures; according to doc, the higher-ups wanted you in Alaska as soon as you were tested – ’priority asset’, he called you.” Gennadiy drags a finger on the map as he explains. “We know that they sometimes fast-track procedures when they find something interesting, but this is unprecedented.”

“So I’m so awesome they wanted do lock me up real quick?”

“You would think that, but here is where it all becomes strange.” The giant places a hand on his sister’s shoulder; she taps the screen embedded in the desk a few times, and the map on the wall is replaced by a spreadsheet filled with numbers and opaque abbreviations. You can’t make heads or tails out of it.

“These are you results. To be brief, the sample tested very high in cell count, meaning great production and regenerative rates. It was also pretty tough mechanically, useful for direct offense and defense. Seeing how you handled it on your first time, I’d say you show a lot of promise.”

Your chest swells with pride at the news that you can make top notch, premium grade black stuff.

“But to be perfectly frank, these results don’t explain the ‘priority’ designation. They could be interested in the cell count, sure, but that’s it. We don’t think it’s enough to warrant the haste, and they don’t care about good combat capability or general aptitude. There’s also the fact that they shipped you in a container truck: someone wanted to keep everything under wraps. Even the doctor knew surprisingly little about you, all in all.”

Zinaida reclines back in her chair, and it groans in protest under her considerable weight. “As for the why, we have a couple hypotheses: either their newer testing equipment can somehow detect proprieties ours can’t, or they need type ones for something.”

“I’ll always be for the ‘they’re starting shit’ option. Guess we’ll better be ready.” Amy mutters. “If we’re done, I’m going to train with the systems.”

Both giants nod, and Amy leaves with a “See you later, then.” You are left alone in the office with them.

“So… what now?” You ask.

“Now we tell you in detail how things work around here, unless you have any more questions.”

>Questions time.

>Let them explain.

>Other.

>>5281615
>Let them explain.

>>5281615
>Let them explain.

>>5281615
>Questions time.
Ask how to read the spreadsheet they had up

>5281615
>Questions time.

>>5281726
>>5282638
You give them the go ahead, and they promptly hand you a printout of the daily schedule. It is rather military-like.

‘Wake-up call – 0600
Breakfast – 0630
Basic Training – 0700
Lunch – 1200
Specific Training – 1230
Dinner – 1700
Free time – 1730
Lights-out – 2200’
“Seems rigid.” You comment.

“You’re kidding. Look at all that personal time. Compared with a stint in the military or corporate security, it’s like heaven.” Remarks the she-giant. She must have a very unusual concept of heaven.

“If you say so. What about the training?”

“Basic is for simple physical and firearm drills, we’ve got indoor facilities on the second floor. As for Specific, you can choose between specialized weapon training, CQC or data extraction. Regimes may change according to what we need.”

Gennadiy looks straight into your eyes, his jovial voice shifting to a more serious tone. “Then there’s the missions. You can expect one by next week, and will be given several days of notice if selected for participation. It will most probably involve combat, so get ready.”
You feel a shiver at the word “combat”, but the ugly feeling dissipates in only a short moment.
“Rules are simple: don’t go outside; don’t start trouble with people, especially since some folks here can cave your skull with a thought; listen to who’s in charge – that’s me, my sister or Marcus if we’re not around; lastly, don’t die.”

You nod at that last order.

“Now go upstairs, you can still catch some Basic before lunchtime. Just ask someone where ‘the gym’ is.”

You thank them and turn around to leave. “Ah, Gabriel, one last thing.” Gennadiy’s booming voice stops you. “We’ve had problem with newcomer morale in the past, especially in other cells. If you ever feel that we’re struggling blindly, know that this group has a clear goal in mind, and right now we’re almost at the endgame.” He places one hand on the desk and starts tapping his fingers, seemingly lost in thought. “Asgard is like a mythological hydra. Cutting off one head won’t kill the beast… but we don’t need to. We just need that one head as a bargaining chip.”

You lift an eyebrow. “That was awfully vague, but I’ll keep it in mind.” After all, you’d be lying if the thought didn’t cross you mind.

Zinaida laughs a dry and bitter laugh. For a single, fleeting instant her gaze looks unfocused, her face exhausted. “Show everyone here you’re reliable. Return from your first mission and you will be briefed on the plan. Now go - learn how to fuck’em up good.”

Leaving the office, you find yourself staring at the sterile concrete wall of the hallway. The enormity of your situation makes you dizzy, and yet you feel a fire burning from the inside. Is it determination? Anger? Or both?

You don’t know, but you cling to it, bask in its searing heat. Your fingertips tingle as you will the black veins to stir under the skin.

Whatever will happen, whatever you will become – this inner blaze marks the beginning.

We're already on page eight so I say we stop here for now - I have to write stuff for what comes next. Thanks for reading/playing, I enjoyed it very much.

As for feedback - what do y'all think? I'm open to suggestion and critique (I need it, in fact.)

We should be past the most infodumpy part, I'm sorry if it felt heavy or boring.

>>5285085
Been pretty good. Slow after the initial action but that can happen with a backstory and setting introduction chapter. I'm itching to see where more of this goes.

>>5285085
Promising quest imo. If possible more frequent updates would be nice. Also more meaningful prompts, the way I see them is different courses of action towards a common goal, and the players select which one they want, or write one in if none satisfy. At a point like >>5273527
I don't think it makes too big a difference what we do before the handshake. It doesn't feel like we're guiding anything.
The choices in >>5242201
on the other hand feel great

>>5285483
Thanks anon. I'll try to insert more impactful prompts next thread; the fact that it will be more action-oriented should help. Now that it's all said and done, I feel that this thread has been one giant introduction. Makes for a slow start, but I think it smooths out things going forwards.

>>5290379
New thread!

>>5292467
Thanks for running.