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Post by Dead Sidekick on Jan 26, 2012 2:06:54 GMT -5
OOC: I'm presuming Elixir and Renegade have dropped (bummer) but I'm reserving NPC stand-ins in this scene to "be" them if they wish to rejoin (leeme know through PM)
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Friday morning, October 23, 2009 10:14 am EST; La Guardia Airport, Queens, New York City
Markus DeShayes' plane ride from Chicago to New York City in the guise of Maggia moneyman Sam Evans ends, and as the plane rolls to the terminal, the Romani gentleman in red funerary garb sitting next to him eyes him up and down with bewilderment as he babbles on about how he hates New York City's "chaos" and that it took the death and impending funeral this afternoon of his late niece to bring him here.
But then he says something odd but poignant to Markus that sets his precognitive senses on edge. The man had already in-flight seemed possessed by an invasive female-voiced spirit that informed Markus that "Mephisto had betrayed him." The man took out a business card and scribbled a phone number on the back of it before giving it to Markus, saying "There's an old saying: 'When hunting the Devil, take care that you do not become him.' I have a corrolary to that. Do not let your fears and Nightmares make you overlook the obvious."
Shaking Markus' hand with a pat on his shoulder, he says, "Call me if you need assistance in your journey ahead. I don't know why I'm moved to offer. You seem like a friendly face, I guess."
As they disembark from the plane, the man separates from Markus into the bustling crowd. Markus looks down at the Romani man's business card, and is distracted momentarily by the graphical symbol on its face over the text that merely reads "Fortune Telling. Palmistry. Tarot Reading. 24 Hour Service."
The symbol is a stylized, non-magickal representation of the Eye of Dyzakk.
Markus collects his belongings from the baggage claim carousel, and finds the Dagger of Souls still among its unmolested contents.
"Thur he is!" a buffoonish looking man in a pinstripe zoot suit elbows another man in pinstripes in the ribs, forcing him to fold up a copy of the Daily Bugle newspaper emblazoned with the headline "MONSTER-MUTANT ATTACKS ROCK CITY FOR 6TH NIGHT IN A ROW." They are joined by a third man, well dressed in more modern casual wear as they approach Markus.
"Didja hava good flight, Mista Evans? Come with us, we gots a car outside. Mista H can't wait to get the poker game started."
One of the other goons seems to stifle a giggle.
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The Omen
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Post by The Omen on Jan 26, 2012 18:47:55 GMT -5
I smile at the Eye and carefully pocket the card. I suspect it will come in handy in the near future…in fact, the sooner I can conclude this business, the sooner I can take Le gitan up on his offer. I holster the Dagger of Souls just in time to catch the “Guys and Dolls” floor show. En espérant que "Sopranos" marathon payé…
“You’re clearly the man in charge”, I say as I ignore the buffoons in anachronistic dress and approach the criminal with enough common sense not to make a spectacle of himself in a post-homeland security airport. “What the @#$% is up with these two stunads over here? Look at them...all they're missing is the violin cases and a monochrome filter! Madonn, I thought this was New York, not Gotham @#$%in’ City... Heckle, Jeckle…make yourselves useful and grab my other bags off the @#$%in carousel! And you. You have a name or are you just here to make the scecchinos look legitimate?”
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Post by Dead Sidekick on Jan 27, 2012 6:32:21 GMT -5
"Whaddy he call me?" the pinstriped goon with the newspaper said, with some irritation, "He called ya Jeckle, Jeckle." the first pinstriped goon replied. "Chris, get the gentleman's bags." he said to the casually dressed man. 'Chris' gathers up Markus' bags, and follows behind as they all walk to the waiting car. "He ain't nobody. Not made, capisci?" the first zoot suit said to Markus, refering to the casually dressed man carrying Markus' bags. "I though you Chicagoland boys knew Mista H likes the old style for his lieutenants." "So you're the big high rollin' money man Sam Evans, huh?" 'Jeckle' asked with a sneer. "I respects you because Mista H told us to respects you. But in this town, you ain't nobody but a grease spot waitin' to stain a back alley dumpster if you don't gives respect in return." "Easy, Sal. I'm sorry Mista Evans. He don't mean no disrespect. It's just that with this gang war going on, everyone's place is up in the air. Power grabs. Bid'ness. Mista H bringin' in big heat. Mercenary players. Super-muscle. Us loyals, the made men with the family from the start, feel a little squeezed out and we don't like it. It's good to get a little respect, and for Mista H to put on a poker game in all this, well, we expect it should be a honor for yas. It's nice to see Mista H getting back to his roots. Especially after that attack on his club last night. Mista H is a cool customer. Didn't even faze him. At least, he won't show it. Deep down, we know he's expectin' us to do something about it. Anyway," the pinstriped goon said, changing the subject, "I hope you brought a lot of money to lose in the poker game." 'Jeckle' giggles again. ooc: precog flash FEAT roll
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The Omen
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Post by The Omen on Jan 27, 2012 22:31:59 GMT -5
OOC: Precog roll [attack=269672986816832]
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The Omen
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Post by The Omen on Jan 27, 2012 22:38:09 GMT -5
“Enough. Do you imagine me some kind of fool, Heckle? Did you suspect, perhaps, a few placating words of gangster wisdom would lull me into a false sense of security? I don’t like you and I certainly don’t respect you. I will be liaising with Sal from now on. He may be a crass fool, but he, at least is honest. As for you and Chris… you work for me now. You WILL be loyal to the point of death.” OOC: Willpower Green is my default Mind Control color ...RM rank +1cs for psychology. It's been a while since I read the power description, but they have to make the FEAT against the intensity, right? If not, here's the roll (and I'm spending any necessary karma)[attack=742125949963379] edit: I'm targeting heckle and chris
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The Omen
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Post by The Omen on Jan 28, 2012 17:17:57 GMT -5
OOC: Good point...If it's not too late then I'll just target "Heckle" for now...he's the one in charge anyway...2 birds, one stone and all that...
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Post by Dead Sidekick on Jan 30, 2012 2:40:59 GMT -5
ooc: power description clarification discussion moved to private messages...
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Post by Dead Sidekick on Jan 30, 2012 3:18:36 GMT -5
ooc: results of Precognition FEAT...
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As "Jeckle" giggles, Markus gets a strange vision of a man tied to a chair that looks like him but isn't him, held in a dingy basement of some run-down building. His hair and clothing is soaked as if he had been doused with water from a bucket at his feet. There are burn holes in his clothing across his torso down to hideously scorched flesh.
A man in pinstriped suitpants and button down shirt is stirring coals inside a burning trash barrel, pulling out a glowing white hot fireplace poker and pushing its burning end into the chest of the tied up man, searing his clothing and flesh until they ignite, which is quickly put out with a splash of water from another man wielding a bucket.
As the man cries in agony, another pinstripe suited thug punches him and yells "Where is Mista H's money?!"
Markus begins to have the sensation that he's watching future events from the perspective of his own eyes as he himself is tied to a chair.
A pinstriped thug says "We got two Sam Evans'? Well well well. Now it's a real poker game!"
(/end precog vision)
ooc: awaiting results of proposal for mind control power description in private message before proceeding...
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Post by Dead Sidekick on Jan 31, 2012 14:46:35 GMT -5
As "Chris" loads Markus' bags into the trunk of a black Lincoln Town Car on the parking lot of the La Guardia Airport, "Jeckle" gets in the car beside the driver, yelling at "Chris" to hurry up. After "Chris" loads the bags, he goes to "Jeckle's" window, and "Jeckle" gives him a small package wrapped in a wad of hundred dollar bills. "Chris" departs, hailing a taxi cab.
"Heckle" stands on the sidewalk next to Markus, with a confused look on his face.
"Are you two gonna get in the car or what?" Jeckle berates Markus and his new mind-controlled "friend."
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The Omen
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Post by The Omen on Feb 1, 2012 8:03:05 GMT -5
The one called Chris's departure is unexpected. I make a mental note to inquire about that package at a later date. I'm certain my new "employee" could shed some light on the matter, were he not currently too involved with making a spectacle of himself.
Do stop making that face...it makes you look constipated. You're enthralled , not a zombie. And, I must say, if "loyalty" translates as "lack of initiative" to you, your service to me will be MUCH shorter than either of us anticipates. Get in the car and make sure nothing unpleasant happens. Well...unpleasant for me.
I wait for him to open the door and seat himself, then slide in. "Jeckle"'s obvious disdain for me and his nervous laughter at any mention of "sam evan's" money suggests an imminent double cross, particularly in light of mon aileron prémonitoires peu. Perhaps it would be in my best interest to sew a little discord into the situation. Keeping my will focused on "Heckle", I address his partner in crime.
My apologies for my earlier remarks..."Sal", was it? The quality of the airline and the length of the flight soured my mood. Your associate here was just telling me about the game's venue and said that you knew more about it. He's afraid he'll tell me all the details of "Mister H's" organization...from revenue to number of "associates" if he get's started talking, he said. 'We wouldn't want that', I said. 'You'd likely get both of us killed'. Better to be discrete with that kind of information, am I right? I just want to know where I'm playing and who all I'm playing against...no need to include anything regarding this gang war business. You New York boys can handle your own business without Chicago's involvement. Am I right?
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Post by Dead Sidekick on Feb 1, 2012 11:41:39 GMT -5
Sal looks over the back seat at Markus and the pinstriped goon dubbed "Heckle," and shakes his head in derision. The car begins moving.
"I already toldja Mista Evans that in this town you gives respect to gets respect. You's lucky Mista H wants to win your money in a poker game, or I'da done capped you and took your loot to him myself."
"Easy Sal," Heckle said, "I'm sorry Mista Evans. He don't mean no disrespect. It's just that with this gang war going on, everyone's place is up in the air. Power grabs. Bid'ness."
"You said that already, Jackie. What are you stoopid?"
"Shut up, Jeckle."
"Call me Jeckle one more time, I damn dog dare ya!"
"Both of you, for crying out loud, shaddup!" the driver said, not taking his eyes off the road.
"Excuse me, Mr. Bitterhorn. I just don't like out-of-towners comin' here wavin' their cazzones around, not showing proper respect."
"Why don't you tell Mr. Evans a little about what's going on around here?"
Heckle / Jackie speaks up. "The Big Apple's pie is split into three big families, see. The Silvermanes, the Nefarias, and Mista H. Of course, there's il Capo di tutti capi above us all, the real Kingpin, but for the day to day whackin' and sackin', the three families keep the business rollin'. Capisci? Syndicates all up and down the East Coast, from Portland to Miami. Well, right now we've got some upstarts trying to muscle in on the action. Mutant monsters all hopped up on Kick hitting all the major families and their associates here in New York. Only one of the families ain't been hit yet, the Silvermanes, and there's a sense in the air someone's trying to provoke a war between us all and pin it on Silvermane. Mister H has already brought in some super-powered muscle to deal with this new 'Faces of Fear' gang of Kick junkies, and word has it there's an ambush rumble coming tonight at midnight while Mister H is playing poker with yas. Seems the leader of the 'Faces of Fear' want to meet with Mista H and trade for some goofy magic book stolen from the Met. Well, Mista H is gonna get that book, but this Mista Fear guy leading the 'Faces of Fear' is not going to live to see the sunrise tomorrow."
Jeckle / Sal giggles.
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The Omen
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Post by The Omen on Feb 2, 2012 2:24:18 GMT -5
Fils d'un rut la chèvre!
...Bitterhorn...I knew something smelled rotten.
"Are you serious?" , I say addressing Sal "You're telling me every bit of evidence is pointing to an unknown power...these "Faces of Fear"...actively striving to set the new york families to war, and the best your organization can think of to do is run to Chicago for resources? What, are you all high?"
"No wonder "Mister H" is trying to gamble for funds. No boss in his right mind would waste money on a supposed peer showing this much weakness."
"Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Bitterhorn?" I refuse to wait for an answer. "All this talk of your boss winning my money...what is he willing to give up if he loses?"
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The Omen
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Post by The Omen on Feb 2, 2012 15:23:05 GMT -5
A thought occurs to me as I speak...more a flash of impending irony. Opening my awareness to the fullest, I begin to examine Bitterhorn, searching for tell-tale links of eldritch power... OOC:...which is my fancy schmancy way of saying he's going to attempt a power stunt with his Astral Detection:
Either 1)Reality Perception * The PC can see the network patterns of matter and energy that form the universe. This power functions like a combination of the powers; Extradimensional, True sight, and Cosmic Perception. This power is so outside of reality that the PC can develop a vast variety of Power stunts: *Penetrate illusions by focusing on the true energy patterns; *Perceive the physical and mental condition of a being; *Perceive the occurrences in other realities; *Penetrate concealment and disguises, and see the true nature of matter; *Perceive occurrences beyond the barrier of dimensions; *See through matter. Note: This is a Cosmic Power, so player must work with the Judge. Furthermore, this power can also lead to insanity
from CMF's ultimate powers listwww.classicmarvelforever.com/cms/ultimate-powers-list.html#Detection
or, if that's too over the top, True Sight. (The former is the preference). In either case I'm looking to see exactly who and what he is for future reference.
If it's doable, I'll be spending the requisite karma for the attempt and to guarantee the red FEAT.[attack=101549922436644]
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Post by Dead Sidekick on Feb 2, 2012 16:18:21 GMT -5
ooc: ixnay on the Reality Perception power
www.youtube.com/embed/8JNuqEz_GCQ
Don't wanna go outside the APB / UPB / Realms of Magic powerbases...
...but the Truesight powerstunt is doable and very amenable to what's about to happen...
[er, insert Judgely muhahahaha here] ![;)](//storage.proboards.com/forum/images/smiley/wink.png)
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Post by Dead Sidekick on Feb 2, 2012 18:19:29 GMT -5
Fils d'un rut la chèvre!
...Bitterhorn...I knew something smelled rotten."Are you serious?" , I say addressing Sal "You're telling me every bit of evidence is pointing to an unknown power...these "Faces of Fear"...actively striving to set the new york families to war, and the best your organization can think of to do is run to Chicago for resources? What, are you all high?" Sal / Jeckle says, "Well azza madda o'fact," tapping the side of his nose with his index finger, "I'm a numb-faced paranoia psychopath machine gunnin' crazy train railin' lunatic ride-about now. Want some?" he asks, attempting to pass a snuff box over the seat back to Markus. Bitterhorn says "Damn it, Sal! That crap has got you keyed-up to tight! Mister H wants a clean game of poker. Drinks only, once we get to the lounge. If you wanna go space cadet once we've shown Mr. Evans to his guest condo, you can do that on your own time. I'm tired of covering for you." "I'm sure Mista H can cover any wagers he makes," Bitterhorn says. "For ya sake I hope youse can cover yours. Ya card sharks, always gotta one-up each otha, talkin' trash. Way too high stakes for me. Maybe youse can teach us all somethin'. The Chicago way, right? So Mista H don't have to call out of town for gamblers at his level. Not that your not welcome here, see. Nah, these Faces of Fear clowns, amateurs. Ain'tchoo been watchin' da nooze? Just a bunch of stinkin' muties whacked out on Kick, shakin' down the hood rats and street soldiers. Got the whole city in a panic, hell the President and the Governor have got the whole dang National Guard movin in', gotta make a big publicity show for the suits in Washington and their anti-mutie law cheerleadin', ya know, Anywho, these freaks stole some kinda antique witchy book from the Met, trying to blackmail pin it on Mister H, like he's some kinda petty smash-n-grabber. We don't need no help from Chi-town, youse just here for Mister H's poker tournament. Keeping freindly contacts with the Midwest laundromat, ya know?" As Bitterhorn rambles on, Markus probes the astral threads of time and space and discovers this "Bitterhorn" is just some made driver for Hammerhead, with no true connections whatsoever to the Bitterhorn encountered previously at Fire Lake Mansion. The only similarity between this human and the demonic herald of Mephisto is their coincidentally shared name. Not that there aren't any paranormal disruptions in the fabric of time creating strange ripples in the vicinity. As Markus follows the temporal line of an astral thread back to Fire Lake Mansion to search for a connection from Bitterhorn the driver to Bitterhorn the Deciever, he feels a slight jab of pain in the center of his forehead and sees a robed Anton Devine smash the Eye of Dyzakk ward with some rune-covered pick axe... "What the?!" Bitterhorn the driver exclaims, as the windshield is filled with the horrifying reality of a flying transit bus smashing through it. Flames. Darkness. A whisper. The Romani man from the plane, speaking in unison softly with a female voice calling over an impossible distance. "Do not let you Fears and Nightmares make you overlook the obvious...." Light. Panicked screams. The highway is strewn with flaming debris and wreckage. A mangled transit bus rests atop what is left of the black Lincoln Town Car it was physically heaved up and thrown at. All passengers dead. Except Markus. Somehow in the instant of impact, his body became immaterial, passing through the carnage around him, or rather the carnage passing through him, like a ghost. Markus came to rest, sitting on the pavement unscathed as his packed belongings burned to a crisp in the mangled wreckage behind him. Saved by the protective power of the Dagger of Souls. The seething telepathic voice of the tall blue skinned, purple haired Forerunner standing in the highway in front of him came through, louder than the weaving cars screeching to avoid the inferno and the alien woman that caused it. "Anomaly! Refugee of Oblivion! Meet now the fate of things not meant to be! You will not bring the Darkness to this world. You will....ARRRRRGH!" A silver ball, with teeth, races into the Forerunners chest, devouring its way through. The ball screams, "Master! Run! Seek the Towers guarded by the White Angel. The amulets are there. Protected by dimensional vortices I cannot cross. Hurry! The barriers are weakening..." The Forerunner thrashes against her Jin en Mok assailant as it devours her arms, yet cries in agony as its consumed blood damages it chronologically. Hastily, the ravenous silver orb zips and drills through the remains of the Forerunner, erasing it from existence but sorely depleted by the effort. The orb too begins to disintegrate. "Master... I must swim across the Bleed... to warn you... to tell you the things of this cursed world.... I... am the last... of five... but one has..." The orb disappears. From existence. Without so much as an astral trace. A car stops next to Markus, and a man pokes his head out of the window. "Hey buddy?! You were thrown clear of the wreck?! Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?" No one but Markus saw the thing that never happened, only the confusion it left behind.
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