Victim
First Post
Megan Lynn had been having a surprisingly non-awful week. Frostblade, ice creating/controlling thief, had been captured, and in the light of day, worries about his escape seemed less reasonable. The wicked headache incurred in the battle had vanished with a night (and most of a day) of sleep. So she was lying down on the floor, flipping through news channels on her roommate's TV, looking for information relevant to superheroing.
White Knight. I tangled with him once. He shoots white hot plasma. I do the same. He's not really bothered by white hot plasma. I ... let's just say I was lucky get a draw by blinding him.
I don't like to deal with normal crime - it just feels disproportionate, like if the police started using tanks and military attack helicopters - but the throat torn out and not just cut might be a sign of some power. Lycan? Shapechanging? Maybe I should do some research.
There's no such thing as good news today.
I know I'm not responsible for all the problems of the world. More importantly, I feel that way too. But wouldn't it be nice if I could feel like powers and weirdness provided a net benefit to the world? If all the


I've been through meant something? Joining a superteam comes strongly reccommended by my roommate (not that she's a super hero, but her advice usually seems good). I could certainly benefit from working with more experienced supers. On the other hand, group projects haven't went all that well at school.
Umm, wow, he moved from selling me on this plan to important details without much preamble. Let's see: Freedom stadium, midnight, lot 17, black van, 7DX5something, input SS#, meet+wait, go someplace else. Hmm, Mr. Metal was not exactly specific on that last bit: are we going to a secret base, a fight, both? I don't recognize him either.
With that thought, Megan gracefully sprang to her feet and began preparing what she might need for the super hero thing. The usual equipment certainly: a road map of the city (not being a native sometimes sucked), a laminated card with important medical information, a pen with a metal casing, and a small pack of 3x5 cards (signed by her roommate as Shooting Star). Considering the lack of information about what she'd be doing tonight, packing for other circumstances might be smart - a day's worth of medication went into one aerodynamic, while a T-shirt and shorts were brutally stomped into the other. My amazing array of super science gadgets. At least I'll have time to fly a few circuits before the meeting.
Before taking off, Megan scrawls a brief note: "SOMTHNG CAME ^ @ PART TIME JOB. MEETING COWORKERS." A would understand.
Then Shooting Star takes off, moving in erratic bursts at a few hundred miles per hour to disguise her starting point. At least until she can get clear out to sea; then it's time to go all out.
After taking her "exercise," Megan zooms off to the Colosseum, aiming to arrive a few minutes before midnight even allowing for a few low speed orbits to check the area out. Not that a trap is likely - with their information and technology, taking me out would be child's play. 'In other news, 2 students tragically died this weekend of carbon monoxide poisoning in their Southside apartment...'
With that cheerful thought, Shooting Star lands near the black van (assuming nothing happens).
(Stealth +8, Notice +6)
White Knight. I tangled with him once. He shoots white hot plasma. I do the same. He's not really bothered by white hot plasma. I ... let's just say I was lucky get a draw by blinding him.
I don't like to deal with normal crime - it just feels disproportionate, like if the police started using tanks and military attack helicopters - but the throat torn out and not just cut might be a sign of some power. Lycan? Shapechanging? Maybe I should do some research.
There's no such thing as good news today.
I know I'm not responsible for all the problems of the world. More importantly, I feel that way too. But wouldn't it be nice if I could feel like powers and weirdness provided a net benefit to the world? If all the




Umm, wow, he moved from selling me on this plan to important details without much preamble. Let's see: Freedom stadium, midnight, lot 17, black van, 7DX5something, input SS#, meet+wait, go someplace else. Hmm, Mr. Metal was not exactly specific on that last bit: are we going to a secret base, a fight, both? I don't recognize him either.
With that thought, Megan gracefully sprang to her feet and began preparing what she might need for the super hero thing. The usual equipment certainly: a road map of the city (not being a native sometimes sucked), a laminated card with important medical information, a pen with a metal casing, and a small pack of 3x5 cards (signed by her roommate as Shooting Star). Considering the lack of information about what she'd be doing tonight, packing for other circumstances might be smart - a day's worth of medication went into one aerodynamic, while a T-shirt and shorts were brutally stomped into the other. My amazing array of super science gadgets. At least I'll have time to fly a few circuits before the meeting.
Before taking off, Megan scrawls a brief note: "SOMTHNG CAME ^ @ PART TIME JOB. MEETING COWORKERS." A would understand.
Then Shooting Star takes off, moving in erratic bursts at a few hundred miles per hour to disguise her starting point. At least until she can get clear out to sea; then it's time to go all out.
After taking her "exercise," Megan zooms off to the Colosseum, aiming to arrive a few minutes before midnight even allowing for a few low speed orbits to check the area out. Not that a trap is likely - with their information and technology, taking me out would be child's play. 'In other news, 2 students tragically died this weekend of carbon monoxide poisoning in their Southside apartment...'
With that cheerful thought, Shooting Star lands near the black van (assuming nothing happens).
(Stealth +8, Notice +6)