[This quest is inspired by Wildbow’s Worm setting and WeaverDice roleplaying game, if not in mechanics, at least in tone and general thematic. Oh, and it’s an universe much like our own, but not quite (even discounting superpowers. Welcome, and I hope you’ll enjoy yourself!]

>>115691
>That uniform would definitely look nicer with a bit of refurbishing (?)

There's no excuse for not being FANTASTIC!

>>115691
>Whatever, you’ve made your point, just put on the damn uniform as it is
Is there supposed to be an image or description of the uniform?

>>115691
>That uniform would definitely look nicer with a bit of refurbishing (?)
Slut it up to get back at mom

File: 1451623925144.jpg (91 KB, 600x600)

91 KB JPG

>>115701
Something classic, a blazer+white shirt+jacket, bow tie, pleated skirt, etc.

>>115699
>>115708
Any particular way in which you want it done?

>>115710
>Any particular way in which you want it done?
Expose some clevage, maybe show a bit off our midriff as well.
Definitely drop the tights and bowtie if it's warm outside.

>>115718
>>115708
>>115699
Well, then. Writing.

Yeah, no, that has to go. You stash the tights back into your drawers then put on the rest of the uniform. The bow tie has got to go too, it’s stifling, even in your air-conditioned room. But it would look way cooler in your hair.

“Daughter of mine, it doesn’t take you half an hour to put on an uniform!”
“Coming!” you shout back from your vanity while finishing with the last touches on your hair.

You roll up your skirt up at the waist, grab your bag, and scramble down the stairs to the hallway. Your mother doesn’t even have time to start screeching at you before you climb up to your room again, one hand keeping the halfway-to-your-thighs skirt in place. Where were the shorts again? There, found them. Now you can infuriate your mother without suffering undue embarassment.

“Mother, I am ready,” you say with nary a hint of sarcasm.
“Don’t you ‘mother’ me. Put on your uniform correctly, because I’m pretty sure that this is not the way it’s supposed to be worn,” she replies while buttoning up your shirt all the way, then squints her eyes. “Are you wearing make-up?”
“That’s just some gloss and mascara, that doesn’t count,” you say, straining to keep your eyes from rolling.
“And I’m pretty sure it’s forbidden as well.”
“Mom, I’m going to be late.”

Her mouth opens, but then she throws her arms up.

“I’ll ask Jorge to drive you then, and call him to pick you up when you’re finished.”

This is ridiculous. The Rep School isn’t even ten minutes away by foot.

>“Suuuure.” (Go to school by car)
>“Oh yes, I shall endeavour to do just that.” (Go there walking)
>Other (?)

[Sorry for lateness, I was forgetting words.]

>>115777
>Other
Grab our helmet and (motor)bike to school

>>115777
>“Oh yes, I shall endeavour to do just that.” (Go there walking)

>>115777
>“Oh yes, I shall endeavour to do just that.” (Go there walking)

Writing!

>>115777

>“Oh yes, I shall endeavour to do just that.” (Go there walking)

“Oh yes, Mother, I shall endeavour to do just that.”
“Alan, don’t become like her when you grow up, okay?”

The aforementioned starts laughing when he hears his name, and you can’t help but smoosh your cheek against his and rub, which makes him laugh even more. With a final kiss on his tiny forehead, you head out, and let out a grumble when your mother gets the last word: “Good day, sweetie, and lose my number if the school wants to talk about your improper dress, alright?”

You start towards the garage, thinking that maybe you could grab your motorcycle, but you’ve seen people driving around in this city, and a two-wheeler clearly is not compatible with your state of (un)dress. You dodge Jorge waiting for you by the black Sedan, and leave by one of the backyard entrances. If you’re going to stay here for God-knows-how-long, you could at least see the sights.

You guess ‘Bosque’ is an apt name for the town, given that there are so many freaking trees around. Sure, you’re in the nice part of the town, but is there really a need for a canopy in an actual city? Ah, you can feel the hay fever coming up, you hate this. You used to live in a real city, not some kind of half-civilized jungle—is that a monkey?

A blast of air makes you stagger (‘Haha, shorts for ever!’), and even while blinking away furiously the pollen and other plant stuff getting into your eyes, you have time to see a silouhette clad in red rush past you, flying a few meters above the roof of the cars.

Holy shit, they have capes here?!

You look back and see the figure disappear upward in a whirl of green leaves. It’s hard to stop yourself from muttering “holy crap, holy crap, holy crap”. That was so freaking cool.

You have tears in your eyes from excitement (and plant spooge, you guess) when you get to the iron gates of the International Republican School of America, and more importantly in front of the monitor. He grabs you by the arm in front of the other students, not one of them as daring than you in their outfit, and forces you to stand besides him while he checks the pupils’ attire and nods at the personnel.

“Now then,” he says, turning to you with a from after the flow of people has run dry, “what has got into your mind to dress like...this, Miss...?”

Choose a first name:
>(?)

What do you do?:
>“Well, actually, it’s my first day here, so I really didn’t know we weren’t supposed to modify the uniform. Um, sorry?”
>“Whatever.”
>Cry a bit to make him feel bad and swear you’re totally not going to do that again.
>Other (?)

>>115939
>Ekaterina
>Cry a bit to make him feel bad and swear you're totally not going to do that again

>>115939
>Cynthia
>“Well, actually, it’s my first day here, so I really didn’t know we weren’t supposed to modify the uniform. Um, sorry?”

>>115939
>Liliana (Lily)

>Look for flaws in his own attire, or create some if they don't exist, to humiliate him.

>>115939
>Choose a first name:
>Natalia

>What do you do?:
>Cry a bit to make him feel bad and swear you’re totally not going to do that again.

>>115942 here
changing my action vote to >>115956

Changing >>115952 to
>Natalia
>Look for flaws in his own attire, or create some if they don't exist, to humiliate him.

Writing.

“What has got into yours to dress like...this?” you reply back, mimicking him.
“...I’m sorry?”
“I mean, I get you’re going for the whole ‘I’m a responsible person’ look, but remember, cuffs to the wrists, not the hands!”
“I’ll have you come with me to the principal’s office, Miss...?” he says while trying to tuck back his sleeves into his jacket furtively.
“And y’know, your pants are so baggy it looks like you’re trying to go for that gangster look—Hey! That hurts!”
“You. Are coming with me,” he says in a stilted tone, marching towards the rather grand entrance to the main building, your arm in tow.

*

“Miss Natalia Campbell-Seung, hm?” says the principal while pondering the letter of introduction produced by his secretary. You don’t say anything, but you’re kind of cheering inside your mind. That’ll show your mother.

“I’m Principal Gardner, how do you do?” he continues and extends his hand with a smile. You take it, looking away and muttering something alongside the lines of an inquiry for his health or whatever.
“Very well, thank you. Now, I’m very happy to say that I know your father quite well, and that I am delighted to have seen him put his...ah, trust into my school for the education of his daughter—that is, you—erm, for the time of his stay here. I’m less happy to see that said daughter seems to be of the rebellious sort in an institution that prides itself on helping the youth of today establish the bases of a proper and responsible future. For them, and for the heights they will no doubt attain as they mature and become adults,” he says and stops, looking at you with a kinda creepy Santa Claus-like smile. You squirm a bit in your seat, not really liking him knowing your father.

“Now. Will I need to open a regular line of communication with Craig, or will that incident stay between us and not the antecedent of further visits in my office?”

You hope you didn’t blanch too much when he mentioned your father by name. You shake your head and feel a bead of sweat running down your temples before you remember some crumbs of politeness and say: “No, that, uh, won’t be necessary, Sir. Um, thank you.”

“Very well then,” he starts with another kindly yet creepy smile, “off to class you go. Mr Carles, bring her up to date on proper attire on the way, will you?”

*

The monitor leaves you by your class with strict instructions and the distinct feeling that you’ve made an enemy here. You check your watch (a Lacroix, gift of your father for your sixteenth birthday) and see that this is already halfway to homeroom. Well, better get on with it.

Choose one:
>Yeah, no, you’re not going to make your father angry. (Button up and roll down your skirt, the boys will weep that loss)
>It’s not like your father is home often these days. Who cares? (Keep the upgraded uniform)

How do you introduce yourself to your class:
>Civil Status Stuff
>Hobbies (?)
>Some other declaration (?)

>>116188
>Yeah, no, you're not going to make your father angry.
Well shit, Principal Gardner.
We'll just have to rebel in other ways.
>Hobbies
Riding motorbike, reading comics
>Some other declaration
Go full Haruhi-esque introduction.
"I'm not interested in ordinary people" etc. etc.

>>116188
>It’s not like your father is home often these days. Who cares? (Keep the upgraded uniform)

Do not surrender a single inch!

>>116188
>Yeah, no, you’re not going to make your father angry. (Button up and roll down your skirt, the boys will weep that loss)
But when you leave the office, you unbutton the shirt a wee bit.

>Hobbies:
Playing squash, dodgeball, other competitive sports where you can hurl shit at people.

>Some other declaration:
Following up with >>116211
Go full Haruhi-esque introduction.
"I'm not interested in ordinary people" etc. etc.

>>116188
>Yeah, no, you’re not going to make your father angry.

>Civil Status Stuff
>Hobbies:
Motorbike, reading classic literature, martial arts

>>116188
>Yeah, no, you’re not going to make your father angry. (Button up and roll down your skirt, the boys will weep that loss)
>Hobbies (?)

Writing.

Damn.

You take a moment to compose yourself and keep your heart from hammering out of your chest. One crazy part of your brain jabbers about not surrendering a single inch of leg, but you can already see your father’s glare bearing down on you, and bleakly roll down your skirt and button up your shirt until the awful stifling heat crushes you again in its moist hands. Bleh. At least, you think while removing your improvised scrunchy to tie it around your neck, the shirt’s kinda see-through.

You knock on the door and go in without waiting for the professor’s invitation. You have a quick sweep of the room before keeping your eyes straight on the middle-aged woman at the desk while you walk up to her in the fading scraps of conversation.

Pretty sure everybody can hear your pulse booming across the silence, and you have the distinct feeling you’ll need to go to the bathroom soon to wipe off some sweat before it reaches your waist.

“Oh, yes, um, I did say we had a new transfer student, didn’t I?” says the professor, sifting through an imposing stack of papers inside her beaten folder. “Ah, yes, there, Mis—”

“My name is Natalia Campbell-Seung,” you interrupt her, before you both enter a stuttering frenzy, “16. I come from mainland, that is, um, Washington, like, err, the city, and um, I—”

You stop, take a breath and fix your gaze on a point slightly above everybody else’s head.

“I enjoy reading, and riding my motorbike, and doing sports, like squash or martial arts.”

That went better.

“Anyway, I’m not really interested in ordinary people, but if you have superpowers, please come see me. That is all.”

Oh God, what, why?

You go very still, and there are already snickers and whispers between the twenty or so students in front of you. You shot yourself in the foot right there. Transfer student and a cape-geek? Not that it’s false, but...

“Ah, very well, please take a seat,” the professor says before shushing the class and starting with her own material, to the metaphorical collective groan of everybody. Yay, less time to ponder your own status crashing into the ground before it even took flight.

[cont.]

>>116438
Predictably, nobody came to see you in-between classes (even if you saw some of the boys check you out not so discreetly), and you’re left wondering whether or not you’re going to eat alone in the cafeteria or if there is a freaks and geeks assigned table. You hope there isn’t.

“H-Hey, hi, heard you were into capes and hoods. I mean, you said it. Earlier.”

You look up at the red-faced blonde guy, only turning your head away from the window without lifting it from your upturned hand. Freaks and geeks it seems it will be.

“Oh, hey, I’m Tom. Haha, sorry,” he says, big blue eyes looking straight at you and hands being wiped on his jacket. Not horrible looking, but you can feel the nervousness oozing from every pore alongside sweat.

God, it’s so freaking hot.

>Ignore him.
>“...kay?”
>“And?”
>“Yeah, sure.” Ask questions. (?)
>Other (?)

>>116441
>“...kay?”

>>116441
>And?
>Other
Tom what? I gave my full name, it would only be appropriate if you gave yours.

>>116441
>“And?”
Clearly we need to take out all our anger on those around us. We won't be in this town forever, anyway.

>>116441
>“...kay?”

>Other
>"sarcastically ask him about his superpowers"

[Writing.]

You stare. And stare some more, and just before he opens his mouth to show off his inability to keep a coherent conversation again, you say: “’kay, and?”

“Um... Well...”
“What are your superpowers, Tom Haha-Sorry?” you ask, with that nice feeling of putting down someone bubbling up. He frowns a bit.
“I’m waiting here. Kinda hungry, too.”
“W-Well, I don’t have superpowers, and it’s Scofield, not Haha-Sorry. Y-You’re kind of being a bitch, you know.”

>Say stuff (?)
>Do stuff (?)

>>116528
>Say stuff
"So you're into capes then? Who are the local capes? Do fill me in."

>>116528
>Say stuff (?)
Thoroughly and angrily walk him through every single grievous slight to be made against you today, from your involuntary presence in this town to the tyrannical dress code, enlightening the half-brain to consider such things before he starts throwing insults.

Bitch.

>>116528
>Say stuff:
"That's not a nice way to speak to a lady, Tom , haha-soon-to-be-sorry, Scoffield"

>>116528
>Do stuff (?)
Glare inquisitively.

Writing.

He is kinda right, and you know he is, and he probably knows you know he is, and it’s not like you have friends at your back or anything. So you glare at him, but he keeps his eyes straight on you. You give up the staring contest first, wondering when was it that geeks started being able to look a girl their age in the eye.

“Look, I didn’t want to be here, I’m still jet-lagged, I’m not used to this freaking heat, I’ve never worn an uniform like this ever, and I’m pretty sure I shot myself in the foot back there, so yeah, I’m kind of feeling bitchy.”
“Y-You don’t get jet-lag going from Washington to Bosque, you know, Panama isn’t Hawaii, or Java, or—” he says.
“The point is,” you continue, “that it’s still not a nice way to speak to a lady.”

He frowns, looks around and behind you before heaving his shoulder in an over-the-top shrug.

“Ha. Ha, very funny. Fine. Sorry.”
“A-And sorry I said you were, um, a bitch. Bitchy. I mean.”

You still glare at him, waiting for him to go and let you wallow in your own misery.

“S-So, you’re into capes, then?” he asks after a time. You make a face for a moment, then shrug as well.
“Yeah, I guess. I think I saw one of the locals—” you start before Hail Columbia! thunders out the school speakers.

“L-Lunchbreak,” says Tom, “W-want to eat with us?” he says over the republics’ anthem.
“Us?”

He makes a gesture towards a group of your classmates, chatting as they stand up and gather together. One of the two girls sees you and waves. They look terribly normal, not really geeky or freaky. Maybe that’s only thanks to the uniform.
“That’s Francisco, Damien, Mike, Kim, and Marcela,” he says, without pointing at any in particular, though you don’t really have trouble gathering who’s who. “D-Don’t worry, I’ll make p-proper presentations.”

He starts shuffling towards them, as if he expected you to follow.

>“Hu, yeah, fine.”
>“No, thanks, I’ll uh-see you later.”
>Other (?)

Follow-up vote afterwards.

>>116818
>“Hu, yeah, fine.”

>>116818
>"Uh, yeah, fine."
Follow him, but not before checking that we're in presentable order

>>116818
>>“Hu, yeah, fine.”

>>116818
>“Hu, yeah, fine.”
Might as well.

>>116839
>>116849
>>116854
>>116864
Seems clear enough. Since Natalia is eating with those geeks, how does she go about this?

>Speak with Tom about geeky stuff
>Speak with everybody a little bit, making connections
>"Hello, boys~"
>Better focus on speaking to the girls, kind of awkward to just speak to guys like this right after meeting them

It will be the last school update for today.

>>116885
>Speak with everybody a little bit, making connections

>>116885
>"Hello, boys~ <3"

>>116885
>Speak with everybody a little bit, making connections

>>116885
>Speak to everybody about unfairness and repression that is the local dress code

Writing.

>>116885
>Speak with everybody a little bit, making connections
>Talk a bit about the dress code, what's allowed and what's not, and about the tolerance to bending the rules.

“Hahaha, what was that? Did you really think someone would go and break their secret ID? Ow! Stop it with your elbow Marcie!” says Damien in a funny accent you can’t quite place. Russian maybe?

You silently thank the dark-haired girl with the glasses for the interrpution, because you’re not sure you could really blush more than that, and you’re already boiling quietly. Tom said earlier that it was strange for the weather to be so hot for so long, for which you’ll be thankful when it stops being that way. Maybe you could yank your parents out of their paranoia long enough to go to the beach that week-end.

“By the way, why were you so late for homeroom?” asks the taller, brown-skinned boy. Francisco, you guess, he clearly looks like a Mestizo.
“Hu, dress code violation, I guess.”
The two girls nod in unison. They get it.
“But you don’t really have to wear the tights, do you? I mean, except for official stuff,” Francisco says, his not-quite unibrow knitting together.
“Well, there was that and some other stuff,” you reply evasively. From the side, you feel Mike’s gaze boring in at you. Maybe he saw you at the gates, since he doesn’t really look like the type to come in early. Cool.

After eating lunch, you and the little group goes outside and you easily convince the girls to stick with you into removing the bow tie. Marcela and Damien drift off after a while, but you don’t ask if they’re a couple or something, since if they are, they seem to be pretty discreet about it. Then, classes. Mathematics (derivatives) and History (Reagan’s assassination).

You join with the girls at the bathroom during the break to complain some more about the dress code and exchange numbers, and soon enough it’s time to go back home. You didn’t really talk with Tom about the city’s capes, but there’s always tomorrow.

Not too awful a first day. If you discount everything between arriving at the school gates and lunchbreak.

>Go back walking, the heat is starting to come back down.
>Phone Jorge to go home, you don’t trust those clouds.
>Other (?)

>>117115
>>Other (?)
Go see if you can spot that cape again

>>117115
>>Phone Jorge to go home, you don’t trust those clouds.

>>117115
>Go back walking, the heat is starting to come back down.

>>117115
>Phone Jorge to go home, you don’t trust those clouds.

>>117115
>>Go back walking, the heat is starting to come back down.
Also:
>look if you can walk home with someone you've met today.

Kinda forgot the introductions there. Well, let's do it in greentext.

Them boys:
>Damien
Clearly foreign, but you're not too sure from where. Brown-haired, white but tanned, glasses.
>Francisco
Mestizo, native from Bosque. His father is a construction mogul in the city.
>Mike (Michael)
Came from mainland only at the start of the school-year. Didn't disclose anything else, really. But he looks kinda tired, with huge bags under the eyes.
>Tom (Thomas)
From mainland originally, has been living in Bosque since he was a toddler. Blonde, not very tall (that is, your height), as bad with heat as you are.

Them girls:
>Kim
Chinese-American at a guess, her mother handles a lot of the administrative mediation coming with the extension of the Panama Canal.
>Marciela
Native from Bosque, looks intense, and rather discreet. Glasses.
>You
You.

>>117156
Any particular person you'd like to ask?

>>117129
Counts as going back walking, I guess, yeah?

>>117156
Seconding

>>117191
Let's walk with Mike.

Rolled 1 (1d10)

>>117231
Alright, writing.

>Any particular person you'd like to ask?
Not really, just anyone who's available. But if Marciela is available, it'd be good to chit-chat with her about the area and customs here.

Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>117242
>Rolled 1 (1d10)

I wanna roll dice too!

Rolled 9 (1d10)

After telling goodbyes to everybody, and pushing Damien away when he tried to kiss you on the cheek, you walk down the paved path from the main building to the gates searching inside your bag for your phone, inevitably in the last nook you check. You pull it out and start searching for Jorge’s number, settling against the cooling brickwork of the school’s walls when you notice Mike lazily walking down in the same direction as your home.

You check the clouds, and decide that they’re white enough not to threaten to break into a tropical rain by the time you get home, and call for your new friend.

“Hey,” you say with a little hitch in your breath after catching up.
“Didn’t we say goodbye to each other already?”
“Well, I didn’t know you went home the same way. Or are you the dark lone wolf type?” you reply. Not flirting, just making conversation. Yup.
“Oh, I totally am, just not with pretty girls,” he says, totally not flirting either. Just a compliment.
“Um.”
“Just joking, there was a pebble in my shoe, just a coincidence you called me at the same time.”
“Right, right.”

You kinda kill the conversation, not altogether used to full frontal compliments from anybody that isn’t your family.

“So...” Mike starts.
“Yeah?”
“Do you really want to meet up with capes?”
“Will you let it drop already?”
“Fine, fine,” he says with a little laugh.

After a moment, you say: “I guess. I mean, maybe it’s just because they’re famous or whatever, but that does sound kinda cool, you know?”
“Even if they’re dangerous and all?”
“Well, everybody can be dangerous. At least they advertise it, what with the costumes and all.”
“Not all of them,” he replies with forced laughter.
“Hm, right.”

Kinda killed the conversation again, hot stuff.

“Excuse me, Miss Campbell?” says a man’s voice from behind. You stop and turn around, and a van stops screeching at your level in the street, sidedoor already opening.

“It’s Campbell-Se—” you start correcting the fatigues and sunglasses guy, before seeing the gun aimed at Mike. You can feel your eyes go wide. “Wh—”

Mike ducks and grabs your arm, tries to get past the man who called you out, but a spatter of concrete followed almost instantaneously by a sound very much like a loud firecracker stops him in his tracts.

“Fuck,” he says under his breath. “Stay calm, don’t panic,” he continues to you, just before other men in similar garb force both of you into the van.

It’s only after they put a dark bag over your head and tie you up (hands together, feet together, then hands to feet), that you start screaming.

>>117520
>9
Spicy.

Anyways, that's the last update for today, sorry about that, but I really have to go. I'll check the thread from my phone if you guys have questions, and the next question will be either tomorrow afternoon if I don't get home too late, or definitely Saturday evening.

More info laters on Twatter: https://twitter.com/AlterationQM

And thanks for playing along this long-winded introduction.

CLIFFHANGERS

>>117545
Do we have superpowers ourselves?

>>117652
You're getting them. Soon I'd say.

Well, there's really no use in being coy, you're actually getting them right there, that's what the roll was for. I'm using Wildbow's trigger system (https://docs.google.com/document/d/17WIAhETdtVGSKzFuDYOT2_6U_MMXmTGyzCziYhCwozo/mobilebasic?pli=1#h.oiypiniejplc), if not the setting, and I think what fits best that situation are three different kinds of powers:

>Stranger (Powers related to stealth, infiltration and subterfuge.) - Attention of a group/individual threatens emotional/mental security
>Thinker (Perception, knowledge, skills, this includes precognition and remote vision.) emotional or mental strain, reaching a crisis point in a short period of time.
And maybe
>Breaker (Physics kind of tickle. You alter yourself in such a way that rules apply differently.) - Abstract physical danger or harm, difficult to define pain or stress (not mental or physical.)

I'll do a proper discussion about powers at the start of the next thread, but I don't see any harm in having a little something now.

Rolled 19 (1d100)

>>117894

Try to SUPLEX someone.

I can't see the link on mobile.

Hello?

>>125809
Quest later today.

>>126273
Perfect.
Kinda tried to keep it alive.

Also remember the autosage limit.

>>126317
We still have a full day ahead, I'll probably use this thread. In two or three hours time, I have got some tax thing to do. Also, buy bread.

Writing.

File: 055.jpg (1.18 MB, 1366x1938)

1.18 MB JPG

Waiting warmly.

File: 1445730517237.jpg (2.06 MB, 3032x1986)

2.06 MB JPG

“—increase in ah, uncannily gifted invidividuals seems to cyclical in nature, following what our statician experts a, I quote, ‘regular sine wave of growing angular frequency with linear incrementation of its equilibrium’. In other words, ladies, gentlemen, our problem gets worse faster.”
—Minutes from the Select Committee on Abnormal Phenomena

You’re panicking, you can’t help it. You can’t even move properly, and the zip ties cut into your wrists and ankles the more you struggle. You’re screaming, you think, not sure if it’s you or Mike. Probably you.

“¡Cállate!” says a gruff voice before pain blossoms at your side.

It doesn’t help, and your mind whirls around trying to keep up with every last bad thing that could happen. Oh, God, you have to go, you can’t stay there, they’re going to keep you, they’re going to kill you, they’re going to do every bad things somebody like them can do to somebody like you, you have to go, and it’s black in there, you’re having trouble breathing in the black bag, they don’t understand, you still sleep with a night-light, it’s too black...

Like stars, winking out.

You come back to yourself, a timeless moment elapsed, something new tied to you. The panic is still there, threatening to do away with your senses altogether (or maybe you’ll drown into your own tears and snot), but you can do something. You know you can.

What can you do?

Alright, time to determine power(s). Our protagonist just triggered (from the 9 I rolled above) and given the situation, the kind of powers she might get are in the “Mover” category, with potentially some minor additional power in the “Shaker” or “Striker” category per the Weaver Dice classifications (https://docs.google.com/document/d/1e-H--GkPrbJq4WRNYndBnjjLjE7-2kOZkjwltkP1Ong/edit#heading=h.gjynmtlqmfp5).

‘Mover’ refers to power related to (you guessed it) movement. Teleportation, flight, speed, and things of that nature.

‘Striker’ is for touch-based and melee effects. For example, Cockblocker from the Worm serial was one, and could freeze in time whomever he touched.

‘Shaker’ qualifies powers with an area of effect. For example, Shatterbird and Vista were both of that type.

I had the chance to discuss the trigger event with Wildbow, and he had an idea for a power that I think is quite neat: teleportation, with a minor offensive Shaker power like an electrical pulse upon teleportation.

If everybody is cool with that one, I’ll go with it, but you’re more than welcome to discuss the actual power(s) Natalia gets, this one is just the default. And yes, I thought about some kind of plant-based powers (hence the title), but I think it’s more fun to have a random trigger, and let you guys determine the powers.

>>127021
What kind of teleportation? From the desire to be far away, long range seems more probable, maybe with the electic discharge being "left behind" so to speak.

So… she teleports away and everyone near her previous point gets a nasty electical discharge.

Alternatively, movement along the lines of Jiggawatt from Grrl Power, without any of the additional lightning based powers?

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>>127021
>teleportation, with a minor offensive Shaker power like an electrical pulse upon teleportation
Sounds neat. I'm cool with it.
I'd imagine we'd teleport to somewhere we feel at home, and I guess since we moved, the closest thing would be our motorbike?

>>127021
Sounds fine.

>>127068
Wow, way to abandon Mike!

>>127083
>>127021
Iunno, can we take other people and/or objects with us?

Rolled 10 (1d10)

>>127066
>Jiggawatt from Grrl Power
Isn't she just about lightning?

>>127066
>From the desire to be far away, long range seems more probable, maybe with the electic discharge being "left behind" so to speak.
Yeah, something like that.

>>127068
I was thinking a bit less powerful than that, but again, I can roll a dice. Let's see.

>>127091
Wow, okay.

Uh. That's a really powerful teleportation power.

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>>127091
Crit, woohoo! Unless you're doing roll under...

>>127096
Where is the table you are rolling on, I’m kind of confused by that rulebook, so I don’t know what we have to play with on a 10.

>>127096
Does it have to be teleportation?
I mean, Mover can be all sorts of things. I mean, we're a striker shaker, so maybe we can make anything we touch into a vehicle, or something related to the whole darkness theme of the trigger, like creating portals through shadows. Or giving more focus to the striker/shaker, touching things to throw them way the fuck away. I think with striker/shaker we should be moving things around us instead of just ourselves, while the major mover aspect just makes it something really potent, maybe just teleporting an area, though I think that's already a power in worm.

>>127111
Well 3 peeps already voted okay on teleportation.

>>127111
A cool power could be moving anything in area around something or someone you touch except for what you touch.
>>127115
Yeah, just spitballing ideas, since that's kind of a cookiecutter power, and usually powers in worm are more convoluted.

>>127104
It's from the other book on those things: the https://docs.google.com/document/d/1hqJy4YEDqpKLwbatFVBLXnhs7dDTNykSYtDUCiR9ZBo/edit?pref=2&pli=1

>>127111
>Does it have to be teleportation?
Absolutely not, no. I just rolled to see how powerful was the main Mover power, but everybody seemed fine with teleportation. That's a realllly powerful Mover power to be honest.

>>127121
What did we roll on the luck chart?

Rolled 2, 4 = 6 (2d4)

>>127131
The perk and flows, right? Kinda forgot about that one, I was on the old rulebook. (Not that I'm not using the entirety of the system)

Rolled 1 (1d47)

>>127138
One power flaw, and one power perk. Let's see.

>>127119
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I'm not too familiar with the setting/system, so if Wildbow, the creator, came up with the idea for our power, I'm fine with it.

>>127156
You can still offer ideas!

>>127142
So, we have:

>From the trigger event:
Major power related to movement;
Possible minor powers with wide area effects and/or touch based effects.

>From the perks and flaw:
A versatile powerset, that gets kind of "locked" once a particular aspect has been chosen for the duration of its use;
The powers also either heightens or deadens emotions for some time during and after their usage.

So, what I'm thinking is... A powerful teleporter that can choose to teleport either herself or others, with maybe a minor additional darkness-related shaker effect (like shadows clothing the subject after/before it's teleported), discarding the taser thing. Thoughts?

>>127174
I kinda like the taser effect. I already justified it in my head as being the manifestation of emotional/metaphorical shock of being left behind by someone. And it's not something that discriminates between friend or foe.

>>127174
https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1aHyZ7c7TIgt903mPinOakrgli2WZu5IRtiGYPCnCqDE/edit#gid=178101184
Take a look at the power generator for some inspiration if you want.
I like the gate aspect since it fits mover/shake. I think relating to this particular trigger, teleportation powers would fit, though it'd have to be something strong.
I was thinking that with the striker class added to the mix, maybe a power that allows the MC to draw some shapes like a line that she can later travel along instantly, or circles she can make portals out of. Not sure how much this fits her personality honestly, but I was thinking it'd be cool if she just drew a line while the car was moving or later while driving her bike and then just suddenly teleport back to somewhere she was driving before.
It's not an instant power and requires some power, but I think that allows for versatility and requires some thinking while fighting.

>>127199
Well, I guess we'll keep that, the justification is kind of nice.

>>127200
I think it's kind of stretching the minor Shaker and Striker components, to be honest!

Anyhow, writing.

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>>127233
Waiting warmly.
Unless someone else has any other ideas, the images I'm posting are basically how I imagine our character now, given her oriental heritage

>>127255
Not quite Western enough! Her father is a good ol' American man.

>>127260
Iunno, I know some people of mixed race that lean heavily towards one parent or the other.
But QM fiat, I guess.

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Better?

>>127233
The powers fine, I just don't think it's a classification 10 power

>>127346
Perhaps it being class 10 just means we can teleport further faster, better, stronger and more often, instead of making small jumps and waiting to recharge.

You're using classifications in the wrong way.

They're not meant to represent the power level, they're how big of a threat you are if you go all out.

With a 9 rating the PRT allows use of missiles to take you down for an example.

>>127393
I understand that, but the power level certainly informs the threat. For a Mover, it's fairly straightforward. Strider or Doormaker were easy tens, for example.

>>127293
I like it if you like it.

>>127393
That's the original purpose intended by the PRT, yet protectorate capes still get classifications and threat levels.

>>127393
>With a 9 rating the PRT allows use of missiles to take you down for an example.

The good kind or the bad kind?

>>127346
>>127366
>>127400
>Mover
>Threat level 9+: Higher office and PRT offices in nearby or neighboring cities should be notified of possible threat or retaliation in case of confrontation.
Sounds like (extreme) long range teleportation fits the bill.

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>>127414
That, or rapid cycling teleportation (think Nightcrawler).

Almost finished with the update.

>>127400
Because they might need to take them down later?

They could possibly decide to leave and become a villain, go insane because of mind fucking from the very generous amount of things capable of doing that in Earth Bet, get raised as ghosts by Glaistig and used against them, get turned into things like MurderRat by tinkers like Bonesaw, etc.

It's a crapsack world that requires constant vigilance.

>>127414
Regular teleportation is so boring in comparison to literally any other power in worm though. Even with the shock thing.

>>127414
I think a threat level 10 mover would be like that guy from india that though he could kill behemoth or that other guy who could make things move relative to each other.

>Striker
>Threat level 9+: None.
>Changer
>Threat level 9+: None
Eh?

>>127433
There are no special ways of dealing with a Stranger or Changer of that rating.

>>127433
No real standard protocol you could take against them I guess.

You have to get away. And you do.

The sounds of the van disappear and you find yourself tumbling on the ground, crying out from pain as you shed speed on concrete. You lay there for a while, whimpering, wondering when the next punch or kick will come, when blood seeps from your forehead onto your closed eyes and forces you to blink. You see light coming from a tear in the bag, and you manage to move enough to see a crowd, and the school gates.

You didn’t dream then. You got away.

“M-Mike?” you say, weakly. “Mike?!”

He doesn’t answer you, but some of the onlookers turn around and see you prostrate. They come over with a cry, attracting more, until you’re surrounded by ten or so people. Students and passerbys, who fuss over you, clip the zip ties and free your head, provoking a throbbing pain in your neck.

“Don’t move her! You, there! Yes, you! Call the emergency services!”
“Where’s Mike?” you ask to the crowd.
“Miss? Do you hear me? What’s your name, can you tell me your name?”
“Where’s Mike?” you say more forcefully.
“Is there a Mike here?” says the man in the suit who seems to have taken charge, looking around the little gathering, but you can see he isn’t with them. You left him in the van. And it was your fault, they were searching for you. Does he even matter to them? Are they just going to kill him?

“Miss, can you lie down? We’ve called the emergency services. You’re hurt and you shouldn’t move until they come, do you understand me?”

You understand, but Mike isn’t there. He’s back there, alone, and it’s your fault. Maybe you can find him, you can feel something stirring in you. Propelling you forward. It wants to be used. But you feel hazy, and the pain in your neck is starting to radiate towards your head.

>“Yes, yes, okay, okay.” (Lie down, wait for the emergency services)
>“No, no, I have to find Mike, I have to go.” (Use your power to get away from them and search for the van)
>Other (?)

>>127440
>“No, no, I have to find Mike, I have to go.” (Use your power to get away from them and search for the van)

>>127440
>"No, no, I have to find Mike, I have to go." (Use your power to get away form them and search for the van)
Panicking teenager, HO!

>>127440
>“Yes, yes, okay, okay.” (Lie down, wait for the emergency services)

>>127440
>“No, no, I have to find Mike, I have to go.” (Use your power to get away from them and search for the van)

No Mike left behind!

>>127440
>Other (?)
Call your gorilla chauffeur and ask for backup

Writing.

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>>127479
Waiting warmly.

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“No, no, Mike, I have to find him, I have to go,” you say, trying to sit up. You stop and close your eyes when your neck throbs in agony, and the three-piece man takes advantage of that moment to put his hands on your shoulders and nudge you down.
“Miss, I have to insist, you’re in no state to move.”

But you are, and the first skip leaves you with a smell of ozone in the nose, halfway through a kneeling position. The second gets you to the place they took you, where they took you and Mike, and after that you come close to hysteria, as images both real (“Hey, watch where you’re going, girl!”) and imagined (a gun to Mike’s head, the finger of a man in fatigues pulling the hammer) whirl past you.

But you find the black van, or a van, you don’t know, you can’t be sure, the only windows are at the front, and they’re tinted so dark they almost look like one-way mirrors. There is a pungent smell in the air, more and more, as each torturing step makes you skip forward towards the van stopped at the red light.

What do you do?

>>127567
teleport in front of the stopped van.

>>127567
Try opening the door.

>>127573
seconding

>>127567
Curse at yourself for not grabbing whatever those people back there used to cut you free, that might have actually been useful.

Then start attempting to probe the location. Gotta find Mike, and preferably without teleporting right into the sights of a gun.

Just caught up! And just in time for voting.

Do that >>127573 but can we try to teleport inside if they start moving?

>>127591
Yeah, that's a good idea. I'll add this onto my vote as well.

Writing.

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>>127600
Waiting warmly.

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You have to see, you have to get close. There’s a rushing sound in your ears as you skip again, in front of the vehicle. They took him, so you have to find him. It can’t be any other van, it has to be this one, it just has to be. You don’t listen to the exclamations of gawkers when you take another step, edging towards the driver’s door. There’s a small clap, and bright flash between your extended hand and the metallic bodywork of the vehicle.

You see movement where the driver should be, and the van starts screeching in reverse. No, no, no they’re not getting away, you have to find Mike.

And you find him.

“Fuck!”
“Where do this puta come from!”

He’s there, blood streaming from his nose, and the man who grabbed you holds him by the hair, but he’s there. And they didn’t kill him, he’s still alive, and it’s like your heart is leaping from joy—tears well up in your eyes, everything is going to be fine, he’s alright!

“Fuck, it’s her, she came back!
“She a fenó?!”
“Don’t fucking move.”

The two other men are still scrambling to get their weapons ready, but the leader, the one who called you out, the one who knows your name, the one who punched Mike and hurt him even though he hadn’t done anything wrong, levels his gun at you.

Another emotion replaces joy as fast as joy came. Hatred for him, for everything about him, you won’t ever look at a guy with sunglasses without feeling utter contempt, you despise the crew cut balding on his temples, and if you could just... Just touch him.

Damn, what is wrong with me?

What do you do?
>Restrain yourself and don’t move. He has a gun, and he has Mike.
>A gun?! You can’t fight that! (Teleport: Flight)
>Touch him. (Teleport: Fight)
>Other (?)

>>127709
>Touch him. (Teleport: Fight)

>>127709
Touch him. (Teleport: Fight)
Can we teleport behind him, "nothing personal kid" style, then touch him?

>>127709
>Touch him. (Teleport: Fight)

>>127709
>Touch him. (Teleport: Fight)
Well he's not pointing the gun at Mike, so this isn't a hostage situation yet.

>>127722
>>127734
>>127736
>>127737
Fight it is!

Give me a roll. 1d10, higher is better.

Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>127749
Oh man, I just remembered the dude from X-Men First Class
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F5pcqKBy1H4

Rolled 8 (1d10)

>>127749

>>127758
A sexy tail poking from under a skirt is my fetish.

Rolled 5 (1d10)

>>127749

>>127765
8 is above par for such an easy opponent.

Writing.

Update might be delayed, I have made the acquisition of food.

“Just fucking shoot her, man, she’s a cape!”

But it’s too easy for you to close the distance, touch the hand holding the gun with two fingers, and make him gone. Mike’s one good eye goes wide and you wink at him while a large smile spreads on your face. You look over the other two men, turning around. They too have stopped moving, their hideous mugs gone stony with astonishment. You walk towards them, and they scramble away until they can’t anymore, but they shouldn’t worry too much about that, they’ll be gone soon.

“How does it feel to be cornered rat now, uh?” you ask them. “When you wanted to hurt me, or kill me, or—”
“No, man, it was just—” says the white guy with an English accent. You’re so sorry to share ancestry with him.
“SHUT UP!” you yell. “Shut the fuck up, shut up!”

You’re shaking so much, it’s almost weird.

“Juan, huye! Huye, she’s a crazy fenó!” shouts the other man, the native, his skin oily and greasy. He is banging against the driver’s cab, shouting over and over again until you make him gone.

“No, please!” says the white guy with a snobby accent. The fucking arrogance of him. After he’s gone, you stay there, heaving from fury, until your hear Mike grunting. Oh God, he’s bloody, they hurt him, the monsters, the brutes, the—

“’m fine. Just a little beat up. Could you...?” he says with a little motion of his chin to his hands and feet bound together.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry, I forgot, yes, sure, just let me find something, just wait,” you say, and look over the back of the van. Surely there is something right, like a box-cutter (fucking monsters, probably going to gut you with that), or a knife, or something, but you can’t find anything and...

“Um.”
“WHAT?” you say, whirling around, tears in your eyes. You can’t even find something to untie him, what if they come back, what if—It’s too much, you choke up on words and on your breath and your wounds wake up and howl at you, the world goes round and round until it goes black.

[cont.]

>>128319
“Natalia? Natalia?”

Your eyes flutter, and then you cry out despite the gentleness of Mike’s shaking. You feel like crap, and your flayed knee just hit something pointy and cold.

“Good! You’re finally awake. Listen, this isn’t going to make sense, but hear me out. We have to get out of here,” he says, mangling words thanks to his swollen lips, which the LED strip lighting of the van make look even worse, “you just sparked, right? First time using your powers, right? Then just listen to me, I know this sounds crazy, but you need to come with me and we need to get out right now.”

It comes back to you. You feel your face go white and your heartbeat rise steadily. You were going crazy back then, and you agree with Mike, what he’s saying does sound like more craziness. You swallow the nasty thing at the back of your throat before speaking.

“Why?”
“We really, really don’t have time for that right now, I’ll explain on the way. Hear that? Those are police sirens. We need to beat it, fast.”

He stands up, and starts pulling you up.

>“Let me go! Why wouldn’t we want the police? We’ve been kidnapped!” (No)
>“You really need to start making sense, fast, then.” (Yes)
>Do/say something else (?)

>>128326
>“Let me go! Why wouldn’t we want the police? We’ve been kidnapped!” (No)
Where did we send the guys, though? Or did we just send them nowhere specific, just "gone"?

>>128326
>“You really need to start making sense, fast, then.” (Yes)

Missed the start today, but I'm pretty happy with the powers! Should be really interesting.

>>128326
>“You really need to start making sense, fast, then.” (Yes)
If she's a cape geek, she should know not to compromise her secret identity

>>128326
>“You really need to start making sense, fast, then.” (Yes)

>>128354
We already shat on our secret identity when we teleported in front of that crowd right after we triggered. And when we used our powers on the kidnappers who we don't actually know where we sent.

>>128384
Oh man, guys, let's please not turn into a villain.

>>128384
So long as nobody got a clear photo of us, a couple eyewitnesses shouldn't cripple us.

>>128399
In true Worm spirit, we'll have to be a ~good~ villain. The good guys are clowns, anyway.

Writing!

>>128343
That is an excellent and most puzzling question.

>>128399
But... Where is gone? Is it a place that exists, or..?

>>128411
>So long as nobody got a clear photo of us, a couple eyewitnesses shouldn't cripple us.
We teleported in front of our school and kept calling for a certain Mike. The authorities will know who we are, either because someone who knows us saw us, or because someone the officer simply looks at class photos from that school, or because we are too hurt to go to school for a while.

>>128436
>>128343
>>128447
I mean, if it was you, where would you teleport some bad guys while under the effect of an emotional rollercoaster?

>>128458
Up.

>>128458
Nonexistence

>>128458
>>128506
If I had to pick a real place...Siberia? Death Valley?

>>128528
The bottom of the ocean is easier, imo.

>>128458
Diagonally upwards.

Guys, Mike is probably a cape. He can help us figure this whole thing out.

>>128533
But not as suffering. The abyss will outright kill you in minutes, whereas the two I mentioned are some of the most desolate places on Earth.

>>128458
Randomly near the maximum range of my power? So probably on the other side of the world they are randomly ejected from some shadows.

>>128593
>3 years later, the three goons show up, vengeful and armed with years of martial training under the uncontested masters of their new art: Shitpost-fu!

Sorry, it's a monster one.

“You need to start making sense, fast, then,” you say while letting Mike pull you up. You wince when various bruised bits and open wounds get squished by the necessary motions for walking, or at least hobbling. A steady stream of curses emerge from your mouth as you both make your way out of the van. The setting sun makes you squint, but you can see easily enough to note that there is a lot of people around. Kids, grannies, people stepping out of their cars to take a look, gawkers all around. It’s rush hour in Bosque, after all.

“Do you know if you can teleport us both away? This is way too public,” Mike says, lowering his head. To hide his face?
“What?”
“Hmm, given how loud you are, you probably can. I just hope that little taser thing you have going on doesn’t get me again, that was not pleasant, I tell you.”
“What?” you repeat. You frown, and you don’t scrub from your tone the annoyance you feel: “Listen, stop bullshitting, just te—Hey!”

He pulls you to himself, squishing your face against his chest, keeping you close with an arm around your waist. You try to push him back, that’s a bit too much intimacy for someone you just met today!

Gonna just make him go aw—

“Too many eyes, on us,” he whispers, his mouth an inch away from your ear, “do you see the building on your right? N-nno, your other right. Yeah, that one. See the one with the flat roof? Can you get us there?”

Well, you don’t know, you’re kind of a novice at this stuff.

“Just try.”

You do, skipping across distance as easily as breathing in, and out.

“Ow, fuck me!” cries out Mike, hopping around and flapping his hands, “God, this hurts. Fuck!”

You start to giggle, he just looks ridiculous doing that.

“I mean, it’s a lot better than the one earlier, but it feels like I put my whole body into a power plug!” he says, and then peers at you, eyes narrowing. “Hey, how are you feeling? Fine?”
“Haha, oh yeah, that was too funny!”
“We’re kind of on the run right now, and there were people trying to kidnap you, you know,” he presses on, coming closer.
“I know,” you say with a giggle, and then the situation hits you like a cold shower. “Oh God. Shit.”

Mike says something under his breath, and then pulls you in the same embrace. “Listen, we’ll do another one, closer to our destination, and then we’ll walk. Sorry to say, but your power makes you a lunatic.”

It’s fairly hard to concentrate, all scrunched up against him like that, what with you being a girl and him a guy, and it’s not like you know each other very well, this is very embarassing, and not thrilling at all, not at all.

[cont.]

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>>129112
“So, yeah, your power kinda screws up your emotional state, I think,” Mike says, while you both make your way towards God knows where, “but otherwise, it’s fairly straightforward. I think. I mean, I don’t know where you actually sent those three guys.”
“Death Valley,” you reply automatically. “Up?”
“Seriously?”
“I... I think so, yeah.”

Now that you’re calmer, you prod your feelings about that. They’re probably dead, or dying. Funny, but you don’t actually care.

“That’s... Wow, okay,” he says, before getting quiet again. After a moment, he says: “That changes things. We could use your power, I mean, we could use your help. But we’ll have to meet m—the others, they don’t want me babbling about. Which is probably me babbling too much already.”
“We? Who’s we? And who are you? How do you know so much about my power? I barely believe I have one, and you’re telling me all those things I only half-understand? Conservation of velocity? Area of effect high voltage low current induction? What is this?!”
“Excellent observation skills?” he offers.

You stop in your tracks, and glower at him.

“Listen, I can’t force you, and probably nobody can hold you if you want to get away. Long range, out of sight teleportation with offensive capabilities? Please, girl, you won the jackpot.”
“I really only have your word on that, though,” you say, frowning. “The stakes have to be high for you not wanting to even see the police when I could... I could become a superhero.”

He shrugs minutely, and lets a crooked smile appear on his face.

>“Fine, I’ll talk to her now.”
>“That sounds good, very good in fact, but I have a curfew.” (Go home, after all, tomorrow is another day!)
>“You’re seriously creeping me out right now.”
>Do/say something else (?)

>>129122
>“You’re seriously creeping me out right now.”

>>129122
>“You’re seriously creeping me out right now.”
Fucking Thinkers

>>129122
>>“You’re seriously creeping me out right now.”
First things first: Our secret identity is already gone to shit and we need medical attention. We can drop him off wherever he wants, then we’ll go to our parents and collapse or something.

His secret is safe with us and we might help in secret, but we can talk about that in the future.

>>129122
>“You’re seriously creeping me out right now.”

>>129122
>>“You’re seriously creeping me out right now.”

>>129122
>“Fine, I’ll talk to her now.”

>>129122
>“That sounds good, very good in fact, but I have a curfew.” (Go home, after all, tomorrow is another day!)

>>129122
>“You’re seriously creeping me out right now.”

Writing.

I have a few issues with editing. Bear with me.

>>129169
Just noticed that the chosen option doesn’t fit my write-in.
>“That sounds good, very good in fact, but I have a curfew.” (Go home, after all, tomorrow is another day!)
is what I meant to have.

This will be the last one, I'm starting to get distracted by bells and whistles.

“You’re seriously creeping me out right now.”

You’re not a cape geek, you just like extraordinary people. Like Munshin, or The Five. Like someone who can skip across an entire city, or send people plummeting to their death. Maybe, for that last bit. But it’s the picture in your mind, horrible little men sent into a valley of shadow and death. But there’s just a little bit too much extraordinariness in Mike, or rather, not the right kind.

“I can’t help it. Tom might be fascinated by you guys, but it’s more like a calling for me.”
“You guys?” you say, before taking half a step back.

Again with the shrug and smile.

“I take it that you’re not going to speak to anybody today, are you?” he asks, seemingly unconcerned.
“I’ve read an article, you know, about the Congress wanting to introduce a new category of people like us guys,” you say, “people with serious deductive skills. And other stuff. Saying they were probably the most dangerous of all, since they could run rings around the others. People like us, you know.”
“I guess I’m not walking you home either? Not that you need it, but I would’ve liked that. I was serious when I said you were pretty, you know.”
“I’ll see you at school, Mike,” you say with poise. He’s not going to distract you with half-assed compliments.

He scratches his nose, looking away.

“I doubt it, Nat. Can I call you Nat? Anyways, I’m waiting to see more of you in the news. I have no doubt you’ll be quite a sight.”
“That’s it?” you ask, a bit dismayed.
“I don’t think you’re ready for our way of amusing ourselves just yet, I think. I’ll see you later, a’ight?”

You watch him go for a while, half-wanting to simply skip over and get him to talk to you again. You killed people for him. And he’s just going like that? But reason gets the better of you, and under your power...

Scratch that.

You limp back home step by step, already thinking about how you’re going to explain your sorry state to your parents.

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[Really sorry for the lateness on that one, I think I'm getting tiiired.

And don't worry, it's not the last time we see Mike, or "her" (fuck my editing skills). Next time probably Monday, and we'll meet the last part of the family. I think. Probably not much more than that. And figuring out how our whole stuff works exactly.]

Comments and questions always welcome!

>>129667
Thanks you for writing. Time to sleep for me, so no questions.