Hal Henderics

"He helped stop several million dollars worth of drugs from being shipped god knows where by The Merchants. I don't think our decision to refrain from a fight you apparently won with ease was a wrong one." "If there's one thing I know, it's that you got extremely lucky. Lung has survived fights with things stronger than all of us put together by orders of magnitude." "An exception to the rule does not disprove it." "I'm very pleased you managed to get that fucker put behind bars, but everyone there was a mistake away from death." If it is possible to look haunted in a full suit of armor, Soma manages it with her tone.

"I'd very nearly agree. Not every member of the E88 is doing it because they ascribe to it's beliefs though." And the plot thickens as Soma responds.

"I'm not sure it matters for you guys, it isn't like you have civilian identities in this world or anything." Somatotrope shrugs. "They think of themselves as the revival of a really old group known simply as Nazis. They preach white supremacy, hatred of any non-white race, and any other traits that are problematic."

"They can go straight to hell if it is, I'm sure as heck not giving them my real name. Anonymity is encouraged, considering what people will do to you here if they know who you are." "New Wave tried that whole "Accountability" and "Open Identity" stuff, and it ended with Fleur being killed in his sleep by some random mook looking to swell his rep in the E88. Kaiser had him killed for it, but you can't take back something like that."

At the PRT Headquarters: 8:45 The Gang arrives at the PRT, ready to sign the papers needed to be officially recognized as an independent parahuman group. Entering the Building, they are fast tracked towards the Ferry which will carry them all to The Rig, one of the single most fortified locations in Brockton Bay. They are given information as needed by their PRT Squadron babysitters, who take the noble role of standing around and looking a normal amount of intimidating. Being Shunted onto the ferry at last after several people talk to each other across various communication channels and several things are approved, the party stands or sits in the tinkertech enhanced boat, which, in no time at all, is sent zooming across the bay, at these speeds, with the water spraying in glittering gold motes, the bay almost looks like a decent place in the morning light, if one squints hard enough. Hopefully, squinting won't be required, in time. It is on this trip where agency is once again returned to the gang, who, until now have more or less been moved around arbitrarily by the wheels of burocracy, spinning rapidly with the lubricant of the unspoken threat of letting an independent group of powerful parahumans slip through their grasp, and the boon of having that same group set on the path of orderly and righteous aid to the heroes of the city.

"Grenades, Glocks and Assault Rifles. You pull the pin on a grenade, throw it, and then hide behind something before it explodes into deadly shrapnel, the other two are types of gun." She says.

"Honestly, if you already took them, I don't see any good that can come of returning them. We could toss em the PRT's way, or keep them." Soma picks up one of the Glocks, Examining it, turning it over, chambering a round, and then unloading that same round. "Does anyone here even know how to use a gun? Half of you guys are like, wizards or something, right?"

Soma walks over to the plane, putting a hand to her head, which quickly morphs to her sliding the hand up her helmet to rub between her eyes. "Ok, whatever, Tie Fighter, I didn't need a secret warehouse to hide from the Empire anyway."

6:00 AM, Tuesday? Probably? Yes, Tuesday, sure. The sun rises slowly into the sky, lazily brushing aside smog as if by the hand of god, or perhaps some other golden nigh omnipotent figure, who knows. The point being, it is now morning, giving those at the warehouse time to prepare, and the people at the PRT building more time to steal those little plastic cups of coffee creamer and chug day old coffee in turn. Those who are confused about the circumstances have things re-clarified again by someone or other. It seems today, the gang will be going to the PRT East-Northeast Headquarters, to sign papers affiliating them to the PRT, granting them permission to do something or other to the boat graveyard, and test their various abilities. The pile of van wreckage smoulders lightly in the morning light. Man, that tinker-gas sure burns for a while. Gently nestled in a nest of gravel just outside, a few hundred dollars sit, stored away safely for the coming winter. Soma's warehouse, after cross referencing, calculations, and peer-reviewed study, is finally revealed to be pretty much one of the biggest pieces of shit in the docks.

<"Fine by me, Fugly Bob's at 3:00, Formal Wear optional. See you then. -A friendly neighborhood tattletale">

The response comes quickly enough to satisfy Harry. <"That's fine, me and my friends just wanted to have a talk with you and your friends, you really got us out of a pickle there with that big guy and his little entourage, and our mutual Bug-friend certainly didn't hurt matters either. Want to set up a meeting after your playdate tomorrow?" "I like the name, by the way. Very telling ;). -A friendly neighborhood tattletale">

Dackly runs up to Soldier Battalion B and Petrifies them right in the face! Gozer, meanwhile, uses Deleterious Bomb to throw an immediately gratifying bomb at DT Warrior Battalion A! "Oh Man that was Cheesy, Gozer. Wow!" Dackly groans good naturedly, leaping over one of the resulting smoking corpses to get at her enemies. "Actually, those were bombs." he says, flinging a quickly and poorly made explosive at the skeletons. "Seriously though! You guys are kinda going to die if you don't lay on the ground and surrender, considering this is war and all!" Dackly shouts, as green light explodes from her eye.

"Armsmaster's an ass, Piggot is a rather horrific woman with a hate-boner for parahumans, and Dragon is the single greatest tinker in the world, and one of the most powerful parahumans." "Specifically, Armsmaster's power is apparently his ability to make technology more compact, his halberd has like, a million tools and weapons in it. Dragon can reverse Engineer Tinkertech, and is also a genius besides." "The two are apparently really buddy-buddy, if you believe what they say on PHO."

"Oh, well, that's easy enough." Soma responds. "Oh... How does the old pneumonic go. Mover, Shaker, Brute, Breaker, Master, Tinker, Blaster, Thinker, Striker, Changer, Trump and Stranger." "Those all refer to various threat classifications that the PRT use to label Parahuman abilities." "I have a powerful Shaker ability, Shaker Abilities are ones that let someone affect a wide area with their power. I also have other ratings across the board as a direct result of my ability." "Movers have mobility powers, shakers have powers that affect an area, Brutes are strong or durable, Breakers can change into another state, Masters can control things, or make minions, Tinkers make machines that are so far past what we understand in this day and age that it's practically magic, Blasters have a ranged power, Thinkers have powers that give them information, Strikers have a power that relies on them touching something, Changers can alter their body or appearance, Trumps can manipulate Powers themselves, and Strangers have powers that let them sneak around, or infiltrate places."

Proditor would find Harry, Brain-deep in a computer full of such intriguing information for someone who isn't leaking out of a damn hole in their chest. Getting his attention is simple enough.

Skidmark NPC Sheet

"I don't believe mundane engineering skill would have allowed you to make those repairs. My suit did similar calculations for load bearing and ideal repairs automatically, and it finished them after you." Armsmaster interjects simply. "We aren't a hotel, nor are we a library. That said, I believe we can accommodate those simple requests." Piggot responds to Kusuke and Harry. "Tomorrow at Eight is fine. Bring your team here then." -- (Post your Loadout now.) Skidmark attacks Somatotrope, firing a gun at her, and dealing (RES CHECK, 13, 8) (1d20=8) ((1d6+7=6+7=13)(+2)(-5)=10) 10 damage! The bullet pierces her armor, and after that, her leg. It seems Tinfoil is of limited, but possible, use against Bullets. Emboldened by this attack, Somatotrope uses Rapid Expansion Railgun, firing her Rapier Gun at one of the Junkie Vans, and enhancing it's damage with 10 Needles. The sword, held in her hand like a rifle, suddenly erupts into a straight and razor sharp rod, dealing (1d20=1) (2d6+8+10=8+8+10=26(-2)=24) 24 Damage! The Sword blade and Sharp Needles Puncture through two of the vans, catching them alight! Skidmark, Squealer, and 4 Junkies have their Fight for Love Passive activate, causing them to deal more damage when a beloved target is heavily damaged! "My Money!" Skidmark yells, cursing loudly. "My Vans!" Squealer shouts furiously. "Our Drugs!" the druggies cry out Skidmark attacks Arminius, firing a gun at him, and dealing ((1d6+7=4+7=11)(+2)(-1)=12) 12 damage! The bullet hits him in the arm, causing a sudden bloom of blood from hydroshock. Arminius grabs a and fires it at Squealer, dealing (1d20=2) ((1d6+3=4+3=7)(-1)=6) 6 Damage! She is brought down low by the humbling nature of a bullet glancing one's foot, her cursing increases. Skidmark attacks Fingers, firing a gun at her, and dealing (1d20=17) ((1d6+7=6+7=13)(+2)(-1)=14) 14 damage! The bullet hits Fingers in the side, missing valuable organs, but still not placing itself in the most ideal of positions. Squealer rips a wrench out of a pouch at her side, and flings it at Arminius for shooting her, (11, 2) Honestly, her grating voice and crude language did more damage to him than the wrench managed. Skidmark attacks Proditor, firing a gun at them, and dealing (1d20=8) ((1d6+7=6+7=13)(+2)(-1)=14) 14 damage! The bullet slams into his center of mass, but unlike filthy humans, he has no vital organs there. This makes the experience no less pleasant. The Junkies, finally free of being stunned, begin to fire their guns randomly, dealing 1 Damage to all allies! Skidmark is preparing something... Kinetic Panels begin layering over one another. Whatever that preparation was for, Proditor has a more immediate threat to lay on the table, (3, 11, 4, 16, 7, 2) All of the Merchants fail to shield their minds as Proditor unleashes Telepathic hell across the battlefield, dealing (3d6+8=11+8=19) 19 Damage to Skidmark, Squealer, and 28 Damage to the Junkies! Squealer, instead of dying of a fried brain, instead simply has an ordinary Grand Mal Seizure, falling to the ground in throes of psychic backlash, thrashing violently. Fingers smashes into a Junkie who tries to get away, leaving him on the ground unconscious as well. By this point, Skidmark realizes the better part of valor, and spends his remaining two turns leaping over to Squealer using his Speed Panels, and then fucking off in the last remaining van, crashing it through the warehouse door using some sort of Laser Cannon hidden in it's engine. Status Initiative -- The Remaining Junkies are in no mood to continue the fight, either remaining unconscious like good little criminals, or surrendering. Somatotrope, Arminius, and Proditor each gain 1 Merit. Proditor gains Arminius gains Other loot includes Arminius's Perk can activate now, if he so chooses. The essence of a great defeated foe wafts in the air, like the expulsions of a frightened and escaping animal.

"We don't hire Mercenaries, M'am." Piggot's face changes to a much more neutral one. "Clearing out the Boat Graveyard? You know that's government property, right?" "You wouldn't be getting paid a fair amount if you did, even after getting the proper paperwork." She leans back. "Assuming you don't have a problem with that, I'm sure as a Protectorate Affiliate, we would be obligated to push forward paperwork that might speed up you having legal precedent to do so." "We have the facilities on-board the Rig to test a wide range of parahuman abilities, even... expansive ones... like you claim to have." "If you can bring your entire team here in the future for a proper meeting, I can get the paperwork in order for you to read over, and inform the people who need to know." "Full Protectorate Members receive fair wages, and operate under PRT supervision. Tinkertech made by Protectorate members is property of the Protectorate, and There are other conditions based around scheduling, public events, and appearance." "As for Power testing, give us a bit of notice, and we can get the testing suite ready. Same stipulation for any meeting with Armsmaster. I'm sure Dragon has her own schedule for you to work with." "Actually, I can easily make accommodations for something as valuable as this. I'd say 5 minutes notice and a location will give me enough time to send a small drone your way, or videoconferencing, if you like. I look forward to helping develop any sort of technology that might be useful to our shared goals of helping others." Dragon continues from there, speaking to Lilly "Preliminary data shows a distinct lack of sea-life in the graveyard itself. I doubt you would get much with your Master Ability, if it is limited in that fashion."

Drug Busters -- As the Doors Slam Shut and a War Cry of Stellar proportions, The Merchants are suddenly assaulted by the gang! Skidmark's Sandbagging Passive makes his Dex be considered Zero for calculating Average Dex! (19, 12) Proditor easily sways one of the merchants into destroying the drugs he has with Psionic Control, throwing the drugs to the ground and stomping on them, before shooting the bag with a gun. Arminius Inspires Fingers, granting her 4 Bonus strength for 2 turns! Fingers responds by bashing the shit out of nearby Junkies, dealing (1d4+5=3+5=8) 8 Damage! Two of the junkies go down screaming, and then silent, unconscious. Somatotrope uses Stormfront, throwing a handful of gravel into the air, and extrapolating it, dealing (8d2=13) 13 Damage, split among all targets, as the rocks and dirt suddenly explode into jagged shards and boulders! Two more Junkies go down, one of them with a leg pinned beneath a large rock, about the size of a car tire. "What the Shit?! Augh! Kill these fuckers!" Skidmark uses Speed Panel: Defense on Himself, Attacks which deal less than 4 Damage instead deal 0 for 3 turns, as he places a glowing square of kinetic force in front of him to push away attackers! Somatotrope uses Stormfront again, dealing (8d2=11) 11 Damage, split up among all targets! One more Gangster goes down like a sack of bricks as a baseball sized chunk of crystal cracks him in the head! Skidmark uses Speed Panel: Enhance Speed Panel on himself, granting his Speed Panel: Defense Buff an Extra Turn of Duration, and Doubled effectiveness! It now takes 8 Damage or more to damage him at all, as he layers another panel over his defense panel! Skidmark uses Speed Panel: Attack on himself, adding 2 Damage to his ranged attacks for 3 Turns, placing a glowing square of kinetic force in front of him to speed up his projectiles! Squealer runs to one of the doors, but it's Barred! Skidmark uses Speed Panel: Speed on himself, granting him +2 Dex next turn, as he places a thin band of kinetic force to either side of him in case he needs to move quickly! The Junkies are Stunned by everything going on! Skidmark uses Speed Panel: Blockade on Somatotrope, reducing her attack by 2 Next turn, placing a panel of Kinetic Force directly in front of her! Squealer runs to one of the vans, trying to open the doors! Status Initiative

(15, 11) Piggot spends a long moment in silence. "Fine. I'm going to make you a very simple deal. I'll pretend to believe you, even though none of it adds up, and you all register as Protectorate Affiliates." "That means Power Testing, Paperwork, and a Heads-up if you decide to do something that flips the board of this city's carefully balanced situation again. You want to help Brockton Bay? I'd like to keep it in one piece, and a bunch of ignorant parahumans running around without any supervision, oversight, or coordination with local authorities is going to rock the boat entirely too much for my people to keep a lid on it." "In a perfect world, this would be the part where I convince you to Join the Protectorate and PRT as full members. But I think we both know that is hoping for too much." Her grimace is pronounced at this point. "You've all shown up with one good mark on your record. That makes me want to believe you, and it also means I can't. It is not made easier with very strange behaviors you are all too willing to claim are a ruse. Being willing to work with us, however, will." The lady on-screen at this point pipes up. "I'm very interested in just what you all have planned, this many new parahumans, Tinkers, shakers, and all, are bound to quickly become a powerhouse if your potential is cultivated. I'm sure Piggot would also be interested in such plans, if you believe they will help with disaster relief." Armsmaster nods. "I agree with Dragon, simply having seen what your Tinkers are possibly capable of, I would not be opposed to working with you on joint projects. I'm sure we have much that would be worth sharing between our groups." It is at this point that Piggot Steeples her hands together. "I want to know a lot of things about what is going on here." "But I will be satisfied if I can get your cooperation and disclosure of what your plans are."

The woman in question fails to shake Ambassador Jun's hand. "Director Piggot." she says simply, before gesturing after her. Following along, the party would eventually come to a room full of vaguely comfortable chairs, already seated are Armsmaster, and several unknown figures, a male in red Body armor, looking tired, but grinning widely, a woman in a bodysuit covered in a circuit pattern, who looks doubly tired next to him, A younger person in a dark red outfit, and a Video-screen, on which is a woman with very plain looking features. At the back, a woman wearing fatigues and a USA-print bandanna stands simply. Piggot herself takes a seat in front of a stack of papers which is impressively high. Slowly easing herself into position, she settles, before taking the stack and straightening it, slowly and meticulously. "I'll admit, this is a bit out of left field. Could you explain whether or not this is a prank?" she says. When nobody answers, she continues, shortly after. "Because I'll be the first to admit my sense of humor is lacking, and that I honestly don't find it funny if it is." "A group of around 10 Parahumans, powerful ones at that, appear out of nowhere in my city, oblivious enough to not know extremely basic information, but savvy enough to participate in a battle with lung, prevent massive collateral damage, and then aid in his capture and the evacuation normally reserved for exactly this type of situation." "I'd really like for what you say next to convince me that a group with massive Master/Stranger backup hasn't been wandering the country, picking up drifters, and then blowing it all to target my city. Because that's what these." she says, pointing at the stack of papers. "Strongly imply." If nothing else, the woman seems to be a genius at taking the best news and warping it to apocalyptic proportions. The Red Armored guy has covered his mouth with a hand by this point, while the video-lady smiles encouragingly. -- Everyone is in position, The doors have been barricaded without incident, and the druggies are nearly finished putting sacks to vans. With a word, all hell is going to break loose.

"Yes. Dragon is widely considered the greatest tinker worldwide." Armsmaster says simply. Sitting on the front porch of the Apartment Condeminium, a taxi eventually makes it's way by, where a hilariously drunk woman makes her way out of it, and is spoken to by PRT troopers. The child in Lilly's arms wriggles their way free, shouting "mommy!" as he toddles over to her. How unnerving, it seems to be in the proper authorities' hands now though. The Gang, given the offer, more or less universally accepts Armsmaster's offer of a ride to the PRT Headquarters, those who opt out making their way after the two vans containing the party. Before long, after An Hour, the gang arrives and sits in a lobby of uncomfortable chairs while a high priority meeting is apparently being set up due to tonight's events. Finally, the doors open. A rotund woman walks out, in heels and wearing a rather gruesome expression on her face, like she smelled something sick. She motions to the party. "Come with me, the meeting room is ready." she says plainly. -- Moving into various positions, and preparing in general, the group recieves word from the main group that they might be late to get to the warehouse, that's fine, some of them might think, as they too will be late. About An Hour passes, each time the gang is about to jump in, the situation becomes juicier, Proditor's Mind reading at first picks up very little of value, before more people arrive, each one being high enough up the chain of command to know a little bit more. It seems Cocaine is the least of their worries, as the white powder is a Tinker-Drug from Boston, which the Merchants have been hired to transport safely through Brockton Bay and onwards to New York, using the Vehicles of a Tinker named "Squealer". Her specialty, Vehicles, seems to afford the Merchants the privilege of Glorified smuggling for someone named "Blasto", something which carries with it the offer of a 2 Million Dollar Cut of the profits. The actual purpose of the substance is unknown, seems nobody needed to know this "Need-to-know basis" tier info. Then things get even wilder, as the two leaders of the Merchants enter as well. Despite their appearances, demeanor, and attitude, Proditor sees past the ruse. It seems this "Skidmark" person is terrifyingly smarter than he seems at a glance. Squealer, meanwhile, is being fed a near constant stream of knowledge through her Psychic Link, which Proditor has thus far seen in all Parahumans The knowledge seems to be the methods by which one can produce nearly impossible machinery from mundane technology, by exploiting very rare occurrences, circumstances, and information, such as the planet's superposition in the universe, and the overall temperature of nearby hydrogen molocules. "OK Cunts, if I see so much as a grain, a fucking granule, a speck on the ground of this shipment, I'll make sure the only thing you're smoking is you on the ground!" Skidmark shouts, with a smile that betrays his pleased mood. "Yeah, fuckers, we'll all be scrooge-mc-ducking it up for years after this haul if none of you dumb shits fuck it up. Just get it in the trucks, and get those trucks on the road." Squealer continues, holding a remote control of some kind in her hand, which she fiddles with. -- Players have an assumed hour, in which they can do as they please within reason. The Characters at the PRT are assumed to be in a Van, and then a Lobby for an hour, while the Characters surrounding Skidmark's Den are assumed to be near it.

"It is good to meet you all. I am fine, simply receiving communications from a good ally of the protectorate and myself." "Yes, Lung is a very dangerous parahuman. Enough to single-handedly wrest control over a massive amount of territory." "My Armor is of my own design, though I have received Assistance from Dragon on some fronts." He says, shaking Jun's hand briskly "We will be meeting at the PRT HQ Building. It is very noticeable." Looking off into the distance, a large building does seem to indeed stand out against the skyline. The PRT Squad cuffs the gangsters there, loading them into another van, and drives away. "Will you require transportation?" -- Provided the Gang goes back, Soma, Arminius, and Proditor would see a window, which, when looked through, reveals a bunch of figures in sketchy clothing shoving handfulls and handfulls of cocain into bags.

The Child shakes their head, apparently, their mother went out for something or other, leaving the Toddler home alone.

"My own Coffee is a Tinkertech Synthetic Coffee I derived from work done by Asclepius in Oklahoma, though that on the Rig is simple storebought. Why, do you have a sensitivity of some kind?" Armsmaster looks at what Harry is doing, but understanding full well how Independents work, He seems to not care that much, as Harry grabs two handguns and 156 Dollars off of the Gangsters. "You all clearly have heroic, or at least vigilante leanings. I noticed your work on the buildings and evacuees. I have no intent on arresting you for helping arrest one of the most dangerous capes in the city." Armsmaster walks over, spraying Lung with some sort of chemical, which expands into a massive bubble of foam. It's around this time that a Van comes in, and Armsmaster does some motion with his head, before wincing. Out of the Van come several individuals in armor who scrape the once-Lung off the ground, and into the van, before walking around the area and talking over radio. -- With great Ease, Proditor finds a fairly decent concentration of worry and smugness in equal measures, along with thoughts of drugs en-masse nearby, behind a building they just passed.