BlessedWrath

The Gifted: A Fast Paced Superpower RP

Shen gazed out across the city skyline. He regretted it; his memories of the shoreline, walking with Sensei, always intruded on such events. They would visit the beach and contemplate reality together. But those days were a year gone, and Shen had acclimated himself to a far different reality. Still...gazing out at the horizon gave him a distinct feeling of reminiscence of those days. He scoffed at himself as he remembered carrying 40lb weights in each arm, trying desperately to maintain the Crane Stance on any given one of the wooden stumps which lined the piers. Sensei was with him still, despite his death over a year ago.

When he looked into his mirror, he felt the distinct impression that there should have been one less man staring back at him, but Shen had "always been Shen". It was odd, the sort of mental gymnastics he had to complete in order to forget his previous life. In times of self-doubt, he always had Sensei to turn to. He remembered proverbs, exercises and thought experiments, but never those six years during which he could not produce any tangible memories. He often entertained himself with the idea that those years were not worth remembering, as Sensei had given him his life in return.

Still, Shen's expression was forlorn in the picture window which faced west in his pretentious apartment. Why had he settled here, when the alleys and back-streets had always been good enough for his training in years past? He allowed himself to believe that Sensei would have wanted it; that he somehow would have predicted this paradise for him. But it was a comfortable lie.

Shen decided on some meditative kata before he would allow himself to be seen again. His students would expect him to show up on-time, after all. Even if they were Hollywood cream-puffs, they deserved every bit the same respect Sensei had shown him.

"Sensei," Shen mused. "What have you left me to do?

The Gifted: A Fast Paced Superpower RP

On the subject of public chat, I often find TitanPad to be exceptionally useful, both for coordinating OOC chatter and for collaborations. Combat can be resolved quickly and efficiently, while still allowing for questions and discussion on the side, as well as GM input and rulings, all in real-time. It's free, it's easy, and it works. Documents saved to TitanPad will go for two years before being deleted due to inactivity. Editing even once in that timeframe resets the two-year timer.

In other words: It's perfect.

By the way, I believe I'm in the roleplay at this point. Hi, guys! Looking forward to some plot.

Unlikely Heroes

My vote's for the one on the right.

Unlikely Heroes

That'll be the high-voltage power transformer in the workshop. You'll get used to it.

Unlikely Heroes

If I haven't said it yet, I would like to make it known that I'm happy to be a part of this group. Thank you.

The Gifted: A Fast Paced Superpower RP

I've been away. I'm trying to slowly make my way back into the roleplaying scene, though. It's hard to get back into the loop.

The Gifted: A Fast Paced Superpower RP

Interested. Will have to read up when able. I have a new concept I've been working on, but it may be a bit on the long side.

Unlikely Heroes

Sam; "I'd stay away from the toast."

Unlikely Heroes

Wilson frowned, still processing the phantom pain which seared his head. It had happened precisely when he came within arm's reach of Pat. Ordinarily he'd write it off as a coincidence, but he knew what the serum was capable of. Still, it didn't seem like Pat had any reason to want to harm anyone. Could it be an involuntary effect? Was it even necessarily something he had done? All these questions had to be forced into the back of his mind in order for him to answer the one question which presently mattered most; how to aid the man.

"Pat, you're disoriented." He examined Pat's eyes, which appeared to be quite dilated. That, accompanied by his speech patterns and loss of equilibrium, led him to the unofficial diagnosis of a migraine. It wasn't certain, he had to admit, but it made the most sense given the circumstances. "Stay here. I'm going to get some medication for your head."

A quick shuffle through his bag produced an anti-inflammatory drug which he hoped would reduce the effects of the maybe-migraine. That was the trouble with being a doctor and treating Supers; one never knew if their symptoms were a sign of a genuine disorder or simply a byproduct of the serum. In fact, he was taking a tremendous risk by dosing a patient without first testing the potential reactivity of his medications with the serum itself.

But that would be sort of difficult, wouldn't it? he admitted. Just my luck. Years of research, months of planning, and all it takes is a bad driver to ruin everything.

Without any guarantee that the drug would work at all, Wilson tried to help Pat to his feet. "Pat, listen to me. You're going to need to rest for a while. I need you to have a seat." If his luck held out, he'd have the chance to find out what was causing the pounding in his own head. That thought brought back all those questions from moments earlier.

Pat, you and I need to have a talk.

---

2:38pm
Sam's Quarters

Wilson sighed, scanning the printout spread between his hands. To his left, Sam lay on her bed, several electrodes attached to her head. Beside her bed, on a small cart, an odd little machine spewed paper containing the same spiky lines as what he held in his hands. He discarded the early copy and retrieved something a bit more recent from the electroencephalograph.

"That's damned strange," he said again. "These brain waves are indicative of telepathic transmission, and yet..."

The limited medical equipment Wilson had to work with in the Reformer base all told him the same thing: Sam was and was not telepathic. Some devices confirmed that a distinctly different and unique brain wave signature was present in her mind that did not conform to any known autonomic or conscious function of the human brain, while others designed to test for telepathy, empathy, telekinesis and other telepathic abilities measured nothing at all.

"She's emitting something," he mused.

Just then, the EEG fluctuated. Wilson split his attention between the paper in his hands and the readout on the screen. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

"What?" He slapped the monitor half-heartedly, both out of confusion and frustration. Now here was something which made no sense. EEG could fluctuate, yes, but not this much and not in this way. Sam was dreaming, yet the changes in data flow were indicative of conscious thought. There was also that damnable rogue activity he could not identify. A hunch caused him to compare the rogue wave with the fluctuations in data flow. They were a match.

"That can't be right," Wilson told himself. "That would mean..." He stole a glance at the unconscious girl, who made a face at precisely the same moment that a new spike in activity occurred. "She's doing this."

---

Attention DPickle

Had to take some liberties with Pat, in order to make a sensible post for Wilson. This post is by no means permanent and can be edited. If you would like to make any changes, please contact me and we can throw it up into the TitanPad. As for everyone else, if changes do need to be made, and you've referenced this post, please bear with me while we sort out any inconsistencies. Thank you.

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Unlikely Heroes

Meanwhile, Ranae's perched on the counter, sneaking nibbles from a corn on the cob, eyes darting to the side, wearing a shirt that says "You don't see me".