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  #1  
Old 03-30-2009, 04:05 PM
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The Cold Streets of Boston

The year is 2002. Fifteen years ago, a mysterious atomic disaster known as 'The Glow' struck the Eastern Seaboard, enveloping nearly half the continent in nuclear radiation. The effects of The Glow at first were subtle and went unnoticed, but nearly two decades later, this is about to change.

Mutations have been reported all over the country. Survivors of the blast developing strange, startling abilities... previously understood and genetically impossible. Scientists, geneticists and nuclear researchers have come to believe that mankind is stepping into the next stage of man-made evolution. The Children of the Glow, as they are unofficially called, have become the talk and frenzy of our generation. Atomic Super-Men that live amoung us, most of them secretely. Carrying on their lives as ordinary members of society.

But others... for others, this is the dawn of something else entirely. A new age of injustice, oppression, and persecution. And at the same time... a chance to turn atomic devestation... disaster... into a miracle.

Out of The Glow, comes a story. Yours.


The cold streets of Boston are a dangerous place. While the town had never been truly safe at night; the Glow had increased crime. It seemed that many of the people gifted with these strange supernatural abilities were not opposed to simply taking what they needed from those less fortunate. While this was a terrifying concept for most unaffected humans, lucky the police forces of 2002 weren't slouches, and had quickly been gifted with an "Anti-Glow" Squad known only as the Shadows. No one knows a lot about the Shadows, only that they seem to use extreme tactics and technology to deal with the "Superhuman" threat.

In the city recently, there have been a string of armed robberies, all commited by different people. Most of the people have been caught later, but according to the news, the money is never recovered. Whoever is doing this must be Superhuman...

OOCFeel free to place yourselves on the streets of Boston. For sake of uniformity, it will be around 8 pm at night. I'll wing it from there to bring you together in some similance of cohesion. Note, there is a slightly opressive governmental element, so your characters will want to do something to hide their identities and be hard to track down.
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Old 03-30-2009, 04:45 PM
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The Children of the Glow

When everyone else went home to their families- to their televisions sets and beds and locks, when the god-fearing people of Boston turned in for the night, the streets seemed to take on a spiritual quality. It was around this time fifteen years ago that Haz Mat teams were sifting through the ruins, searching for signs of life. How simple the world must have been then, when people hated one another for only being people.

It was around this time, fifteen years ago on that day, that a young boy named Ian Kerrel was found in the back seat of a locked car, alone. Maybe it was the vehicle that saved him from the radiation. Maybe the plastic in the glass deflected something, or the rubber in the tires grounded him. Maybe there was no reason.

But maybe there was another altogether.

It wasthis thought that Ian found himself pulled away from as the bus shifted again, coming to a skittering stop next to an appartment complex. This was his stop, but he didn't live in this building. Stepping out of the bus, the night air bit at his face and his short black hair provided no warmth to his ears and neck. He pulled the collar of his coat up and shuffled along the street, to where the lights ahead advertised drinking, merrimaking, and a good place to commit a crime.

Was this what he'd become? Skulking through the night, looking for trouble? Something in him said so, but another insisted that this was all he had the capacity for. Until he completely understood The Other... why it called to him each night... he would have to follow his instinct. He had to do this, he decided, because otherwise the same old questions remain: If he could prevent one murder... one theft... why not the others? How could he choose who to save, and who to sacrifice? The only answer was that he had to at least, in his capacity, try. This would be enough, for now.

Tonight was different, somehow. He felt different. Unlike the nights before, spent chasing mostly fruitless leads. He'd heard about the local robberies and break-ins. Money involved that keeps dissapearing... someone with powers was misusing them. Exploiting others for personal gain. This had to stop.

For one reason or another, Ian felt as if tonight, it would.


Intuition Roll
Dice Roll:
(as this is an older post, these rolls are interpreted by the older (more basic) dice roller code)
d20+3: (12) + 3 Total = 15

Last edited by Cheaplaffs; 04-01-2009 at 04:40 PM. Reason: Add dice roll.
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Old 03-30-2009, 05:58 PM
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All Good Things Mend

Mister Suicide watches the city he once knew buzz bellow him with a lively grumble, a murmur that used to speak volumes to the vigilante. Sweat clung to his face under the mask he wore and for the first time in his life it bothered him. Life was simple once, the answers would flow like blood from a wound and all he had to do was find the right thug and ask the right questions; but now things were complicated. The rain came down in sheets now, harder than before. He sat silently at the edge of a building, an invisible shadow against a backdrop of endless pipes and stained bricks; structures soaked in more than just water. What had happened to the city that had readily accepted him with open arms as it's defender, gave him the ability to right the wrongs that no one else could? In a society where justice is outlawed, there is no room for second chances or loose ends not tied up. Mister Suicide was an end that they would have to find first.

This city sings a different song now, and it sounds more and more like a dirge every day. Even the parasites in this dying cow can feel the vibrations and hear the moans and know that the end is near. The answers are too complicated now to be interpreted through the mindless scum and vermin, so he would have to ask someone else.

Mister Suicide knew the cops had it all wrong; these robberies are linked and there is nothing random about them. The closest he had ever come to getting a point in the right direction came from a gangster turned government informer. However after extensive interogation, Suicide did nothing except for reinforce what everyone had been telling him all along: these crimes did not root from organized crime.

Then there was only one option now. Someone from the government is behind this, and they are superhuman.
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Old 03-31-2009, 12:09 AM
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The traffic on the streets of downtown Boston at 8pm were as usual: Hell. Mack slowly made his way through midtown in his old beat-up Ford Ranger. He sat alone smoking a ciggarette with his only companions: the horrid music on the radio and some idiotic executive's laptop computer who thought it would be a good idea to host a LAN game of F.E.A.R. over his office network.

Of course the motherboard was now fried.
Stupid! If you want a gamin machine, go buy one. Dont take an old IBM t-42 and force it to do something it was never designed to do. Stupid!

Mack sighs heavily as he pulls to a stop at another in a long line of red lights.
Man I could go for some hash browns, scattered smothered and covered! Shame the closet waffle house is in north carolina.

The light changes and it begins to rain. Washing the grime and the dust of the day down to street level. Smearing Mack's winshield with a thick layer of grease that only busy streets can create.
Oh just f'ing great.

Mack makes his way out of the downtown district and the traffic lets up a bit. He is able to get his old pickup up to highway speeds at least. The music on the radio end its incessant replaying of Britney wannabe's and the announcer comes over the airwaves.
**Boston police continue to be baffled by the string of robberies in the residential areas. Several people have been questioned and a few arrested on charges of petty theft. None of the money has been recovered yet. If you have any information on any of these cases you are encouraged to call into the Boston Police Dept at 555-5123. Now back to the music, next up another 24 hours of poppy crap! Keep it locked on BFMH your Big F'ing Music Head Radio!**

Mack yells at the announcer at his last bit. ARRRRRRHHHHHHH

Mack tosses his ciggarrete butt out the window as he pulls into the parking lot of the Best Buy where he works. He has only to drop this machine off so that he can take a look at it tommorow morning.

A few minutes later, the laptop is locked away and a case notes log is written for the repairs to do.
Check motherboard, probable inverter card fried. Check NIC, likely friend. Check Hard Drive, customer states it wont load to OS. New image, complete rebuild, sucks to be that guy.

Mack gets back in his truck and heads home to spend another in yet an increasing long line of nights getting drunk.
At least Boston people drink some decent beer.

A block away from his apartment complex, Mack pulls into the local supermarket and buys a twelve pack of Sam Adams and heads home.
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Last edited by dhibidy30; 03-31-2009 at 08:20 AM.
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Old 03-31-2009, 06:43 AM
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“Man, can you believe that chick?” – Man, I am so buzzed right now.

Michelle Danvers tried to hide her irritation as she grinned and agreed with the boy. Behind them, the party was slowing down at about the same rate the alcohol was running out – the volume of the music had lowered and the lights dimmed. It didn’t much matter; the passed-out drunks weren’t going to wake for a while anyway. “Oh God, I know right! Who knew Maddie was such a whore. I don’t even know what came over her.”

“Yeah, it was like she was a completely different person.” – Drunk chicks are so much fun. “Hey Mish, are you, like, sober? I swear, you’re the only one who can stand properly.” – Both her parents are lawyers, aren’t they? She’s gotta be pretty straight-and-narrow, huh.

She resisted the temptation to rub at her temples. Running around in a drunk mind had disorientated her more than she’d thought; and for all her efforts, all she’d gotten were a few kisses. Madison had a good rack and decent legs, and an air-headed brain that was easy to enter, but who knew the boys this part of town had so much restraint? “Yeah, I’m a good girl alright. Not. I just don’t bowl over from two glasses like you losers.” Michelle gave the boy a small punch on the arm, almost knocking him over in his delicate balancing act.

Woah. What’s up with her? – “Aww, don’t be like that. My macho dignity is much offended.” – Manly chicks are the worse.

“I am not manly!” She snapped at him, causing him to momentarily jump on the spot out of shock.

****! – “Woah! Oh man, did I say that out loud. ****. Mish. God. So sorry. I totally didn’t mean- I mean, I didn’t, er…I’m drunk, I’m an idiot, sorry?”

But with an irritable flick of her hair she had dismissed him and his house, and Michelle Danvers was off to the dark streets of Boston with an ache in her head and another in her chest. She walked quickly, trying to wash off the disgust from the feel of Madison’s body, the boy’s unspoken words, and her own self.
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Old 03-31-2009, 04:55 PM
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A lone figure broke the stillness of the street and Mister Suicide dropped down from his concrete perch. The city was a graveyard tonight, and what wasnt dead was only speeding up the process. Even from across the street and several dozen yards away Suicide could tell she was a young woman; mostly by the way she moved. The place she had come storming out of was at one time in the evening a lively magnet of commotion; a perfect place to sit and wait for crooked cops to show up and loot what goodies they could from the party. Unfortunately, no pigs arrived to the slaughter.

Mister Suicide followed her for a distance, not for any particular reason except they were headed in the same direction. The ability this place had to attract police faded a long time ago, and keeping to someone's shadow in these vacant streets was the best way to go unnoticed. Until he slipped.

Taking a wrong step and botching a jump from a rooftop to a balcony, Mister Suicide fell fifteen feet and landed on top of a steel fence. Luckily, the arrow-like tips of the fence managed only to peirce his torso and none of his vital organs.



With a thunderous groan and sickening thud, Mister Suicide pulled himself up and off the top of the fence and rolled down into the street. Due to the sudden loss of blood, it took a few moments for Suicide's vision to return to normal and the majority of the blood to stop pumping from the now closing wounds. The whole ordeal must have been some spectical, and likely to attract quite a bit of attention.
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Old 03-31-2009, 08:27 PM
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The night air was cold and it brushed against Gavin's face as he walked the streets alone, He normally would have taken his car but for some reason he felt like walking this night. Where he was walking to not even he knew, but the streets of downtown where scattered with people, people he could care less about, people who would judge him and want him dead if they knew what secret he had. He had been walking for about an hour and a half listening to his i-pod with the volume loud to drown out the out side world. He noticed alot of cute girls that normally he would have spoken to but tonight he felt uneasy, as if tonight something bad was going to happen. He was approaching a coffee shop and decided to stop in for a drink and to sit and rest, he opened the door and waiting in a line 3 people long Oh come on! just hurry up and order... Luckily two of the people were together and as he approached the counter the worker smiled "Hi, how may I help you?" which was not heard due to his blasted music. Taking the earphones from his ears she repeated herself "Hi how may I help you?" she said this time with a little chuckle in her voice, "Um, yeah could I have a small frappuccino", "Sure thing, That'll be $2.28". He handed her three dollars and insisted she keep the change, he sat and waited for his drink while looking around the room and the almost filled coffee shop Something just doesn't feel right....
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Old 04-01-2009, 04:58 PM
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And so it came to pass that Mister Suicide suffered yet another horrible injury that hurt, but left no real lasting damage. Those around Michelle should post in italics any emotional or "loud" thoughts, because she automatically picks those up. Mister Suicide's general "Oh god why does it always hurt" should probably be loud. What he thinks after the vicious stabbing might not be, but the initial painful thought will be loud.

Ian's Intuition tells him that though he's not in danger, this would be a great night for a robbery. Better than some of the others, and they've all been kinda reckless. Ian notes a coffee shop just down the way, and suddenly notes a very nervous kid walking into it.

Gavin will notice a nervous kid, maybe eighteen years old, walk into the coffee shop. He looks around the place for a moment as if looking for someone in particular, then walks up to the counter. To the woman's cheery greeting, he produces a small handgun in reply. "Give me the money and no one gets hurt!" He shouts, his voice cracking on the threat.

Mike's supermarket is right next to a coffee shop, in which he notices a young man waving a gun.



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Last edited by Alera224; 04-01-2009 at 05:03 PM.
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Old 04-01-2009, 06:03 PM
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Heroes.

Just by the way the silence seemed to cling to the night air, Ian could tell something wasn't right. It was like everyone was holding their breath, waiting for something to happen. His heart began to beat noticeably faster as he spotted a nervous-looking young man approaching the coffee shop. It wasn't way someone with innocent intentions would appear. Without thinking, Ian followed behind him, keeping up maybe fifteen or twenty paces behind him.

It didn't take long for the boy to confirm his suspicions. Throughout the whole thing, Ian kept thinking this could go easier than he expected. With luck, he could just scare the kid off without incident.

"Hey, man..." Came a rather modest, soft-spoken voice from the doorway. "Take a look at yourself for a second... you don't reall want to do this, do you?"
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Old 04-02-2009, 04:37 AM
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Sigh...another chump trying to act tough, and another guy who thinks he can make a difference with words. I'm getting outta here before i get involved. Walking in an almost to casual way up to the counter "Excuse me" he says to the guy with the gun as he interupts him and motions to the cashier "Could you hurry with that frapiccinno please?".
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Old 04-02-2009, 05:53 AM
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Mack was walking out of the Publix with his 12 pack of mind numbing ambrosia when he saw the man with the gun in the coffee shop next door.
HOLY SH!T!!!

He thinks to himself:
Of all the stupid things to do! Why in the world...What in the hell are those people doing?

Mack sees the odd behavior of the passerby and the equally odd behavior of the customer inside the shop demanding his coffee.
They have lost thier damm minds.

It is said that in times of stress thatt one gets to know the true self. What Mack learned tonight was that he was another one of those damm fools he was looking at.

Walking calmy into the store with his case of beer Mack finds himself. Not really even sure why he is doing it. The fear of death hangs in the air like a fog bank so thick that even a butterknife would not cut it.

Finding his voice Mack says:
What in the blazes of hell are you doing? Is getting a few dollars out of a coffee shop register worth the prison time? I dont think so!

Stretching out his mind, Mack follows the currents of power inside the shop back to thier breaker box. In the corner behind the attendant, a small grey box in the wall.
There it is, which one is the lights? Oh to hell with it, all of them.

Mack closes his eyes and concentrates for a moment. He wills the breaker box to turn off all inputs. All the lights immedately go out. The register will not open and the canned indie music playing on the cd player somewhere in the store ceases. The neon sign on the store front flashes for a few brief seconds and then fades into darkness.

Mack open his 12 pack of beer and sits down in the closet chair to open himself a beer.

Mack flippantly asks the people here:
Anybody want one?
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Last edited by dhibidy30; 04-02-2009 at 05:54 AM.
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Old 04-02-2009, 06:39 AM
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Michelle shook her head. This city never does anything right. “Just when you want to get in that little bit of self-pity, maybe stretch that teenage whine quota, say something stupid like I’ve gotta be the unluckiest guy on the street…” She could see the figure now, emanating the stones-in-your-belly taste of pain that her mind was collecting. “…a man falls out of sky, dies at your feet. You’ve outdone yourself there, Boston. Cue applause, curtains, nuclear holocaust.” As if to punctuate her point, several panic levels suddenly escalated somewhere nearby – and midnight wasn’t even here yet.

“Look,” the girl drawled to the sprawled body when she reached it, “I don’t wanna tangle with the popo, so if you’re dead just raise your hand and I’ll leave you to be found tomorrow morning. There is a very good chance a hobo wouldn’t have snapped off your arm for a drumstick by then.” Her phone glowed into life in her palm and she sighed at the burden of knowledge. Just kidding, I can feel your pain right here, drumming in my ear. And if she wasn’t wrong, Michelle considered as she gave the operator the street name, the man was dealing with it better than most.
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Old 04-02-2009, 12:29 PM
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Coffee Shop
The boy with the gun starts and turns, giving Ian a hard look for a moment, Then he turns and gives Gavin an equally incredulous look. "What the? Go sit down!" He turns to the attendent. "Forget his coffee, get me the money! I've got the gun!" Then he turned to Ian, slowly freaking out. "Get outta here!" The whole time he was speaking, the gun waved at the roof menacingly. It was as if he were scared to point it at an actual person. Then another man walked in behind him, with beer. "What the?" the boy asked. He might have continued the sentence, but every light and wall powered device died.

The only illumination was the filtered glow of street lamps and the glow of two laptop screens, giving the whole room an eerie feel. "Man, this ain't worth it!" The boy cried, attempting to take off running past the people in the door and out into the streets.

The fleeing robber provokes Attacks of Opportunity from any of the people who have Combat Martial Arts. His Armor Class is 14. If you hit him, you may stop him in the shop. Otherwise, he will spend his movement leaving the shop and fleeing down the street.
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"Bonus Exp for you, you terrible person."
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Old 04-02-2009, 02:45 PM
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As the room filled with more "heroes" Gavin had a hunch that these weren't normal people I doubt any normal person would care or risk themselves to stop this situation, the most a normal person would do is call the cops.... That made him more uneasy, then the lights went out and the kid fled, he could have stopped him, but he did nothing wrong really and getting involved would cause more trouble than it was worth. "Well now that that's over with" he says looking at the cashier in the dimly lit room "How about my drink".
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Old 04-02-2009, 03:12 PM
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"Um...My Frappicino mixer is down with the power..." The Attendant replied, giving a sheepish look even though the darkness. "I'll get it to you as soon as the power comes back...Thank you people." The young woman continued, sighing happily. "What was with that guy?"
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