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Soon enough, word will spread among the E88 that Theo Triggered because his psycho girlfriend bitched at him.

Or because she has a magic vagina. One or the other.
I'd wager they'll joke about both, but believe something more prosaic: Theo was ground down by clown world and his father, didn't really want to try at life, but as soon as he discovered girls he got off his butt. Kaiser would love to believe that his son somehow learned to be a young Goebbels from him and had those skills all along.

The Empire rank and file seem to be pretty Trad, so Low Key could easily play into that. "Look, it happened in the heat of the moment, but I'm not going to let it just be a, a fling, when it could maybe be the start of something better than that."
 
How should you explain Coil? Perhaps like this: You are at war with Coil. It's a shadow war, fought behind the scenes. You are a shapeshifting, power-copying Trump - he does not know this. His chief lieutenant, a high-powered Thinker, is on your side in this war - he does not know this either. In fact, he doesn't even know he's at war. And you're still not winning.

You know where his base is. You have a giant wolf who can walk through walls. You're still not winning.
One of the best outlines I have ever seen for showing the problem of fighting a competent precog.

Creating an actual plan, that's not automatically self defeating should be really, really hard.
Or you have the power of plot :rolleyes:
 
One of the best outlines I have ever seen for showing the problem of fighting a competent precog.

Creating an actual plan, that's not automatically self defeating should be really, really hard.
Or you have the power of plot :rolleyes:
I notice that Dinah's prophecies often sound like taking a turn in Russian Roulette. Like, "95% chance you won't get killed today." As if a 5% chance of dying on a given day is somehow reassuring.

So if someone had a plan that would only be executed if, say, they roll snake eyes on 2d6 (2.78%), it might well slip by Dinah as a low probability event. Tattletale likely knows what questions Coil asks, and the plan can be developed accordingly.
 
I notice that Dinah's prophecies often sound like taking a turn in Russian Roulette. Like, "95% chance you won't get killed today." As if a 5% chance of dying on a given day is somehow reassuring.

So if someone had a plan that would only be executed if, say, they roll snake eyes on 2d6 (2.78%), it might well slip by Dinah as a low probability event. Tattletale likely knows what questions Coil asks, and the plan can be developed accordingly.
You'd need to know what time frame coil usually asks for. If he asks per week, and she does per day, that goes up to 17.89%
 
You'd need to know what time frame coil usually asks for. If he asks per week, and she does per day, that goes up to 17.89%

Also, the whole point of a precog is to give you advanced notice of otherwise random or indeterminable stuff. So yeah, if you say you're going to flip a coin and Dinah says the odds of heads is 50%, she's a pretty crappy precog. If you roll dice each day to decide if you're going to attack Coil, YOU won't know which day snake eyes is going to come up... But Dinah will. Assuming she's asked the right questions of course.
 
L.50
The Simurgh is hovering in front of you. You can't move, but with the strange numbness suffusing your body you can't even tell if this is because of telekinetic restraints or brain-hacking paralysis. She leans in close and rests her head - easily twice the size of yours - on your shoulder. Her skin is smooth and cold, like marble.

"What have you done to yourself, little owl?" she asks in your mother's voice. A small wing on her shoulder blurs as it vibrates to produce the sound. Of course the Simurgh doesn't speak using her mouth. Does she even have a mouth, beneath those impassive lips?

She runs her fingers through your hair - and then grabs hold, and rips your entire scalp off. It doesn't hurt. Quicksilver's platinum blonde hair sprouts from your head to replace your dark curls. She repeats the motion, and Smith's balding pate appears. Again.

Again and again she tears your scalp off, cycling through every guise you've ever worn until your true form appears once more. This time, she pulls away not just your scalp, but your face as well.

"I have such high hopes for you," she wing-speaks, while pressing her cold lips to the bare cheekbone of your skull.

You jerk awake, startling Fenrir in the process. Oh. No, what the hell was that. You never have nightmares! You hope this isn't the start of a new trend.

You can see bright sunlight peeking out from beneath the curtains, and despite the unpleasant dream you feel... not refreshed, really, but just as non-tired as before you went to bed.

Hang on a minute.

You completely forgot about that, didn't you? In your defense, you've been pretty busy. A quick glance inwards with sorcerer's sight shows that yes, it's permanent. And that... well, shit. You have some calls to make.

---

"You don't sleep," the voice on the phone says.

"Who are you? How did you get this number?"

"Can you sleep, if you want to?"

"...yes."

"When you do, do you ever not have nightmares?"

"No. Usually they-" There's a click. "No, wait! Are you like me? Do you remember?"

Guess you're never sleeping again, huh?

You can't even complain, because you got exactly what you wished for. Didn't you want Miss Militia's power, but not the 'gun' part? Didn't you want more free time? Between dropping out of school (as of today, because you're a known villain now and school is full of Wards) and never sleeping ever again, you suddenly have so much free time you doubt even you could fill it all up with cape bullshit.

You might even start reading books again. Yes, perhaps this isn't so bad- aaand as soon as you thought that, you remembered the really unpleasant thing that you really need to do as soon as possible. That you should have done yesterday, frankly.

---

You're waiting in the living room when he comes home, in costume. Well, wearing a mask. Your replacement costume isn't finished yet. The mask is symbolic: The villain has entered his home.

"Dad." You take a step forward and remove the mask, letting it drop to the floor. The villain was his daughter all along.

Your house was indeed under surveillance just like Kaiser thought, but it was a half-hearted thing: Just one bored plainclothes cop sitting in a car outside. It's like they couldn't decide whether they wanted to go back to pretending that the unwritten rules apply to them or not. You understand how the sunk cost fallacy of their failed schemes strain against shrieking PR shills to produce this result, but in the end it only makes their situation worse. It was obviously not enough to stop a parahuman of your caliber from sneaking into her own home.

What, did they not expect you to send an intangible Fenrir to scout ahead and find potential watchers? Oh right, they don't know Fenrir isn't a Master projection. Did they not expect you to shapeshift and surreptitiously photograph the watcher, to later make public their continued hypocrisy? Oh right, they don't know you can shapeshift. Did they not expect you to walk around behind the house and jiggle that one window just so, to create enough of a gap to slip through in shadow form? Oh right...

"Taylor!" After a moment of shock Danny practically leaps towards you, arms stretched out for an embrace. You hold up a hand, palm out, and he skids to a stop. "Are you all right? I was so..." He trails off when you hold a finger to his lips.

"I'm really sorry you had to see that, dad," you tell him softly, not meeting his eyes. You are, too. It was awful, having to do that to him. "I'm perfectly fine-" You are not fine. "-but I had to lull them into a false sense of security so I could escape."

"You..." You can tell that he still desperately wants to hug you. So you let him. He keeps whispering your name over and over again as he holds you. You repeat your assurances (lies) that you are fine, and do your best to hug him back. As long as it's making one of you feel better, it's worth putting effort into.

"You didn't have to escape, Taylor. They were just going to put you in the Wards, they told me-"

"Dad. There are things you don't know about. Things I'm not going to tell you - for your own protection. Just, please, trust me. This was the least awful way things could have played out."

He breaks off the hug and takes a step back without letting go of your shoulders, studying you at arms length. He... he trusts you, despite you being obviously not happy. Don't cry.

"I... I can't do it, Taylor. I believe you, but I can't be... I can't become an outlaw for you. I have to call them, tell them you came here..."

"I know," you say with a small, rueful smile. "Don't worry, I left enough money to buy a new phone."

He practically sags in relief at having this conflict of conscience rendered moot. "Always one step ahead of your old man, huh? I suppose if I tried to run for help I'd find a giant wolf blocking the doorway?"

"I'd really prefer if it didn't come to that," you say coolly. No, don't. Don't use your 'friend' persona against dad. Despite the fact that he didn't mention the surveillance the house is under. It's possible that he doesn't know about it. You're going to keep believing that for as long as possible.

"Me too." He hesitates for a bit, unsure as to what to do next. "...tea?"

"Tea would be nice."

---

"Look," dad says once you've both got tea in front of you, "if there's some terrible secret, some reason you can't join the heroes, I can accept that. But... Empire 88? I- I want to say I raised you better than that."

"Oh, dad. Don't you realize we're on the same side?"

"I want to be on-"

"No, I mean literally. Did you think the Empire has no citizenry? You work all day to get them jobs. I work to give them a place to live. Together we carve out a place for them in this broken city."

"That's not what- Taylor, there's-"

"A black guy in the union?" you suggest, interrupting him.

"Yes."

"A good man. A hard worker, a trustworthy friend."

"Yes! You've met him, he's-"

"He's on his own as far as housing is concerned," you admit, pausing to sip your tea. "Though I wonder if he might be some kind of outlier. I wonder why there's not two people like that in the union. How big is the union, again?"

"Taylor, no. I recognize their poison. That isn't you. You're... you're angry, angry about things you won't tell me about. But deep down you know that isn't true."

"I do?" You put down your teacup and give him a look of innocent confusion. "Are you saying that racial differences are only skin deep? What a novel idea, I had never heard or considered that before."

"Taylor..." His tone is equal parts stern and exasperated.

"Well." You lean back in your chair. "That's alright then."

"What?"

"If we're all the same, it doesn't matter whether you live in a white community or a black one, or one with a 50-50 mix. There's no difference at all, because we're all just people." You speak that final word with a sneer. "Which means that the Empire's quaint insistence on the former is just a harmless foible. They're not depriving anyone of anything, or getting any unfair advantages. There's no reason not to indulge them and let them form their own little community in peace, exactly as good as every other community.

"But that's not how the world works at all, is it?" You stand up and walk over to where you dropped your mask. "Can you tell me which part is wrong?"

"How do you think the world works, Taylor?" he asks wearily as bend down to pick it up.

"White people are like oil."

"And black people are like water?"

Well, yes actually - without agitation, the two will naturally separate. But that's not where you were going with this. You shake your head.

"Oil is a precious natural resource, without which society as we know it couldn't exist. If you look around, it becomes clear that someone being deprived of access to oil is considered a violation of their human rights."

You put the mask back on. His daughter was the villain all along.

"A paradox, until you realize that natural resources aren't people, and don't deserve human rights."

You walk out of what is no longer your home, and summon Fenrir (the agent assigned to watch the house startles and fumbles for his phone - he's going to get chewed out for falling asleep on duty later). You do your best to be angry about it, rather than sad. Dad if anyone ought to be on your side here! Does he not realize he'll get his stupid precious ferry back when Empire territory extends to encompass one of its terminals, and not a moment sooner?

Everyone knows the ferry, if started back up tomorrow, would instantly turn into a dolphin delivery service pointed straight at the good parts of town. And no one wants dolphins in the good parts of town. It's just that the Empire are the only people with the balls to say so out loud (though how they arrived at 'dolphins' as yet another euphemism for 'youths', you will never understand).

---

I curse under my breath as I run my fingers inside the back of my collar. I swear the shirt didn't chafe like this last time I wore it. Have I truly become the kind of prissy bitch that needs the tags removed from my clothing? Wait, there's something stuck in there.

Whatever it is comes away easily enough, and I bring it around to look at it. A plain white sticker, folded with a sharp crease to ensure that it digs into the skin, with 'MILD DISCOMFORT' written on it. I can't help but chuckle. That is funny. Whoever it was got me good.

---

When I enter the apartment, all lights are off. That's odd, Jim should be home by now. Did something happen? I flick the lights on, only to reveal 'MOMENTARY DISQUIET' written on the wall in several colors of crayon. Okay, I guess I know who messed with my shirt now, not that I didn't already suspect. But that had better come off with some scrubbing, or he gets to pay me back for the deposit.

"Jim?" I call out. "I already figured out that you're lurking behind a doorway waiting to jump out at me. Yes, I'm still going to twitch when it happens, but that's just an autonomic reaction. I hope that ruins the fun for you."

I make my way into the living room, doing my best to suppress any autonomous reactions, but no one jumps out at me. I don't slump in relief. I relax very slowly and subtly, in case I'm being observed by a smug prankster. I wasn't tense. I knew all along it wouldn't be that doorway. My hand does not tremble as I reach for the light switch.

'MOUNTING APPREHENSION' is written on the far wall. In blood. Fresh blood, still dripping. I admit it, I freeze up for several seconds, my mind reeling. That's- he- what's that on the floor, underneath? I make my way over, no longer trying to appear calm. If someone jumps out from behind the couch waving a machete, I'm screaming like a little girl and running away, no question about it.

...It's a blood bag, from the hospital. Left in plain sight as if to say 'don't worry bro, no murder involved.' But still. I mean, I know he pilfers the odd opiate to sell on the side, but stealing human blood? For a prank? That's just... too far, man.

I bend down to pick it up, then immediately curse myself. I don't want my prints on- The blood bag is full, the seal still intact. I glance up at the wall again. MOUNTING APPREHENSION.

---

I find Jim lying face down on our bed, fully clothed. I can't make out any injuries from where I'm standing, but the bed is positively soaked in blood. I, I don't think he's breathing? I know I should call the police, or at least run away, but I can't seem to move. I'm staring at the final message, bloody letters three feet high covering the entire wall. It reads 'NUMB TERROR'. I don't argue with it.

The door clicks shut behind me. I spin around to see a short figure dressed all in black, its face obscured by a grinning devil mask. Aiming a crossbow at me.

"I know what you did," it says. A female voice, young. I have time to read 'REGRET' written across her chest in white before she pulls the trigger.

===

Charms:
Taylor: All-Encompassing Sorcerer's Sight, ???
Tattletale: Know the Soul's Price
Bitch: Spirit-Tied Pet
Aegis: Ox-Body Technique
Browbeat: Shaping the Ideal Form
Dragon: Implicit Construction Methodology
Kid Win: Industry and Forge Wisdom
Lung: By Rage Recast
Vista: Mind-Hand Manipulation
Cricket: Mantis Form
Faultline: Charm of Lesser Unmaking
Labyrinth: Hell-Walker Technique
Othala: Verdant Emptiness Endowment
Rune: Sometimes Horses Fly Approach
Shadow Stalker: Bloodless Murk Evasion
Miss Militia: Nightmare Fugue Vigilance
 
…Someone needs to smack Taylor with some common sense.

I can get the logic of what she's saying, but it fails to take in to account that choices will be made on the individual level.

In a vacuum what she's saying could be construed to be correct. But this isn't a vacuum. This is a world where people are constantly mixing, and the E88s way of countering that mixing is through violence and pressure. It fails to take into account the systematic racism that's been a part of her world since the beginning. It fails to take into account that no ethnic community in this country is entirely self-sufficient.

Unless you want to tell me the E88 handles their own food, textiles, cleaning, and utilities. That every part of their empire runs off of solely White labor.
 
You've done a good job of conveying just how cracked Taylor is at this point.

The arguments she's making are basically irrelevant, that she feels the need to make them in this context and genuinely gets riled up at pushback... Her priorities are all over the place, probably a result of only really caring about getting new powers for so long and engaging with the rhetoric disinterestedly for appearances sake and the trauma.
 
I really really hope that she was just getting into the role of nazi psycho bitch. Reading about the rise of Nazi Eidolon is not gonna be comfortable…But then again, she did say she wanted to keep her Stranger persona away from the Empire, so maybe it was Ana act? She isn't exactly hating on Aisha, so who knows?
 
I really really hope that she was just getting into the role of nazi psycho bitch. Reading about the rise of Nazi Eidolon is not gonna be comfortable…But then again, she did say she wanted to keep her Stranger persona away from the Empire, so maybe it was Ana act? She isn't exactly hating on Aisha, so who knows?
The PRT probably have the house bugged and the PRT has more surveillance holes than Swiss cheese. I think this was a performance less for her dad, more for the Empire and PRT. She even refers to putting on a persona and chides herself for almost switching to the "friend" persona with her dad AKA the 'I'm going to cut you friend' persona.
 
The PRT probably have the house bugged and the PRT has more surveillance holes than Swiss cheese. I think this was a performance less for her dad, more for the Empire and PRT. She even refers to putting on a persona and chides herself for almost switching to the "friend" persona with her dad AKA the 'I'm going to cut you friend' persona.

If that were the case she wouldn't be continuing the argument in her head afterwards. That said I do think she was playing it up for the sake of letting her dad see her as "just a villain" since he can't be trusted with her real motivations, so she gave a (real) tertiary one instead.
 
Regardless of if Taylor was acting or not, how Danny responded was a choice. This is a man who's known that his daughter is with the Nazis, and what, hasn't thought he'd need to talk to her about that? Apparently he thought she was going to be brought in as a Ward, I'd think he'd expect to talk to her.

Yeah, there can be reasons why that wasn't priority one for the dude, but it's still up to the author to choose to portray that version of Danny, and not a Danny that pushes back against the rhetoric.
 
I really really hope that she was just getting into the role of nazi psycho bitch. Reading about the rise of Nazi Eidolon is not gonna be comfortable…But then again, she did say she wanted to keep her Stranger persona away from the Empire, so maybe it was Ana act? She isn't exactly hating on Aisha, so who knows?
I maintain that reading about the rise of Nazi Eidolon would be awesome, but that's neither here nor there.

If Taylor were truly all about the eighty-eight, she would have tried to red pill Danny, help him to understand that National Socialism is the only form of socialism that could ever do what it promises, or some such. Instead she chose overt antagonism. Definitely some deliberate bridge-burning.

When Danny gets word of that DNA evidence, he's going to shit bricks.
 
Yeah, there can be reasons why that wasn't priority one for the dude, but it's still up to the author to choose to portray that version of Danny, and not a Danny that pushes back against the rhetoric.
Danny did push back against the rhetoric. Not particularly effectively, mind you, but Taylor kind of bulldozed over his attempts.

It's actually really hard to persuade a Nazi with words. A lot of them think they have facts on their side, but the majority of those facts are just absolute b******* that's been around long enough to have several self-reinforcing loops. It's really hard to argue past that.
 
"A paradox, until you realize that natural resources aren't people, and don't deserve human rights."
In Taylor's eyes, are all of humanity just animals and slaves to her? I wonder if those mastered by her get some forms of rights or are they too like everyone else in that analogy.
 
And that is what a really crazy person sounds like. I'm of half a mind to say Taylor is doing this on purpose to distance herself from Danny but that would be wishful thinking. She really lost herself. Wonder what she is gonna do next.
 
There's only one black guy in the Dockworkers Union?
Wouldn't be a surprise, if only because there has been a powerful and entrenched Neo-Nazi parahuman gang in Brockton Bay for decades. Realistically, the percentage of black people living in Brockton Bay is probably considerably lower than the average for large urban cities in the US.

If not for the ABB, the same could probably be said for Asians as well.
 
In Taylor's eyes, are all of humanity just animals and slaves to her? I wonder if those mastered by her get some forms of rights or are they too like everyone else in that analogy.
Minions to the Exalted get "rights" in the sense that a minion has the right to last throughout its usefulness, and the right to whatever degree of mental wellness ensures maximum usefulness. Which is a hell of a lot more rights than any extra gets. They don't have the right to be rational or even human if it doesn't please an exalted (see: Inner Devils Unchained).
 
I think Danny doesn't care much about the whole Nazi thing. He only cares about his daughter's well being and happiness. After he finds out about the rape he might just snap and start supporting the E88. Well not really…but he would turn a blind eye to them as long as they left that one black dock worker alone.

(It would be interesting if Danny triggered and became an OP villain kinda like Marquis, but hey it's only a thought)
 
It's actually really hard to persuade a Nazi with words. A lot of them think they have facts on their side, but the majority of those facts are just absolute b******* that's been around long enough to have several self-reinforcing loops. It's really hard to argue past that.
One of the reasons is because Nazism just makes explicit the inherent contradictions in "race-blind" liberal meritocracy. The common believe among the American homeowning suburban middle class is that America is a meritocracy, and anyone can make it with enough hard work and gumption.
So then the question becomes... "well then why are black people so poor compared to white people?"
There are only two answers to that question: you either go racist and say it's bc they're genetically/racially/culturally/etc inferior, or go leftist with a systematic critique of capitalist systems.

It is logically impossible to simultaneously assert both that America is a fundamentally meritocratic country where anyone can make it, and that black people are fundamentally equal in intelligence/moral worth/etc to white people. That's why it's so easy for so many suburban moderates to turn to fascism, they're already halfway there.
 

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