TwiLyghtSansSparkles

She designed it to synch up with the nearest digital timepiece automatically. Not knowing where said timepiece was, she didn't want to waste time looking for it as she randomly checked every wrist in the museum. Which she could very well have done. The allies were all of the Epics Aldo brought.

We've already gotten the dialogue for a Slaughterhouse/Nighthound/Koschei/Crow tea party written. Agreed.

Wraith turned to smoke. Part of Doctor Funtimes—the part that loved campfires—wanted to drop the teapot and squeal in delight. The other part—the part that hated the way smoke would sting her eyes and make her cough—wanted to see if the scalding water could still touch him. At least one thing was settled: She knew how he had reached the MoNA. And unless he could only turn to smoke at a certain time each day, he would be able to float up to the MoNA whenever he liked. That, of course, opened the door to a whole new problem: If this happened to be smoky-turny-time, Wraith must have been waiting since the same time the previous day, which meant he knew everything that had happened, and he knew about Nathan, and... "Well... um, to answer your first question, no Lightward did not help me get up here. I got here all by my self." He glanced nervously at the teapot. "You don't know me because I keep my head down, but I've decided that now might be a good time to join up with an alliance. So could I, or do I have to do something first?" Heat from the teapot was beginning to burn her hands, but she didn't dare let go. "Do that smoky-turny-thing again." He did. She set the teapot back on the billy and wiped her hands. There was nothing special about this time after all. Of course, that didn't mean he hadn't heard everything she didn't want him to hear, and unless he was incapable of lying, there was no way for her to know what he knew. She couldn't peek inside his brain, anyway—well, Nighthound would probably like to, but that would be creepy and gross and wouldn't tell her anything except what the inside of his brain looked like. Which was something she didn't want to know. Then again, she knew one thing: He wanted to join an alliance. Their alliance. And she was here, and Lightwards wasn't, which meant she was in charge. Lightwards had filled the MoNA with his allies, so it was only fair she had one of her own, two counting Saccharine. Doctor Funtimes smiled. She had already scared him, so now was the time to un-scare him. "Do you like cookies?" "Lessen up on the new Epic. Crippling him with fear this early would make him useless to everyone." Quota grinned. So Mundivore wasn't as immune as he thought. Oh, he might act immune, but Quota knew his bravado for the mask it was. He might push and shove and act as tough as CorpseMaker, but deep down he was a crying little baby. "Maybe he's got to learn. If he's crippled that easy, he's just cannon fodder. Know what I mean?" "Quota, report to Toymaker as well. She'll outfit you. The res of you know what you're supposed to be doing right now. I'll be back later." The perfect excuse to have the last word. Nudging Mundivore in the ribs to drive his last insult home, Quota turned away with a grin. "Catch ya later!" Remington had two stories floating around his head, and both filled him with misgivings. First, Aldo's Tennessee Sibyl tale. The most powerful precog on the planet had predicted Oregon's destruction. Miles and miles of devastated landscape. No houses. No trees. No people. His stomach turned just thinking about his favorite forests turned to rubble. More alarming, though, was the look of interest—no, delight—on that magician's face as he shared it. No concern for the people, the animals, nothing but sick joy at the prospect of having a front-row seat to an entire state's demise. Traveler had been wise to leave most of his own story untold. Regular folk didn't hear as much about Epics in other cities as local Epics did. There was a hierarchy, and hunters from Oregon were near the bottom. Still, a few rumors managed to float down, and Fortuity was one of those rumors. A powerful precog from Newcago, who wore the color of his crimes quite literally on his sleeves, was the reason for Traveler's arrival in Portland. Remington didn't know all the details, nor did he want to, but the story raised a few questions. Why was Traveler in Fortutiy's penthouse at all? Why did Doctor Funtimes lock him in the bathroom? Why was Fortuity so upset about the escape of one lowly server? The answer was simple: Traveler wasn't supposed to leave that penthouse alive. And Aldo laughed. Cheered. Said 'Bravo' and asked for more. Remington was just pondering whether to offer his assistance to an elderly Epic whose first instinct seemed to be murdering Nighthound when Funtimes skipped through the jungle, trailed by smoke with something small and green on her finger. As she neared, Remington saw it was a grasshopper, and the smoke solidified into a young man with a cookie in his hand. "Lean down," she said with a giggle, and Remington did. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Saccharine's animal friends hear stuff. Hari—" she lifted the grasshopper—"heard something from a fly, who was over downtown. Can you drive?" "Sure." She pulled back to grin at him, then whispered: "Wanna see something that'll make Lightwards' head explode?"

What would happen to someone--let's call that someone Nighthound--if this someone named Nighthound happened to be in a bus that used to be a pebble when it reverted?

Inaccurate maps for Streetwise?

Remington's will grow steadily more Emotionally Scarring as he gets closer to meeting Quota. Speaking of, would it be okay if sometime in the near future I sent you a flashback and asked you to fill in Vondra's dialogue? I'm not sure when it'll be... Quota got me thinking, though: What would Backtrack see if he met Quota?

Sweet. I can't wait to see her flashbacks. Remington's next flashback will have to wait until I'm done writing it.

The time skip can wait; there's no rush at all.

Just to the Empire/Thoughttown meeting.

Have fun! Are we still doing the time skip in the Portland thread? If so, it wouldn't be difficult for me to set that up in my next post. Does anyone else have any business to finalize before the skip?

So small objects, mostly?

As Reader drowned in his own wine.

Yes, but CM has Quota...so it's kind of a wash?

It makes perfect rational sense in the Empire. Velociraptor sword fights happen every other Wednesday and are great fun for all involved.

One twin eyed her with something between curiosity and haughty suspicion. Autumn made a mental note, intending to jot it down later. The initial approach was the most important for gaining an idea of how dangerous an Epic might be. No sooner had she introduced herself than the second twin burst out: "He was a slontze is what happened. He shot our friend then threatened to kill us when we stood up to him. Sparks, how do you work around someone like that? And now we have to speak to another sparking person in this crazy town and this is all after we were nearly abducted by a guy with cool sunglasses, got taken up to a flying museum, met the worlds creepiest guy then fell for a few thousand feet without any parachutes." Autumn felt her eyebrows creeping toward her hairline—not from the events the Epic described, but from the glare she received as she did. It was the sort of glare only a sister could give, and the sort only a sister would heed. Did she promise not to say a word? Or is there another reason? Whatever the case, neither twin seemed interested in using her powers. Autumn felt a chill slip beneath her jacket. These twins should have tried to send her flying against a wall or knocked the guards to the floor by now. That could mean only one thing: They were saving an attack for later. Then again, the speaking twin's arms twitched as she attempted to yank them free. Couldn't she simply give herself a little more momentum and free herself that way? Unless she's building it….but why the glare? If they're planning an attack, shouldn't they both be smiling? "So that, in brief is our story. So if you're going to kill us get in over with so we can haunt that Slontze in there already." Autumn cracked a smile. "If you made remarks like that, I think I know why Reader lost his temper. Not that I'm excusing him," she added with a quick glance at his door. "Still, he's under orders not to call the guards unless someone uses their powers. Could you tell me what happened in his office?" Bill's hand twitched on his rifle, an action not unnoticed by the glaring twin. Autumn gave a small laugh. "If you tell me the truth, they'll have no reason to shoot you."

Funtimes' method: "Tell me who you are and why I don't know you or you'll learn why nobody wants to get eaten by a teapot!" Lightwards' method: "Hm, you have a pulse, a cape, and a nice Snidely Whiplash mustache. You're hired!" Like a swarm of bright-eyed alligators converging on an army of toy soldiers across the freeway?

This has to happen. Now.

Yeah, he'd live just long enough to ask if Funtimes had outgrown her tar phase.

If you really want to have Lightwards echo Koschei, you could have him recruit Reader.

Nighthound + absolutely anyone = NO NO NO NO NO NO NO But yeah, that's how those relationships would end work out.

Thanks! But….but it has such an awesome ship name! And I can't be the only one who can totally picture him in her office, taking a swig of whiskey while she says, "It's all right, I understand. Reader makes me want to get drunk, too."

Autumn's first post is up. Note: She knows it's Newcago now, but insists on calling it by its old name as a sort of mental and verbal middle finger to Steelheart.

Autumn Glass, who was not an Epic, had a nice office. She consoled herself with that fact as she tossed a bouncy ball against the brick. Reader might be a high-and-mighty slontze who threw his weight around like he was some reincarnation of Koschei the Deathless, but her office was every bit as nice as his. Nicer, as many a visitor had claimed, although that might be due more to its inhabitant and less to its layout. With a sigh, Autumn caught the ball and set it back on her desk. Great. Once Reader saw her latest line of thought, he would have one more thing to rub in her face. Well, well, Miss Glass, been thinking about your office, have we? Thinking about how you brighten up that room just by your presence? Her teeth clenched just thinking about his smug little face, stupid lips stretched into a smirk as he tried to blackmail her out of her favorite chair. ​Would you like me to call your parents? Tell them how happy you are in New Eden? Perhaps your mother and I could have a chat about my stupid lips. It's not New Eden, she told her mind's-eye Reader double. ​It hasn't been New Eden in two years, and no, I'm not giving you this chair. It's my chair, and you don't even like orange. Now he'd have one more mind's-eye conversation to throw at her. There was no point in hoping he wouldn't know. He knew. He always knew. He knew her secrets the way she knew he didn't want her chair for the sake of having a chair, but for the sake of taking something that belonged to her. Typical of an Epic. He's human, God loves him. Autumn repeated her mantra, one of the few Reader hadn't tossed back at her. Well, aside from the "human" part, but that was only to correct her with a haughty "I'm not human, Glass, I'm an Epic, and you know it." He's human, God loves him. He's human, God loves him. He's human, God loves him. "Glass, we need you out in the hall. Reader's sent two more Epics to the firing squad." Autumn's head nearly hit her desk. She didn't dare put her hand on her radio for fear of what she wanted to say: Seriously, Bill? That's the fourth time this month! I don't mind being the good cop, but when the bad cop's going to waltz on in and demand to know why I defied his orders for the fifth time, you get to explain to him that it's my job and if he'd rather see executions, he can get his backside over to Chicago and see how Steelheart likes having his real name exposed. "Glass?" Stifling a sigh, Autumn lifted her radio. "On my way." She put on her olive-drab jacket, checked to ensure her chaplain's insignia was visible, and grabbed her clipboard and a small recording chip. "Two, you said?" "Correct. Names are Impact and MV." Impact and MV. Momentum-based powers, then? Not that it mattered terribly much, in her line of work. She hadn't been attacked in nearly a year. Insulted, yes, but most Epics stopped with the verbal jabs when they realized she had final say over whether Reader's orders were carried out. They might look down their noses at her, but precious few Epics were dumb enough to verbally abuse the woman whose word could keep them from paying a visit to the firing squad. The walk wasn't nearly long enough to steel herself; after a few steps and a turn, she saw two blonde-haired teens, leveling twin glares as soldiers pinned their arms back. Autumn had just enough time to send her usual plea to the Almighty: Dear God, help me make the right decision. Help me to remember you love these girls, regardless of what they might have done. As she passed Reader's office, she added: And please, please help me not to bash Reader's head with his own paperweight. Amen. She put on her usual smile as she approached, and waved at the twins. She never shook hands; it was simply wiser to avoid skin contact when there were energy-sapping and skin-stealing Epics about. "Hi there. Autumn Glass, not an Epic." She gave them the same greeting she gave everyone else, making her voice as gentle and sympathetic as she could. "I was told Reader recommended the firing squad, but I'd like to hear your side of the story. Could you tell me what happened in there?"

*is starting to think Funtimes/Ballooner would be an awesome ship* *but would rather see Ballooner/Lightwards*

* is eating a salad and browsing on her phone while wondering if she should give the dog a bite*