DestineeFable

9 Red Dogs - is an incarnation of a Palladium system Ninjas and Superspies Mystic China character. According to the glossary of that book, 9 is a lucky number, red is a lucky color, and dogs are lucky animals. So, her name means lucky, lucky, lucky. Since she's a kat/SR scrapper, I thought it fit fairly well. Plus, I knew I wouldn't have to worry about anyone else having thought of it first. Lauren was raised by monks who have a monastery in a pocket dimension. They dedicate their time and pocket space to the preservation and safe-keeping of dangerous mystical artifacts. Lauren was a little too undisciplined to stay in the monastery full-time, so she's been sent out to "sow her wild oats" and mature. In the meantime, she hunts for dangerous articfacts to deliver into their keeping. Every time Azuria thinks she's getting some artifact retrieved, it's really a replica with enough of an aura to fool the people of Paragon's MAGI dept. The monks are quite good at what they do (they've been doing it for centuries after all).

Chaotique - kin/NRG defender sounded sort if chaotic to me what with the energy grabbing and the random knockback and all. I figured that just about everything Chaos woudl have been taken already so I added the ending "ique" to give her a feminine, saucy, French-sounding flair. Really she's a grad-student field-testing her techno-organic PhD project. Naturally, the testing has run a little (OK, a lot) longer than strictly necessary. But what's a girl to do?

Corporate Witch - She was a super worker in the Crey Industry's marketing division, but they decided they wanted more. They started doing a little tinkering with magic and radiation combined to see if they could create the uber-marketer. They got the Corporate Witch (power of the netherworld fused to the perfect corporate clone). Poor Cai is stuck in the world of the office and can't quite get away from that world. She sees everything in those terms.

The Bonewrack - No, it's not mispelled. The word wrack means a great amount of damage, implying possibly even more than a wreck. The Bonewrack means to make a wrack of the Skulls after what they did to him ruining his life and his family (hence the use of bone pointing to a special love of skulls in particular).

Corporate Witch
hatching
poodle
gregarious
daffodil

We sensed a while ago that we are no longer wandering aimlessly. There is a new scent on the air tonight. Something dark and unimaginably evil. We are drawn towards it to destroy it as that is our mission now.

As we draw nearer, we hear the sounds of combat. This is not the source of the evil, but it bars our way. We will destroy it as we have so many other obstacles in the past.

Another is there ahead of us. He is fighting more of the men who make us . . . hate, yes that is the word. We quickly build up and let loose a pin-point accurate snipe shot at one who is menacing the back of our apparent ally in this venture. It doesn't drop him, but it does draw his attention.

"Watch your back!" we shout as the man we hit runs towards us. "They're all around you."

A few more twists and turns later and we emerge onto a city street. We see passers by stopping to stare at a small group of men. Their leader stands on a crate and exhorts the passers by join them.

We are briefly flooded by powerful emotion at the sight of these men. We do not know why, but somewhere we remember . . . we do not know what. The emotion itself is unexpected. We have not felt its like before in our wanderings, nor have we seen men like these.

We stand in the shadows watching the men. We study them trying to determine just what it is that makes them different from the others we encounter. That they are criminals is obvious from the fear on the faces of some pedestrians, but we have seen many of these before to no effect.

With a shrug, we embrace our new emotion and step out from the shadows. Before they even know someone is targetting them, we let fly with our first attacks. That these men are somewhat better adapted then the first men to handle our assault is immediately apparent as our first volleys barely phase them.

In the end, we am reduced to running back to keep a distance between ourselves and the men. They fall one-by-one though. They are still no match for us, and we feel another brief flare of emotion as the last one crumples with a deep grunt.

((thought I'd establish a connection to the Column))

((maybe if I get in on this open rp early, it'll be easier to get integrated))

Ever since being freed from the ice in the dark places beneath the city, we have been helped. We show our gratitude by fighting those who would seek to destroy this city. We are effective enough at this task.

Something is missing from our lives, however. Those who helped us seemed to think we should have a name and a life just like they did, but we recall nothing before the ice. We do not know who we are and yet we look like they do. For a long time, they called us Jane Doe, but we are the Retro-Chill. That, at least, is something we remember.

Lately, we have had uneasy mental pictures. "Dreams" the humans who help us call them. In these dreams, we see flashes of a man and a child, but we don't know what it means. Needless to say, we have slept much less and spent more time roaming aimlessly through the streets of the city.

This night is particularly fine by human standards although we are aware it is too blazingly hot for us. Were it not for our insulating suit, we would encase ourselves in ice as a defense and hibernate once more. We have been wandering the empty streets and alleys. We destroy those foes we meet, but otherwise we are empty of true purpose much like our lives have been.

I smell the rank odor of human sweat and body heat up ahead. A trembling voice pleads for mercy. An old woman cowers before a group of young men. They stink of more than their own thermal emissions; they smell of an ancient evil that permeates body and soul, warp and weft. They will pose no threat to us.

We channel our powers freezing two in place and blasting them relentlessly with our energy bolts. The third leaps away trying to run. A concentrated, well-aimed shot knocks him over and puts him down. A blade of ice forms in my hand and a single swipe finishes the last man.

His eyes are a limpid brown. We are drawn to those eyes. That gives us pause and makes us wonder. Did we have an existence before we were the Retro-Chill?

With a quick brush to the cheek of the young man, we silently wander back into the night. The old woman tries to thank us, but she need not do so. We are fulfilling our obligation to those who helped. We are trying to ponder our own mystery.

Perhaps he is like a hedgehog or porcupine and the spines lie flat until he is agitated and they then pop up. That could be very embarrassing if they tend to extend with emotional states or triggers.

Batman is more of a vigilante than just a guy. Maybe the original definition should be are you a vigilante or a superhero? Vigilantes are people taking the law into their own hands. In Batman's case, he is ordinary and taking the law into his own hands. Superheroes have a little more official backing when they take the law into their own hands look at the Fantastic Four or the Avengers.

My main character on Pinnacle is a transplant of a table top character I played for a while. Her name is 9 Red Dogs. She would fit under vigilante although actually according to her background, she is doing a job for others. It's just coincidence that a lot of good gets done along the way. And her normality is reflected in her katana and reflexes (both considered to suck by the so-called serious players, but I like them).

The Retro-Chill is harder. She's got amnesia thanks to something that went horribly wrong. I won't say any more until I've finished posting her origin story.

This is one of my first under-takings in an origin story. This is just one of several parts. Comments are encouraged and welcome because I know this is far from perfect. I hope a few of you at least enjoy, and I will endevour to finish the ending (major re-write) and get it all up before too much longer.

The Retro-Chill

"Dr. Armstrong, I have the results from that last batch of tests," the lab
tech said handing a clipboard to the tall woman in scrubs. "It looks like at least some of the modifications you made are working."
Jada Armstrong studied the information on the clipboard intently. "It
looks like strain 7C produced something a little out of the ordinary," she observed. "Let's go take a look at the plates."
Together they strode down the polished, sterile corridors of Belton Corp's R and D department. Jada had only been on the project for six months herself having been picked up by Belton's government liaison shortly after her graduation. Belton's project was supposed to be part of a massive effort by the Dept. of Agriculture to develop plants and animals that could be farmed in the tundra regions of Alaska. They'd made great strides since she had joined the effort.
"Yes, strain 7C," the lab tech said. "We're not even sure how viable it is. The incubator it's in is malfunctioning; it didn't maintain the proper growth temperatures."
Dr. Armstrong frowned, "Well, strain 7C did something because the results
indicate a heightened degree of bio-activity."
Those results were bothering her more than she cared to admit even to herself. The retro-viral agents were all designed to thrive in their target host environment. In this case, the thermal range of the average rat, the usual initial live-trial subjects. If 7C were functional at lower temperatures, the whole strain might have to be scrapped in favor one of the less promising ones.
The plates containing the test bacteria were an interesting sight. Some of them evinced no visual signs of growth meaning the retrovirus used had either killed the cells or severely retarded their growth. Others showed colonies of apparently perfectly normal bacteria. They'd have to be tested to see if they'd even been altered by the retro-viral agents introduced to them, and then, if they'd been altered, further tests would be needed to reveal any genetic effects. The last set of plates was different. Despite being kept in a warm environment, the temperature around them was cooler than it should be.
"We moved those plates to a perfectly working incubator early this morning, Dr. Armstrong," the technician was saying apologetically as she moved to take one of the plates out for inspection. As she touched the first plate, she hissed in pain and drew her hand back rapidly.
"It's cold!" she exclaimed shaking her hand. "I'd use heavy gloves, Dr. Armstrong."
Jada Armstrong pulled on a pair of insulated gloves and picked up one of the plates. The agar media was covered with a rime of frost as was the plate. Most incredibly, there was visual evidence of bacterial growth! She drew in her breath excitedly. This might be the breakthrough they had been seeking. Those bacteria had to be cold tolerant to be surviving on that plate through the conditions they'd been exposed to. If they were still viable, they might even be cold-generating.
"Sarah," she said the lab tech, "I need a slide made of this right away, and go ahead and culture the bacteria from this plate into new ones. We'll see if they grow overnight with the same results."
Jada went to her computer and opened up her files on the various strains of retro-virus they had created for testing. Quickly she noted the combination of virus and genes that had led to strain 7C. She added some quick notes to her log reminding herself that nothing had been confirmed as of yet.
Under the microscope, the slides showed living bacteria. It was hard to tell for sure though because the mounts kept freezing making it hard to observe any direct life processes. Well, the cultures would give them a better idea of whether or not the bacteria were viable. If they reproduced themselves, not only was the genetic effect of the retrovirus passed down from generation to generation, but the bacteria were extremely cold-tolerant as well.
As the weeks and months passed, successive tests and generations of the strain 7C cultures proved that the cells caused a sharp drop in temperature in their immediate surroundings. Another interesting finding occurred when someone happened to notice the initial reaction the cells had when introduced into a new, warm agar plate. The technician described a pulsing effect followed by a rime of frost that quickly deepened into a hardened freeze.
At first, he wasn't believed, but in time others noted the same effect, and finally Jada observed it herself. She wrote this dutifully into her report, and continued to work with strain 7C and the cultures it produced. She was convinced that she could somehow remove the heat-removing effects and leave the cold-tolerance behind. Repeated attempts were met with repeated failures, and she was beginning to toy with the idea of going back to the beginning of her strain 7C work to start all over again. This also was dutifully noted in her reports.
It wasn't long after that that Belton's facility was toured by the government head of the project, Dr. Scanlon. Everyone rushed into action preparing for the inspection with strain 7C and its children the star exhibit on display. Jada was more determined to try to show off another strain she had been working with on the side that also showed some promising effects, but she was overruled.
On the day of the inspection, Dr. Scanlon greeted her first, "Dr. Armstrong, it's a pleasure to meet one of America's most promising young minds."
"The pleasure is all mine Dr. Scanlon," she replied nervously brushing some
close-cropped brown hair out of her eyes.
"I hear you've got a promising candidate for our project growing in your
labs. Why don't you tell me about while your technicians prepare some slides for me to look at."
"Well, Dr., I'm afraid strain 7C has produced some stubborn bugs. I can reproduce my results without problem, but all my attempts to keep the cold-tolerance and shed to cold producing elements of the retrovirus have met with failure. I'm afraid I'm beginning to think that strain 7C might be a failure after all, sir."
"Why would you think that, doctor?" he asked peering at the slides her
technicians had prepared. They were already covered with a coating of frost.
"Well, the cell cultures by themselves are difficult to handle. They get cold enough that they can burn. I can't imagine what the effect would be in a living organism," she replied.
"Maybe it's getting to be time we found out," He said. "In fact, I'm ordering you to proceed with testing strain 7C in rats."
"Sir, it could kill them," she said.
"That's why we test it in them isn't it? I've read your reports. You've tested strain 7C in variety of cells from a variety of tissue types. There's no reason to believe it won't be able to permeate the entire body of a living organism." When it looked like Jada was going to begin protesting, he continued on another subject. "Now, have you even thought of testing this in plant cells?"
As Dr. Scanlon continued to outline his orders for the expansion of what he was now calling Project 7C, Jada could only follow along listening and taking notes on where her research was to go in the following weeks.

* * *

"Hey blue eyes! Watcha got cookin'?"
Jada flipped her growing hair out of her way and turned away from her computer screen to face her project partner and boyfriend, Dr. Richard Garner. He'd been transferred about six months ago to her section of the project by Dr. Scanlon to help in running the live trials of 7C. While they weren't having much luck in the live trials so far, their relationship had quickly moved beyond professional. Jada's mother scolded her about it constantly, but she was so busy with her work that she just didn't have time to meet men any other way.
"It's not good, Rick," she replied. "We still kill every rat we inject, and I'm no closer to finding out why."
"Well, let's take a step back and look at the problem from the beginning again," he replied moving to rub her shoulders and neck. "Something tells me we've missed something fairly elementary in all this mess somewhere."
"You may be right, but I'm shot at the moment."
"Let's get some take-out and we'll discuss it at my place over dinner. How's that sound?"
"That sounds like the best offer I've heard all day," she replied leaning her head briefly back against his stomach before getting up to get her coat.
Rick's apartment was becoming a sort of second home to Jada these days. More and more she wondered if she should just give in to his urgings and move in, but her mother was the old-fashioned sort who would never approve of such a thing. She'd be angry enough if she found out just how many times Jada never made it home as it was.
When she'd first met Rick, she'd thought him insufferably arrogant. He had everything from brains to his dark haired, dark eyed good looks, and he knew it. For the first month, they'd fought each other more than they'd worked together. Each had been confident that his or her own position was the only right one, but they'd quickly learned to respect each other. That respect had deepened into something Jada was afraid might be very close to love by now.
"OK," Rick began between bites of chow mein, "we know that strain 7C penetrates cells because your old cultures are still going. And when we introduce it into an unaltered culture, it takes over quickly."
"Right, and we've seen evidence that it begins to do the same in the rats post introduction," she replied. "What confuses me is why we continue to fail. I thought for sure we'd solved something when we began trying to saturate the bodies with retro-virus, but they still died."
"Maybe we're still missing something in the timing," Rick said thoughtfully around another mouthful of noodles. "You said the original cells when introduced into a plate with normal cells at normal temperatures produced an almost energetic chill effect killing off all other cells and chilling the environment to a suitable temperature."
"Yes, the best hypothesis we currently have is that the energy dampening effect that produces the chill is like a self-defense mechanism for the cells. They seem to use it almost like a weapon anytime they encounter too much warmth, and that's why we have to handle plates with heavy gloves; the chill they produce will give you frost bite if you hold onto it long enough."
"So, we tried saturating the body with the retro-virus to even out infection rates as much as possible," he continued.
"That still hasn't solved our problem. Not a single rat in any of the trials has survived infection. We've been over this before," Jada said thowing up her hands in frustration.
"What if . . . different tissue types become infected at different rates? It would only take a slight difference in infection rate to insure that entire systems would be frozen causing death. Maybe, we need to go back to the plate stage and observe the infection rate of tissue types more closely. Timing could be everything!" Rick's eyes blazed with excitement.
Jada smiled radiantly back at him. She loved seeing that particular look on his face. It quickly made her think of other things, and judging by the sudden intensity in his eyes, he was thinking the same thing. No other work got done that night.
The next day, they went back to the culture stage with 7C. They cultured just about every type of body tissue they could think of and timed how long it took for the retrovirus to penetrate the cells and alter their nature. It turned out that nearly every different type of tissue had its own saturation and infection rate. The sheer amount of time variance was staggering, and both Rick and Jada knew that any difference in timing would spell death for one vital group of cells in a living body. Once again, they were left scratching their heads waiting a new break to come through.
Several months later, Jada was reading an article on gene therapy when the necessary piece fell into place. The article was about a doctor working on techniques in retroviral therapy. He was trying to find a way to avoid rejection by the body during the retroviral changes themselves. His answer had been to infect all the cells of the organ in question with his retrovirus which remained dormant until he signaled them to activate using a chemical signal like a hormone.
Jada dropped the paper out of her hand and went running down the hallway to the lab. "I've got it!" she cried bursting in. "I think I know how we can get 7C to work in a living subject."
Rick jumped around hiding something behind him with an almost guilty look on his face. "What's that?"
"Make 7C activate on a trigger of some sort. Hormone would be too slow, but if we could find a way to activate it with a small electric current it might be quick enough. That way, we could let the virus saturate the body, penetrate every cell . . ."
"Honey, I love it when you're like this, but I wish you'd waited to make your break until tomorrow," he sighed moving aside with a grin. Behind him, tied to her microscope neck was a ring. "Jada Armstrong, will you marry me?"
For the first time in her life, Jada knew what it was to be truly struck speechless. He'd given her no sign of his intentions. The surprise was absolute. For what seemed an eternity, she struggled to process his words while her mouth gaped like a beached fish. In the end, words failed her, and she merely went into his arms.
Now, Jada's life was divided between two obsessions: her work at the lab with 7C, now being called the retro-chill by the technicians, and planning her wedding. In the end, they had to strip down 7C's make-up again to find room for a few new genes that would keep it dormant until triggered. Then they had to find genes that would respond to the chosen trigger: a small electrical current passed through the body. Meanwhile, there were decisions to be made on dresses and invitations and colors.
Progress on Project 7C had slowed to a crawl, and Dr. Scanlon was threatening a visit when Jada and Rick were married on a perfect late autumn day. The happy couple danced and drank and toasted friends and family. Jada's younger sister joked that when they won their Nobel prize it would be Garner and Garner now instead of Armstrong and Garner.

Excuses me Sir/Madam. (Pause) Hi, I’m Steven Harris reporting for Behind the Mask. May I ask you a few questions for the program?

An attractive young women wearing a professional looking suit stops and blinks quizzically before staring at her watch and replying, "Uh, yeah, but it's got to be quick."

Harris: What is your view for the cities heroes?

Young Woman: Them? Umm, well, I guess they're doing something. I'm not sure what all the time. They kind of creep me out if you want the truth. Some of them can just stand there for hours doing nothing. Don't they have jobs or something?

Harris: Have you had any encounters with heroes?

Young Woman: Oh, yeah, there was this one guy. He kept like asking me questions. I kept trying to brush him off and get inside, but he kept bugging me. You know? I was just about ready to use the pepper spray on him. He should get a date.

Harris: Who do you think is to blame for the rise in cities crime rate?

Young Woman: I'm not sure; I guess I could say urban decay. I mean. Have you been to King's Row or Perez Park lately? The city government should enact some urban renewal programs instead of paying for all this hero housing and stuff. Maybe if we had a nice city to live in and our kids had something to do with themselves, we wouldn't need all these heroes.

Harris: What is your view of various anti heroes and anti mutant groups that believe heroes course more problems then they solve?

Young Woman: I think it's a free country and everyone has a right to their opinions. I haven't really formed any opinion on it myself.

Harris: What do you think goes through a super heroes mind when they are in a dangerous situation?

Young Woman: I don't really know, but I sure don't think they spend time noticing what they're thinking at that moment either. Know what I mean? I mean if they over-analyzed it they'd all be dead wouldn't they?

Harris: What do you think you would do if you had super powers yourself?

Young Woman *checks her watch*: Right now I'd use 'em to get this over with so I'm not late for my 1 o'clock appointment. So, if you'll excuse me?

Thank you for your time (said to a rapidly retreating backside)

[ QUOTE ]
Harris: First of all I would like to thank you for taking the time to appear on the program.


[/ QUOTE ]

Koyote: Yeah, well, it's not every day I have the time to waste either.

[ QUOTE ]
Harris: Could you tell the viewers at home a little bit about how and why you became a hero.


[/ QUOTE ]

Koyote: A hero? Is that what they call my line of work nowadays? *laughs brusquely* I ran away from home and learned how to handle myself in a fight. I come to visit my baby sister, and find out my nephew's into gang banging. I ain't gonna have my blood messing with the infernal.

[ QUOTE ]
Harris: What would you say is the greatest reward for being a hero?


[/ QUOTE ]

Koyote: Sure ain't the free tequila. I can tell you that. I don't know what the slop is that you people have in your liquor stores, but it's pretty bad *@#&.

[ QUOTE ]
Harris: Have you ever found there is any drawback to being a hero?


[/ QUOTE ]

Koyote: Lack of income. You get all sorts of thanks, but no one ever gives you any money. Sure they say they offer free housing and stuff, but that's crap too.

[ QUOTE ]
What is going through your mind when you are in a dangerous situation that could lead to civilian casualties? That must be a scary situation.


[/ QUOTE ]

Koyote: I don't have time to be scared. I'm usually concentrating on putting my next bullet right where it needs to be to end the fight. If you do it right, it only ever takes one bullet.

[ QUOTE ]
Harris: How do you feel about people that use their powers for crime like the outcast or the super villains we starting to see around the city?


[/ QUOTE ]

Koyote: Dios! I look at them and say, "that could've been me." You know? Now, I wonder if any one of them is one of my nephews. Sure makes it hard to take care of business.

[ QUOTE ]
What do you think is going through these criminals minds when they commit these acts?


[/ QUOTE ]

Koyote: Probably the same thing that goes through anyone's mind who's in a position to abuse power. I'm sure you're tempted to abuse yours all the time since the media shapes public perception. Me? I won't lie and say I've never been tempted, but what would I be proving?

[ QUOTE ]
How do you feel about the various anti hero and anti mutant groups that believe heroes course more problems then they solve? Given the amount of work heroes do for the city this must be quite upsetting.


[/ QUOTE ]

Koyote: *shrugs* They'd be the same ones to whine if they didn't have any heroes to help them. Some people will just never be even the tiniest bit happy about anything. Like my Tio Tito, he was the world's worst pessimest.

[ QUOTE ]
and finally, have you ever worked along side the Statesman? What is he like?


[/ QUOTE ]

Koyote: The Statesman? You're joking right? He's way up there in the scheme of things. I'm just a poor little barrio girl packing heat.

[ QUOTE ]
I would like to thank you for coming on the show and on behalf of the citizens of Paragon city thank you for keeping the streets safe


[/ QUOTE ]

Waves and walks out.