Rosies RP Prompts

This is a weekly article, delivered to you every Wednesday. These articles are intended to be a fun exercise as well as a good resource for role-players to explore Character Development so please feel free to post your own characters reaction to the weekly prompt. So be sure to stay tuned to this blog for future installments!

What is your Characters Greatest Fear, and what would they do if they came face to face with it?

Sacred Heart Parochial School
Kings Row 1989

“Bang! Pow, THUNK!” Back alley Brawlers fist flew through the air, muscles rippling under the unforgiving glare of the afternoon sun while bad guys where thrown bodily sporting bloody noses and black eyes. However from the street a large number of thugs boxed in the burley stalwart hero and pointed guns at his massive chest, he was surrounded and out numbered.

No hope seemed in sight for our Hero until….

“Hey you Buttheads leave him alone!” a young voice cried from the roof top, where she stood, “Oh No! Not the Back Alley Kid!” one of the bloodied miscreants whimpered and shoving past his buddies took off in a cloud of dust and leaving a yellow puddle in his wake.

“Back Alley Beat down Begin!” She cries before swinging from off her perch atop the roof and disarming each of her foes with swooping strategic kicks to their gun toting hands, and dropping with a triple back flip beside her Hero and Partner Back Alley Brawler.

The Big man grinned down at the young girl and gave her a big metallic thumbs up, before they commenced to beat the thugs and punks to a pulp in a rain of fists and bloody surrender.

“Miss Jordan if you would be so kind, name the four principal rivers in Russia”

POP! The bubble gum Serena had been chewing burst noisily covering her chin and nose as she looked up into the stern old face of Sister Mary Alice who hovered over her like a Vulture with those black beady eyes fixed on Serena’s face and hitting the palm of her bony hand with her ruler.

The Sister held out her hand and Serena was forced to relinquish her comic book as well as her bubble gum. Serena innocently blinked up at the old lady behind large wire rimmed glasses hoping that if she started speaking while she picked pink bubble gum smears from off her nose that she wouldn’t have to go to the Headmistress office that day for dreaming in class again.

“Of its 100,000 rivers, Russia contains some of the world's longest. Of these five, the Volga is the most famous, not only because it is the longest river in Europe the “Mother Volga” as its called flows southward into the world's largest inland body of water the Caspian Sea. The other four are Ob-Irtysh, Amur, Lena, and Yenisey. All but the Amur flow northward into the Arctic Ocean.”

“But that’s five, I thought Volga would be to obvious, but should be mentioned anyway due to its importance during the Battle of Stalingrad, Kazan Operation and the martyrdom of 1836 when the little Jewish Children where Martyred rather than commit the Kiddush Hashem of Conversion.”

“Very good Miss Jordan” Sister Mary Alice simpered and stalked off in a clack of rosary beads and sensible shoes. Tommy Malrooney turned around in his seat which was diagonal from Serena’s and stuck his tongue out at her while his shadow Danny Gilbert-Mason who sat behind him made kissy faces at her.

They thought she was a suck up and a know it all, and nothing made you an outcast quicker than either of those qualities. Serena narrowed her eyes and made a threatening fist at the two bullies letting them know in no uncertain terms that she was neither and wouldn’t take their stupidity laying down. Tommy paled under his freckles and turned around again and Gil looked like he swallowed a bug. Both trouble makers had tasted her fist before and where not ready for a second helping of a knuckle sandwich.

Serena was generally well liked by the kids in school but it took a lot of laying low and more than a few fist fights in order to get that way. She was in little league and pee-wee football, she was a very good student which endeared her to her teachers and an observant catholic which put her in good standing with the penguins, but she was a four eyes and if she didn’t take care to hide her real grades from her friends at school she had to lie and tell them she “just got lucky I guess”.

Sister Mary Alice made her way to the front of the classroom and continued her geography lesson rolling down the large map of Eastern Europe.

“Knock, Knock, Knock.” The door to the school room was opened and in walked Father Kerry whom escorted a very small, pale but very pretty blond little girl in front of him whom hugged her books to her chest and wore a bright pink backpack over her narrow shivering shoulders.

“I have a new student for you Sister, Class this is Lizzy White, Lizzy this is your new Teacher Sister Mary Alice and your new classmates, I’m sure everyone will get along just fine.” Father Kerry said smiling; his bald spot on his head shining under the florescent lights making the ring of dishwater brown gray hair which ran around his head look even more minuscule under its harsh glare.

The little girl looked around the classroom and being so slight and so sickly looking it seemed to Serena that someone could knock her over with a feather, and that a kid as pretty and well dressed as she was wouldn’t last to long in the Row if they didn’t have someone to stand up for them.

The Row didn’t appreciate weaklings, the Row was built with rough hands and strong backs, the Slavick, Irish and Italian stock had produced a good labor stock, and as Sacred Heart was the primary parochial school for all the good catholic families and pretty much everyone else in the neighborhood their children grew up with strong features, solid builds, and quick tempers. They wore hand-me-down clothes, off market shoes and canvas bags with someone else’s name written on the backs.

This Girl wore nice clothes and spoke softly, she had a hot pink pencil box and new shoes with glitter in the laces. She even had one of those fancy Lisa designed trapper keepers! Serena doubted if the girl even went outside as white and pale as she was let alone if she knew how to throw a punch to protect herself. As Serena’s dark blue eyes slipped away from the girl who took an empty seat in the front of the room they settled on her fellow classmates.

Despite her best efforts to befriend her classmates, there where some whom still wouldn’t speak to Serena herself. Serena’s father was African American and while he was a War Hero from the Vietnam War not everyone in the Row liked Sam D probably for no other reason other than his skin. Paragon City was not New York and the Row was not the Bronx, Sam D and his daughter stuck out.

While Sam wasn’t Serena’s biological father, another reason why the Single Father was such an oddity, but also Serena was dark complected herself, darker even than the Italian olive skin which was so prevalent in the neighborhood, but her hair was coal black and her eyes a dark sapphire blue and it had marked her out and set her apart from the other kids as sure as being openly smart would have done.

Serena watched the envy mingled with indignant pride that washed over some of the young faces, like shadows passing over the sun clouding their eyes with hate and mingling with scorn in their furrowed brow. This girl would not have an easy time of it if someone didn’t watch out for her and Seri felt a stir of fear for the smaller girl and wanted to protect her. That was what Heroes did after all; protect those who can’t protect themselves.

“But what can I possibly do?” Serena thought to herself, “I can’t beat everyone up who looks sideways at the girl can I? Its best to sit back and wait and see how she does for herself”, Serena concluded, getting up at the ring of the bell for lunch they all began to file out into the hall.

“Miss Jordan, where do you think your going?” Sister Mary Alice asked her as she was about to leave the room.

“To Lunch Sister, can’t I go?” Seri asked.

“You know chewing gum and comic books are forbidden in my class, you will take your lunch here and you will stay after school this afternoon and clean the chalkboard and the erasers.”

“Yes Sister.” Serena said sulkily sucking in her pouting lower lip while Tommy and Danny shoved by her out the door and she returned to her seat opening her Justice Maiden lunch box taking a bite of her wonder bread and bologna sandwich and opening her thermos filled with Tang with a sigh.

After school that afternoon after Serena had cleaned the chalkboard and kicked up a chalky white cloud which still hung like heavy curtains on her clothes and hair, she made her way home to the four story brick apartment building where she and Sam D made their home. Serena made herself a bowl of Statesman crunch and settled in wearing her padded Back Alley Brawler super silver boxing gloves to watch her afternoon cartoons while Leticia their next door neighbor who was supposed to watch Serena after school and make dinner but who mostly listened to her Walkman and talked to her boyfriend on the telephone sang Menudo’s “Los Ultimos Heroes” loudly and badly shaking her rump in a funny latin step around the Kitchen.

Leticia was an older girl in her late teens who despite being a bit boy crazy was a pretty good sitter over all and she taught Serena how to cook, all the cool new songs and dance steps to go along with them. She was an excellent cook and made the best Cuajitos en salsa in the world. When she was feeling particularly generous she would put up Seri’s long black hair in big crazy hair do’s and take her down to the arcade on summer afternoons.

However Seri heard something above the tone deaf din of Leticia’s howling. Running to the southern facing window, and creeping out onto the fire escape Seri looked down to find the small blond haired girl surrounded by a group of the biggest, roughest and meanest kids in their class. They had bloodied her nose and torn the arm of her dress. She had scraped her knee and she was holding on to her stomach sobbing and crying out as they took turns kicking her and calling her names.

The alleyway that they had trapped her in ran along behind all of the buildings on the street, and Seri was lucky enough to note that the garbage truck hadn’t yet stopped by to pick up the piles of trash bags, old mattresses and empty the dumpster. Making a plan which only momentarily diverted her mind she yelled out, “Back Alley Beat down!” before hoisting herself over the wrought iron balcony and falling two stories down and into the middle of the group of boys.

Serena, growled, punched and kicked her way into the center of the circle, leaving blackened eyes, bloody noses and busted balls in her wake. She held out her hand to the shaking blond girl who looked up at her with the widest beautiful blue eyes that Serena had ever seen and helped her to stand. Just then Kyle Durgin and Dickie Presman rushed her which she brought them both down by jumping up she and bringing her elbows down hard on their backs making them buckle and fall on their faces to the concrete.

Danny Gilbert-Mason tried sucker punching her, but Seri didn’t feel it, instead she kicked him in the knee and head-butted him in the nose making him cry like a girl and limp off down to the street holding his nose and bleeding on to his Bill and Ted T-shirt.

Then Randy Braves Jr. waded in, he had been held back a year and was twice Seri’s size and mean as a pit-bull, but Seri didn’t back down. She didn’t have a hope for winning this fight, but she was resigned to taking the beating. Here to fore Serena had avoided getting in the way of one of Randy Jr.s fists but today it couldn’t be helped, she just couldn’t sit by and let this girl come to harm, she wouldn’t get mistreated again, not ever again if Seri could help it.

So she took her stance, her feet apart and hands loose at her side, just like Sam D taught her and keeping her eyes on the dirt brown beads of Juniors own she waited for him to make the first move. They circled each other and Serena was aware that his reach was longer than hers, so she would wait for him to move into the body.

Junior didn’t keep her waiting long, he caught her with a strong left hook to the side of her head which sloshed her brain around and left her ears ringing, however she used the momentum of her sideways fall to the earth and grasping the opportunity to take Juniors arm she pivoted with him beneath her. She took him down to the concrete below and soundly boxed his ears to keep him disoriented while she laid five square punches to his ribs, kidneys and face breaking his nose and laying it crooked along his face.

When he tried to retaliate by locking her in a bear hug and standing with her drove her over and over back first into the edge of the dumpster she refused to cry out and instead she drove her knee up between his legs and brought her entire weight down with her elbow onto his collarbone. With a sickening pop his collarbone on the right side dislocated and he dropped to her feet cursing in pain and dribbling blood on the ground.

"From this day forth, none of you shall lay a hand on her, or you have me to answer to, understood?" Serena said barely able to breath, glaring at the group of their classmates and even some she had called friend. They all nodded and even Randy Jr grumbled an acceptance and blubbered off, his right arm useless dangling at his side while his broken nose gushed blood down his face.

Serena kept her word, for seventeen years Serena Jordan and Elizabeth White have been the best of friends. Serena has been Lizzy’s protector and Hero from that day forward, saving her from Bullies and bad dates and Lizzy tending to Seri’s wounds when the fighting was done. When the two girls had reached puberty and their mutant super powers had emerged Serena was better able to take a punch and Lizzy was made healthy and could heal others with just a thought.

However Serena’s greatest fear had finally come true, Lizzy was in the Rogue Isles, and Serena was unable to keep her safe. Who is to say that in that den of murderers, madmen and thieves that out of their multitude a few of them might not be so happy to see her.

Hmm. greatest fear..I can think of a few characters of mine..

Oryo Ryou - seeing a loved one die or possibly die at the hands of others..

Kami Megami - Losing her husband, Caleb Thornton..(they were married as teenagers..).

Rhiannon Archer - Has a fear of enclosed or close spaces with no way out.

((edited my first post to add my story to the thread))

((mmmm sorta already has))
The Journal of Dr Jack Wolfe Aug 20, 2010


Jack sat on the balcony of his loft above Plato's, scotch in hand a discarded photo by his chair. Across the beach on the cliffs overlooking the statue of Talos the old Urban Legends mansion, The Wolfe estate sat guarding the beautiful bay. After 8 years he could still see it, Rikti ships parked over Talos, the force-field flickering around his home, hear the Wolftec plasma cannons on the roofs of the island's building's firing away at the invaders.

The com call still echoed in his ears as the Wolfetec weapons went quiet "Dad, they got the power core."

Talos Island Aug 20 2002-Battle of Talos Island, First Rikti War:

Fighting a holding action in the streets of Talos Jack turned in time to see the shield around his home, his family falter, across the bay he could see the smoke rising from small island where the singularity reactor used to be. .Cursing he tore through the throngs of Rikti in the streets and leapt for his home. Shattering the ivy covered wall as he landed , he was met by a throng of Elite Solders. He could see his family in a line in the courtyard,

The Mentalists odd speech reaching his ears as he strained against the mob of Rikti against brought to bare against him.

"Statement: Hero weapons maker present Conclusion:Strategy Successful. Statement: Hostage usefulness ended."

The blade severed Karen's head cleanly, then his son's, their wives, his daughter, and his finally granddaughters.... Eventually Brawler was able to pull Jack off the armored Rikti, its' head reduced to paste from repeated blows.


"Jack, man, we have a war to win, get your guns back online."

Jack's Balcony Aug 20, 2010:

Eight years later he could still see it. Smell it. Fear it. A nightmare come to life, and it still brought him low.

Finishing his scotch Jack looked across and muttered "Happy Anniversary Karen, I miss you."

(((This flashback to the long dead Urban Legends forum brought to you by Me, who no longer has the heart for real character development. Its a happy story about the power love...really. Sorta hinted at this in our RP last weekend Rose, see what Liz accidentally touched on. For the record I always imagined the Wolfe estate in field/parking lot next to the magic shop, barely visible from the loft over Plato's. It's also the reason for all the deceased entries on his Virtue-Verse profile. )))

I dont usually do fan fiction, but... what can I say? the server is all wonky and im having withdrawals.


From the journal of Lady Penderghast, Midnight Club Archives
Dated Twenty-second September, 1855

The whole setup was perfect! In all my years, and there are so very many of them, now, I had never seen a setting more perfectly suited to dark magic rituals and mystical showdowns. The forces of evil may lack many things I suppose, but a sense of drama is not among them.

Once the place had been the castle of a Scottish lord, but that time was long past. Now the battlements lay in ruins; their debris strewn about the courtyard haphazardly, moss covered and forlorn. The walls, or what remained of them, circled a courtyard overgrown with weeds and moss. It was midnight, and the moon cast soft, strange-looking shadows upon the ground; where it shone past the jagged edges of the walls the pattern it cast almost seemed like the jaws of some unimaginable creature reaching out for me.

The entire scene was so still! No wind blew nor birds called. They should have. There should be some portent to mark such moments, I feel - it would be only fair. But then, I don't suppose that anybody ever promised life was fair.

The tranquil lonely scene was ruined only be three things. The first was me, standing in the doorway, casting my senses about for hidden traps.

The second was the ritual circle - a nine-pointed star, laid out in links of silver chain, and anointed with blood. Where the blood had come from I could not say, but the it was fresh enough to still be steaming, cooling quickly in the cold, still air. It was a profane thing, and when my senses reached it - my gaze, and my other senses both, it made my stomach want to wretch. The magic of that circle felt like peering into a great ocean maelstrom - not merely empty, but hungry An all-consuming, terrible darkness. I had felt it before, many times, but it never affected me any less.

The third thing was the cultists, and Gideon, my Gideon, with a knife held to his throat. There were thirteen of them (inevitably), in black robes that hid their faces from the light of the moon, and hung in voluminous, loose folds to the floor. They were not old enemies. they were no one I knew. In fact, as I reached my senses towards them I blinked in surprise. there was talent there, certainly, but none of them had the strength or skill they would need for the a summoning of the magnitude for which they were prepared. Something was wrong.

And they had my love, my Lenheaa'si. They had taken him and threatened to kill him if I did not come at the appointed hour. They hadn't told me why. I had no choice.

I could try something, of course. It is not for nothing that I am called Archmage. But they knife was at his throat. What if I failed? What if I were too slow, or misjudged their talents? The barest fraction of an instant was all the warning they would need, and... I stopped. I refused to think about it.

I had had few lovers over the years. Time and again, I had thought myself beyond the reach of passion, but Venus, as they say, is not easily thwarted, even by death itself. *****. It was wonderful, every time, always subtly, wonderfully different, and yet the same. And when it ended - when mortality stole them from me - it was always unbearable.

I spoke softly, my voice carrying across the courtyard, "I am here as you have asked me to secure My Lord's return."

Gideon always teased me about having to call him by his title in public, given who and what I was. There were forms to be observed. And besides, it was nice, sometimes, being "his" lady. I ended that musing too - I could not afford distractions.

The leader sneered and there was something wrong with his voice as he spoke - an oily quality no human vocal cords should have produced, "Mmm, very good. Continue to cooperate, and I may content myself with only a few trophies from your little lover."

I still could not see his eyes, but his grin, and his blackened aura, were enough. He was sick - perhaps twisted by the powers he had dealt with, or perhaps damned long before then. He would do it without a moment's hesitation. He would torture and maim my love, while I looked on, helpless, and he would enjoy it.

I wanted to kill him where he stood. For a moment, I felt my face twist itself into a snarl, and magic lept to my fingertips, but he tensed his hand on the knife, and I forced myself to stop.

Lowering the hand I had raised on instinct I answered him, my voice high and clear and unafraid, "Harm him, and nothing will then remain to shield thee from my wrath. If thou knowest my name and nature, then thou knowest also that thou art a fool to threaten me. Release my consort, and begone from this place, and Thou shalt have my oath to seek thee not."

Indigo fire sprung from my eyes, and danced suddenly on my fingertips, lighting the scene in a harsh surreal glare as I stared the leader down, the flames making me look terrible and inhuman in the darkness. Conveniently, it so happened that I was. The threat of my raised hand I left unspoken but clearly implied.

The other twelve robed men - the followers - rocked back on their heals as if struck by a light hurricane. Their manner grew even more nervous than before, and some began to eye the door behind them as if contemplating a retreat. Only the leader mattered though. His hand held the knife. The leader held firm; he was too far gone in his madness to be properly afraid for his life.

That countenance and that voice had cowed gods and emperors before, but not this pitiful would-be mageling?! I wanted to weep with frustration. I wanted to howl until my throat bled. Instead I forced myself to lower my hand a second time, and wait, with queenly patience, for his response.

his voice still sounded wrong, and this time it was filled with the mad certainty of the true zealot. "We are the chosen of Rhaehangoroth. We do not fear to die in our lord's service! Do as we ask, or your husband will die with us."

I kept my manner from faltering as I asked, "what is it you wish?"

He snickered, wet, ugly sound, and looked towards the circle on the floor. "You see your task before you, archmage. We have not the strength to bring our master to this world, but YOU do. And you will! Tonight begins a new age of the world!"

His followers were too nervous to burst into the sort of fevered applause he had obviously been hoping for but Im not even sure he noticed.

For a long, long moment we stood there, staring at each other, and I thought. I thought of the death and destruction such a being would cause. I thought of how I might not be able to stop it from horribly killing myself and Gideon, both, anyway. I thought of the evil I would have to work with to complete the spell at all, and the stain it might leave upon me. I looked at my husband, at his strong, honest eyes, and saw him pleading with me not to do it. I thought of how he would rather die than be responsible for something like this.

None of it mattered. I was in love. May God forgive me, I would have done anything for him. Anything they asked. Whomever these men were, they had chosen exactly the right leverage.

"Swear it." I said quietly. "Swear it by your power. Swear it in your master's name."

His grin grew even more sickening. he had won, and he knew it. He opened his mouth to oblige me, but before he could Gideon - my Gideon - proved just how much better and braver a person he was than could ever be. he stepped forwards. Into the razer-sharp knife.

There was a surreal moment when enither I nor my enemies could believe what had happened. I stared at the red line forming on the left side of his throat as if at a painting, unable to make myself accept that it was real. That hesitation wa all the time he needed to grab his captors hand and... force him to finish the job.

The look of triumph on the leader's face turned to horror as his hostage fell to the ground.

He fled as I ran forward, the fires I ah called forgotten as rushed to my lover's side, pressing my hand over the wound. So deap! he Only seconds, yet already he was in danger of bleeding out. ANd his throat was severed. He had cut himself all the way down to the bone of his spine, but only isntants had passed, and I was an archmage. I poor healing power into him, knowing i could bring him back... but I met resistance.

The dagger! it must have been cursed. Its malevolent power worked against mine, and I pressed harder, trying to force my way through it. It took my only moments to succeed... but moments were more than he had. When I finally won free to use my magics on him, I looked down, and saw his eyes cold and dead. He had died, and in my furious distraction I hadn't even seen him mouth his last words.

I did weep, now, but not for long. I refused to. There were thirteen men out there, fleeing over the moore, who would pay for what they had done. Fire came again at the thought. The minions I would burn to ash, and for the leader - the one who did not fear to die - for him I would do far, far worse. If nothing else... it would distract me, for a little while, from having to bury the love of my life.

If I was very lucky, I might eventually forget who's fault it really was.


That was fun, and the game's working again. The moral of the story is that Val, being more or less immortal, doesn't really fear for herself. Like so many heroines and heroes, she fears to bring harm to those she allows herself to care for through her association with them, as she did her late husband above.

Double Post

((Oh God, I never realized this counted as fanfic.....:drops to her knees throwing up her hands in supplication to all the Gods: NOOOOOOOOOOO! she screams before collapsing with exhausted crying ))

I knwo right? What have we BECOME???!!!

((I always thought Fanfic was like imposing yourself into Star Trek and having Spocks love child or something, not RP in short story format. :is a sad panda: ))

Ruins of Denver, several years ago

It was dark. It was always dark, the clouds whipping around the ruins of what was once Denver International Airport, an ugly greenish cast to the sky above. the earth wasn't happy with the way things had gone the last few years Jeb Kincaid though as he munched a protein bar, standing in the commanders hatch of the M1 called Snowdog. The tank was ancient, yet one of the few vehicles still running in what was left of this part of the plains. Formerly belonging to the Colorado National Guard, it now flew the flag of Praetoria from the radio antenna. Not that Colorado really existed anymore, since the Devouring Earth came up from the plains. If he cared, he could have used the tank's targeting system to zoom in on the ruins of Denver in the distance, skyscrapers still choked with vines.

Still, the war was over. Cole had done the impossible, and beaten the Devouring Earth. Jeb wasn't sure what came next, he'd been fighting alongside Marauder ever since the big man came across their small community years ago near what was once Fort Carson, under siege from would be warlords coveting the mil-tech in the ruined base.

Now Marauder was called Praetor White, Cole himself had offered him the job of Praetor of Security, and White took it. Not that Jeb blamed him, hell he had gotten an offer to move as well. He'd acquitted himself well in the wars, and could have had a tank command in the Praetorian Guard near the new Imperial City. He'd turned it down though, he was hoping to get back to Alaska one of these days now that things had settled down. Besides, there were rumors about Praetor Tilman, probably not true but enough to make his wife not to want to go within a thousand kilometers of the new capital. You didn't have to be psychic to see that coming to the attention of the government wasn't necessarily a good thing, and Tabitha was. He sighed, tossing the wrapper for the bar in a garbage bag as the dismounted troops came back into sight out of the ruins “any sign Casey?”

“negative Sir” the lead trooper replied, “looks like the raiders bugged out long before we got here, just found a jury rigged transmitter that was playing that message we picked up”

“crap...why would they go through all that to lure us out here...not for an ambush, they learned that lesson the hard-” he stopped in mid sentence as his wife's mind-link hit him. Images, fire around the radio tower, people shouting in fear and pain. Lots of pain. < Jeb, they're here! >

“It's a diversion! They're at New Boulder, hitting it now!”

Everyone looked alarmed and started scrambling towards their vehicles, Snowdog's driver scrambling back into her seat, the big turbine engine wailing to life. Still...it took them most of the day to get here-there was no way, none for them to get there in time. Even at max speed, with as bad as the highways were choked with rubble, they'd arrive in time to bury the bodies-assuming there were any. These raiders were known for ****** their victims to death, eating their flesh, and sewing their skins into their clothing. And if they were very, very lucky, doing it in that order. There was one thing he could do though...but that would betray Tabitha's secret, bringing the attention to her that she so desperately wished to avoid...and he knew his wife well enough to know she was fighting the invaders, sending up a psychic flag big enough that Praetor Tillman would have to be blind drunk to miss. Once again he felt the touch of her mind <beloved? Do as thou must for the sake of everyone >

he simply nodded and switched his com over to the command satellite frequency, the one that had been set up for reporting found psychics “This is Major Kincaid, Praetorian Guard 15th Squadron requesting assistance in New Boulder, str...strong psychic detected and is under attack by raiders.”


It almost felt like a physical blow, very different from Tabitha's gentle touch * one of MY Children! Threatened! Do not worry Major, Mother has forces on the way!*


shaken, he almost lost his grip on the edge of the hatch “l..lets get going, helps on the way people.”
<she is coming > he sent on the link to Tabitha <don't stay, get moving, let the reinforcements fight them! RUN !!>

<running is no longer an option. She knows of us now, but she shall not have us. This day was foretold in the stars before you were born. We will wait for you on the other side, then we shall build or heaven together. >

“Wait what?” he said, unaware he was speaking aloud. He saw glimpses, the raiders had an armored vehicle as well, the leader a burly mutant wearing a hockey mask and having blades poking from his skin. He smelled his breath, felt Tabitha's telekinesis reaching out...searching for a fuel line on the vehicle....then bright light, blinding him, and the link was gone.


Imperial City, present day

It had been years. She would have been in school by now, his daughter who died with his pregnant wife who sacrificed her own life rather than let Tilman get a hold of her. Tilman was furious when she'd arrived, not even enough left of her prize to bury. He'd walked away from the Guard after that, trying to find peace. Yet here he was, underneath the fortress-hospital where his wife and daughter would have ended up. Nodding to the other resistance members with him, he checked his Glocks one more time, then looked up, his eyes as cold as an Alaskan glacier. “It's go time.”