[672 / 5 / ?]
Previously on With Great Power Quest: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=With%20Great%20Power%20Quest
There were times on a hot day like this, the heat rising off the cement streets of Chicago so thick it formed a shimmer in the air, that I thought I'd be doing the world a bigger favor going around punching oil executives in the throat instead of tailing my friend Zeke. Something to consider doing one day, when I wasn't so worried about Zeke's intentions. He'd fallen into a bad crowd.
It had started with the Committee of Community Vigilance, the voice of the average person concerned by the deadly rise of the 'parafreaks'. And to give them some credit, they had good reason to be concerned. I'd seen what out of control monsters like the Ooze could do, with half digested corpses floating through his gelatinous guts. But then along came the Humanity First movement and their 'militia'. Gun totting thugs harassing children, throwing bombs through front room windows, getting more and more extreme with each unpunished act of violence until an even more radical group, the Patriots, had emerged.
I don't know where exactly Zeke fell on the spectrum of anti-para hate, but last I'd seen him he'd been attending the baby fascist boot camp, 'The Guardians'. Like the Scouts but with pipe bombs. Now he'd wandered off talking weird shit about how 'sorry' he was. The guilt of bad intentions. Hopefully enough guilt not to go through with it.
He booked out of the water park, double strapping his backpack as he hunched forward, skulking his way through the crowd. He was wearing a hoodie even in this mid-summer heat.
Following him in just board shorts probably wasn't going to work. I pulled on a shirt, quickly wetting it through, but at least it hid my scarred up chest. If I'm being honest I wasn't comfortable going around without a shirt, those white mutilating scars there for everyone to see. Playing hero left its mark, and the marks weren't pleasant.
Zeke got out his phone, looked at something, then put it away. He hadn't notice me follow him out. Chicago in summer got crowded. With school out, tourists from all over poured in, and it was a hot enough a lot of people were headed for the lake. It helped give me some cover at least, though it made following Zeke on foot no picnic either, shoving my way through the wide load of a few midwesterner tourists in with their wide kids 'looking for the bean'.
I'd told Ayesha and Ivy what I was up to before heading out but otherwise I was alone. My focus was fixed on Zeke's hunched shoulders.
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>rolling skill checks is a best of three 1d100 roll, rolling over a DC with bonuses or minuses based on competing factors
>roll 3 x 1d100 + 20 dc 60
There were times on a hot day like this, the heat rising off the cement streets of Chicago so thick it formed a shimmer in the air, that I thought I'd be doing the world a bigger favor going around punching oil executives in the throat instead of tailing my friend Zeke. Something to consider doing one day, when I wasn't so worried about Zeke's intentions. He'd fallen into a bad crowd.
It had started with the Committee of Community Vigilance, the voice of the average person concerned by the deadly rise of the 'parafreaks'. And to give them some credit, they had good reason to be concerned. I'd seen what out of control monsters like the Ooze could do, with half digested corpses floating through his gelatinous guts. But then along came the Humanity First movement and their 'militia'. Gun totting thugs harassing children, throwing bombs through front room windows, getting more and more extreme with each unpunished act of violence until an even more radical group, the Patriots, had emerged.
I don't know where exactly Zeke fell on the spectrum of anti-para hate, but last I'd seen him he'd been attending the baby fascist boot camp, 'The Guardians'. Like the Scouts but with pipe bombs. Now he'd wandered off talking weird shit about how 'sorry' he was. The guilt of bad intentions. Hopefully enough guilt not to go through with it.
He booked out of the water park, double strapping his backpack as he hunched forward, skulking his way through the crowd. He was wearing a hoodie even in this mid-summer heat.
Following him in just board shorts probably wasn't going to work. I pulled on a shirt, quickly wetting it through, but at least it hid my scarred up chest. If I'm being honest I wasn't comfortable going around without a shirt, those white mutilating scars there for everyone to see. Playing hero left its mark, and the marks weren't pleasant.
Zeke got out his phone, looked at something, then put it away. He hadn't notice me follow him out. Chicago in summer got crowded. With school out, tourists from all over poured in, and it was a hot enough a lot of people were headed for the lake. It helped give me some cover at least, though it made following Zeke on foot no picnic either, shoving my way through the wide load of a few midwesterner tourists in with their wide kids 'looking for the bean'.
I'd told Ayesha and Ivy what I was up to before heading out but otherwise I was alone. My focus was fixed on Zeke's hunched shoulders.
-
>rolling skill checks is a best of three 1d100 roll, rolling over a DC with bonuses or minuses based on competing factors
>roll 3 x 1d100 + 20 dc 60
