Encounterlogs
Gingers Odd Encounter Sr Meridith 240624
In the pre-dawn hours of Main Street, Ginger finds herself in a cryptic conversation with Abigail, who reveals an urgent plea from the Temple. Abigail explains that despite Ginger's unique abilities, which might normally make her a target for elimination, the Temple seeks her help instead. With a looming threat described metaphorically as a "deep black hole consuming the world," Abigail implores Ginger to consider joining their cause, leaving her with a chilling decision to ponder. The gravity of the situation is not lost on Ginger, who is left visibly shaken and contemplative as Abigail departs, stressing the dire need for her collaboration.
Meanwhile, Konstantin faces his own dilemma, driven outside by the unbearable noise from his upstairs neighbors. His moment of respite is abruptly interrupted by an alert from Hand communications, warning of aggressive actions by the Temple's Intelligence Subfaction against their operatives. Faced with the responsibility of either rescuing captured comrades or dealing with them if compromised, Konstantin prepares for confrontation. Equipping himself and reviewing intelligence on his phone, he decides to take on the mission solo, showcasing his determination and resourcefulness. As he mounts his motorbike, prepared to face whatever awaits, the narrative intertwines his personal battles with the larger conflict at play, highlighting a world fraught with tension and the looming threat that binds all characters together.
(Ginger's odd encounter(SRMeridith):SRMeridith)
[Sun Jun 23 2024]
On Main Street
It is before dawn, about 71F(21C) degrees, There is a waning gibbous moon.
She appraises Ginger a moment, pursing her lips. "It's a waste of your gifts to go without using them. The Temple has the means of using them," she informs Ginger. "Consider coming to us willingly, before you make a mistake and must be brought it." She hands Ginger a card. "Keep your nose clean, you've...got this," she replies in a tone cold it's hard to tell if she's being cruel or not.
Ginger coughs a couple times. "Wait you want me for the Temple?" She leans closer and lowers her tone, looking at miss Winters a bit confused. "Don't the Temple want to eliminate... stuff like me?"
raises a brow. "We are at war, Ginger. With a deep black hole consuming the world. You aren't the problem, you're a symptom but you can help use fix it none the less."
Abigail raises a brow. "We are at war, Ginger. With a deep black hole consuming the world. You aren't the problem, you're a symptom but you can help use fix it none the less."
Ginger is just shocked at the bomb Abigail drops about the black hole. She stares at the woman with a more solemn countenance and swallows hard. "I'll think about it." she promises, choosing to look out a window right then. "That's um... that's pretty heavy to think about."
It might have been a metaphor about the corrupting influence but Abigail doesn't mind the impact. "The Temple will not hesitate to use whatever they have at their disposal to save this world. You should aid us." Content, Abigail begins to stride away, leaving Ginger to contemplate her words.
(Your target has been picked up by members of an opposing faction or subfaction keen to get some intelligence from them. While the villains must abide by the understanding they will work their hardest to get the information, your target must resist for long enough or throw them off the trail for their allies to arrive and help get them out.
)
It's the crack of dawn, with fingers of orange and yellow reaching across a canvas of brightening blues. So rarely is the town as calm as it is in these liminal hours. That's only outside Konstantin's apartment unit, of course. Living in a complex has its drawbacks, and an hour or two ago, Konstantin's upstairs neighbors had decided to remind Konstantin of what exactly those are. Their feet had mimicked the clap of thunder. It's remarkable how loud they are, stomping across the floor. There's banging. One might assume that they were rearranging all of their furniture, or had decided to test how far they can throw kitchen chairs.
The point is, they've driven Konstantin to the brink of insanity, and out of doors. Now he's free to do whatever it is that he likes, as long as it isn't sleep. So many options: grab a shitty coffee from a cafe chain, eat greasy diner food, peruse the half-empty museum. Or...
There's also the Haven stock standard. He could get himself into a ton of trouble. Right on cue, Konstantin's phone goes off. There's an alert going off on Hand communications - Temple Intelligence, alongside their attack dogs, are on the warpath.
WARNING.
SITUATION OVERVIEW.
Reliable sources have informed us that the Temple's Intelligence Subfaction has escalated aggressive actions against us. Two Hand operatives reported MIA.
Immediate actions required:
Fortify protection in Haven. Double security details. Implement counter-surveillance measures.
Retrieve captured operatives - or kill, if compromised. Reinforce all outposts. It seems like they've gotten more aggressive in the last month. There had been hints: talk of neutralizing supers en masse and kidnapping them for information, or for keeps. It wouldn't be a problem if it weren't for the fact that they've advanced with worrying speed. It's not just that a couple of Konstantin's own have been targeted. It's that if the pattern holds - and two does not a pattern make, but both names are notable leadership - they'll be coming for him next.
Not a good week for Konstantin. He's fighting on every front, with multiple factions and cults smelling blood in the water.
Konstantin has been enjoying a cigarette at the roadside - his most reliable solace in this most shitty of weeks. The throb of his sleed-deprivation-induced headache and now the crippling tiredness; both are beaten back by the sweet release of nicotine. A little bit of dutch couraged helped get him out the door, ofcourse, and he is close to being primed for whatever may come. And it does indeed come; phone buzzing and blaring a specific tone that has him grabbing for it with an urgency that sees his cigarette cast aside.
Opening the alert, his eyes narrow slightly as he takes in the scroll and review the operative datasheets with photographs and all that classified goodness. Ahh, a lovely sunday morning. Konstantin reaches down to check the sheathe behind his belt and the revolver stowed in his pocket, cracking the latter to check the rounds, before turning and walking towards his fresh new motorbike. He takes a moment to admire it as he approaches, the rust-free bodywork and the high power engine that leaves inferior examples of the Ninja line eating its dust.
Mounting the seat with a leg thrown over, he taps at his phone screen again, scanning the available intel, searching for any successful trace of the hostages' location with the intent of kicking the stand back up and tearing away in that direction; a quick glance through his contacts and society communications finding his sparse few capable chohorts here in Haven occupied.
You know what they say; If you want a job done right, do it yourself.
Meanwhile, Konstantin faces his own dilemma, driven outside by the unbearable noise from his upstairs neighbors. His moment of respite is abruptly interrupted by an alert from Hand communications, warning of aggressive actions by the Temple's Intelligence Subfaction against their operatives. Faced with the responsibility of either rescuing captured comrades or dealing with them if compromised, Konstantin prepares for confrontation. Equipping himself and reviewing intelligence on his phone, he decides to take on the mission solo, showcasing his determination and resourcefulness. As he mounts his motorbike, prepared to face whatever awaits, the narrative intertwines his personal battles with the larger conflict at play, highlighting a world fraught with tension and the looming threat that binds all characters together.
(Ginger's odd encounter(SRMeridith):SRMeridith)
[Sun Jun 23 2024]
On Main Street
It is before dawn, about 71F(21C) degrees, There is a waning gibbous moon.
She appraises Ginger a moment, pursing her lips. "It's a waste of your gifts to go without using them. The Temple has the means of using them," she informs Ginger. "Consider coming to us willingly, before you make a mistake and must be brought it." She hands Ginger a card. "Keep your nose clean, you've...got this," she replies in a tone cold it's hard to tell if she's being cruel or not.
Ginger coughs a couple times. "Wait you want me for the Temple?" She leans closer and lowers her tone, looking at miss Winters a bit confused. "Don't the Temple want to eliminate... stuff like me?"
raises a brow. "We are at war, Ginger. With a deep black hole consuming the world. You aren't the problem, you're a symptom but you can help use fix it none the less."
Abigail raises a brow. "We are at war, Ginger. With a deep black hole consuming the world. You aren't the problem, you're a symptom but you can help use fix it none the less."
Ginger is just shocked at the bomb Abigail drops about the black hole. She stares at the woman with a more solemn countenance and swallows hard. "I'll think about it." she promises, choosing to look out a window right then. "That's um... that's pretty heavy to think about."
It might have been a metaphor about the corrupting influence but Abigail doesn't mind the impact. "The Temple will not hesitate to use whatever they have at their disposal to save this world. You should aid us." Content, Abigail begins to stride away, leaving Ginger to contemplate her words.
(Your target has been picked up by members of an opposing faction or subfaction keen to get some intelligence from them. While the villains must abide by the understanding they will work their hardest to get the information, your target must resist for long enough or throw them off the trail for their allies to arrive and help get them out.
)
It's the crack of dawn, with fingers of orange and yellow reaching across a canvas of brightening blues. So rarely is the town as calm as it is in these liminal hours. That's only outside Konstantin's apartment unit, of course. Living in a complex has its drawbacks, and an hour or two ago, Konstantin's upstairs neighbors had decided to remind Konstantin of what exactly those are. Their feet had mimicked the clap of thunder. It's remarkable how loud they are, stomping across the floor. There's banging. One might assume that they were rearranging all of their furniture, or had decided to test how far they can throw kitchen chairs.
The point is, they've driven Konstantin to the brink of insanity, and out of doors. Now he's free to do whatever it is that he likes, as long as it isn't sleep. So many options: grab a shitty coffee from a cafe chain, eat greasy diner food, peruse the half-empty museum. Or...
There's also the Haven stock standard. He could get himself into a ton of trouble. Right on cue, Konstantin's phone goes off. There's an alert going off on Hand communications - Temple Intelligence, alongside their attack dogs, are on the warpath.
WARNING.
SITUATION OVERVIEW.
Reliable sources have informed us that the Temple's Intelligence Subfaction has escalated aggressive actions against us. Two Hand operatives reported MIA.
Immediate actions required:
Fortify protection in Haven. Double security details. Implement counter-surveillance measures.
Retrieve captured operatives - or kill, if compromised. Reinforce all outposts. It seems like they've gotten more aggressive in the last month. There had been hints: talk of neutralizing supers en masse and kidnapping them for information, or for keeps. It wouldn't be a problem if it weren't for the fact that they've advanced with worrying speed. It's not just that a couple of Konstantin's own have been targeted. It's that if the pattern holds - and two does not a pattern make, but both names are notable leadership - they'll be coming for him next.
Not a good week for Konstantin. He's fighting on every front, with multiple factions and cults smelling blood in the water.
Konstantin has been enjoying a cigarette at the roadside - his most reliable solace in this most shitty of weeks. The throb of his sleed-deprivation-induced headache and now the crippling tiredness; both are beaten back by the sweet release of nicotine. A little bit of dutch couraged helped get him out the door, ofcourse, and he is close to being primed for whatever may come. And it does indeed come; phone buzzing and blaring a specific tone that has him grabbing for it with an urgency that sees his cigarette cast aside.
Opening the alert, his eyes narrow slightly as he takes in the scroll and review the operative datasheets with photographs and all that classified goodness. Ahh, a lovely sunday morning. Konstantin reaches down to check the sheathe behind his belt and the revolver stowed in his pocket, cracking the latter to check the rounds, before turning and walking towards his fresh new motorbike. He takes a moment to admire it as he approaches, the rust-free bodywork and the high power engine that leaves inferior examples of the Ninja line eating its dust.
Mounting the seat with a leg thrown over, he taps at his phone screen again, scanning the available intel, searching for any successful trace of the hostages' location with the intent of kicking the stand back up and tearing away in that direction; a quick glance through his contacts and society communications finding his sparse few capable chohorts here in Haven occupied.
You know what they say; If you want a job done right, do it yourself.