PUPPET SHOW Mitchell and Tyler, together again [While others searched for Ashiya and the dread Puppet Master, two recent acquaintances were reunited...] [GM] [to Tyler] You barely remember anything after that terrible moment that someone grabbed you from behind, shoved a pungent rag in your face, and everything went black. But you know that you HAVE been awake and doing things during that time. You just don't know what. In fact, everything is rather hazy. Except now, the haze is finally being lifted. You are in a rather luxurious apartment in what you know is St. Louis, though you're not sure where in that city (for that matter, you don't know St. Louis at all!). And the man who gives your life meaning, an enigmatic Russian who is known to all of his minions only as Puppet Master, stands in the living room, sipping vodka. It's strange how many of the details are blank; you don't know HOW you know this is Missouri, or even when was the last time you saw the Puppet Master. You can't specifically bring to mind a previous time that you saw him in person, yet you recognize his handsome face, dignified and stern, middle-aged though appearing older because of the silver hair. [Think Magneto. ] You know that you are totally loyal to him. You would do ANYTHING he asked of you without hesitation. If he told you to put a gun to your head and shoot yourself, you'd do it. (At least, you think you'd do it.) You don't even question why you're so obedient to him, or from whence this loyalty came. You certainly have no reason to follow him, but you just do, with almost mindless obedience. {Almost. Somewhere, deep down, a voice that sounds like who you used to be screams *This is WRONG!* But it can't scream loud enough to disturb you.} It also surprises you a little, but not much, to see Mitchell is here with you. It is a little confusing, your life apparently ending at one point and resuming at another, like watching a movie and suddenly missing half an hour in the middle, but the same force that makes you accept your total loyalty to the Puppet Master also smoothes away all those doubts and concerns about how you came to be where you are now in your present condition, and knowing lots of things you can't remember learning, while not knowing lots of things you should. For instance, you know that the Puppet Master had you experiment with your powers some more. His own theory is that you are pulling objects from another dimension. When you attempt to summon something, it seems that your power draws the nearest, closest representation of that something it can find to you. But "nearest" may not always be on Earth, or the Earth you know, apparently. And "closest representation" may be something very different than what you intended. And sometimes, your power just plain flakes out. Even more exciting was the discovery that your power can also create two-way gates, usable to transport people and things between two- points on Earth! (You haven't yet experimented with going someplace BESIDES Earth; Puppet Master didn't want to risk losing you...) Your range seems to be quite remarkable; at one point, you dropped in on your family in Celina, Texas, then came back to St. Louis when Puppet Master's implanted order went off in your mind. You can only go somewhere you've been before, though. {A little longer, maybe you could have broken free! you sob} "So, Miss Sterrit, you are pleased to be reunited with your friend Mr. Langstrom, I assume?" the Puppet Master chuckles. [to Mystery] You barely remember anything after that terrible moment that everything went black. But you know that you HAVE been awake and doing things during that time. You just don't know what. In fact, everything is rather hazy. Except now, the haze is finally being lifted. You are in a rather luxurious apartment in what you know is St. Louis, though you're not sure where in that city (for that matter, you don't know St. Louis at all!). And the man who gives your life meaning, an enigmatic Russian who is known to all of his minions only as Puppet Master, stands in the living room, sipping vodka. It's strange how many of the details are blank; you don't know HOW you know this is Missouri, or even when was the last time you saw the Puppet Master. You can't specifically bring to mind a previous time that you saw him in person, yet you recognize his handsome face, dignified and stern, middle-aged though appearing older because of the silver hair. [Think Magneto. ] You know that you are totally loyal to him. Not that you want to be, oh no. He wouldn't give you the peace of mind of *mindless* obedience and an altered personality. He left your original personality quite intact; inside, you scream at the unbreakable mental bonds he's placed on your mind. You've tried to override his obedience conditioning, over and over again. He let you, because it gave him the opportunity to work his will on you, ingraining himself deeper and deeper into your mind. Like porcupine quills, or a strangleknot, the more you resist, the deeper and tighter you are snared. You must obey everything he says. You've tried all the tricks, of course, like interpreting his commands in creative ways, or trying to "misunderstand" him, or acting in ways not specifically forbidden, or refusing to act in ways not specifically allowed....it doesn't work. For all practical purposes, you are his loyal, obedient slave, compelled to obey not only the letter of his commands, but the spirit of his intent as well. As best you are able, you must act in the manner you believe he wishes. But you HATE it. You HATE him. You only wish you could tell him that, but he got sick of your insults, and commanded you to speak respectfully to him. Now you have to be obedient and POLITE. The best you can do now is THINK hateful thoughts at him, because you know he hears them. It also surprises you a little, but not much, to see Tyler is here with you. Surprised and sad. You don't even know what's become of Ashiya, but you're sure it must be horrible. It is a little confusing, your life apparently ending at one point and resuming at another, like watching a movie and suddenly missing half an hour in the middle. "So, Miss Sterrit, you are pleased to be reunited with your friend Mr. Langstrom, I assume?" the Puppet Master chuckles. <><><><><> Tyler: Tyler started from her introspective reverie at the Puppet Master's question. "Ummm? Yeah, guess ah am." She was more than just pleased, in fact, but she kept her counsel. She felt adrift in a world not of her choosing, and Mitchell was a bright anchor of sensibility. He'd said *reunited*; the implication was one of time lost. She didn't *feel* like she'd lost any time, but the clues kept piling up. Strange city, not knowing how she got here, that sort of thing. She examined her clothes. Different. Tyler'd never worn anything quite like them, now that she considered it. She was braless under a black tank top, with loose-fit jeans and black lacers. She had a beaded narrow belt with a small silver-shell buckle. Not her usual. The buckle. She remembered being a little more traditional country. What had happened to her taste? At least her ultra-thick shaggy mass of hair was unchanged. "Y'know, ah was thinkin'...ah think ah'm summonin' this stuff from alternate universes where *ah* existed, one way or another. 'S why ah get stuff sometimes with mah name on it, from places ah ain't been." She sauntered over behind Mitchell, who was seated, and began rubbing his shoulders in a surprisingly possessive gesture. Or maybe, holding on to that anchor. She considered the Puppet Master again, and shivered slightly at his powerful niche in her world. Hadn't she always been something of a loner, dependent on nobody? It was all hazy. A twitch in her rehabbed leg reminded her that there were constants... "Wonder what would happen if ah tried to summon mahself." <><><><><> Mystery: Mitchell looks forlornly to Tyler. "Its good to see you again too," he whispers sadly, then brightens a bit. "Well, at least we make a pretty good team, whatever side of the law we're on." He pauses, thinking. "Maybe so," Mitchell replies to the speculation on the nature of Tyler's power. "In that case, either the stuff is coming from worlds where you died, or else you're stealing yourself blind." Mitchell grins wryly. Mitchell sighs, relaxing a bit with the shoulder rub. "Remind me to return the favor." He looks over to the Puppet Master after a long moment, carefully considering his options. "What's next on the agenda, sir?" he inquires, rolling his eyes slightly at Tyler to show his real thoughts toward the Puppet Master. <><><><><> [GM] "An interesting experiment," the Puppet Master says to Tyler. "But let's save that for another time. One...what is it you were calling yourself? 'Handygirl'? Juvenile, but use it if you wish. One 'Handygirl' is enough." "As for what's next," he smiles cruelly. "A reunion with another friend of yours; Christine Tallin. You recall the woman you met in New York, yes? She's calling herself 'Crystal' now." "She wants to make herself a celebrity, and use her metahuman status to enhance her insignificant career. And she has plans for meeting other metahumans. Perhaps forming a group for mutual protection and, of course, good publicity." "I want her destroyed. I want her public image shattered, I want her to be thoroughly discredited, made a national figure of scandal and betrayal." He looks at Mitchell. "And you will be the ideal instrument to carry that out. Because all you have to do is touch her, and you can *become* her." He smiles even more broadly. "But simply turning into Christine Tallin and going out to commit random crimes wouldn't be nearly sufficient, oh no. Not when you can create such a web of destruction and betrayal in her life that everyone who knew her will curse her name." "I could do the same thing, of course, simply by traveling to Los Angeles, absorbing all her memories, and then compelling her to do as I wish. But I have many operations running at once, and I can't spare that much personal attention on this one. So you two are going to go there, ingratiate yourselves with Miss Tallin, and once you know enough about her life, Miss Sterrit will send her to ME, while Mr. Langstrom will replace her." "Mr. Langstrom, unfortunately, will have to pretend to be someone else, since otherwise, the U.S. Justice Department would undoubtedly track him down, wondering how he came to be in Los Angeles after recently disappearing in Chicago. That should not present a problem. We will contrive a suitable identity for you; Miss Sterrit's boyfriend, perhaps. Miss Sterrit's story will be that she wanted to get as far away from New York as possible after nearly getting killed by that madwoman, and then facing possible interrogation by federal agents. Not terribly unfeasible, considering your previous mindset, no, Miss Sterrit?" "Have you ever been to Los Angeles, Miss Sterrit? If so, it will save me the arrangements for a flight for the two of you." He chuckles. "Either way, I plan to arrange for you to arrive at a time that will be most opportune, from Miss Tallin's point of view." <><><><><> Tyler: Tyler's stomach twisted, but she answered. "Ellay? Yeah, ah s'pose. Memorial Coliseum, near Exposition Park. PRCA indoor show there every year. Then there's the Orange County Fairgrounds...couple o' smaller shows, like the San Manuel Indian tribe's...'s'out on the rez near San Bernardino. "Ah done the touristy stuff, too, sometimes. Reckon ah can find mah way there and back." She didn't add, "...leading a suckered or unconscious Crystal back to *your* clutches." That part was understood. Her hands tightened on Mitchell's shoulders. Why didn't she like this? She *knew* she wanted to do it, to please the a**hole across the room. "Ah need a drink," she said. Drown that nagging little spark of conscience; that's the way. <><><><><> [GM] "Excellent," Puppet Master says. He gestures at a fully-stocked liquor cabinet. "By all means. Help yourself to anything but the Scotch; I am saving that. You may pour some for Mr. Langstrom too, if your conscience will not be bothered by contributing to the corruption of a minor." He laughs darkly. A phone number suddenly manifests in both your minds. "Take Mr. Langstrom to Los Angeles, and check into whatever hotel you find suitable...under assumed identities, of course." He tosses Tyler a large purse. "An assortment of false driver's licenses and other identification for you, Miss Sterrit, and a variety of random IDs from which Mr. Langstrom can pick and choose the person he will be. Several credit cards, and $10,000 in small bills, which should more than cover your expenses. Get yourselves settled and then call me for further instructions, in about a day." <><><><><> Tyler: Tyler found a bottle of Jack Daniels and poured herself a stiff one, downed it in two swallows, and refilled. The whiskey's heat scorched her throat and filled her head pleasantly, an alcoholic sauna. "You want one, Mitch?" She poured him one without waiting for an answer. She'd drink it herself, if he rejected the offer. Back at Mitchell's side. There was comfort there, an oasis of humanity in the chill wasteland of the Puppet Master's presence. She caught the purse, but didn't bother to verify its contents; with *him*, it wasn't necessary. She finished her second drink, wiped her slightly numb mouth with the back of her hand. She was beginning to feel pleasantly tingly. "All right. Y'all ready, Mitch?" Abruptly she leaned over and planted a long, wet, thorough kiss on Mitchell's mouth. Later, she'd decide it was sort of a show of resistence. She probably looked like a drunked fool, but at least *she* had made the choice. <><><><><> Mystery: Mitchell returns the kiss, surprised, eyebrows raised. He grins and winks. "I'm ready. I've played the superhero part, might as well go for villain for a while." He sighs. *I just wish it were on our own.* He downs the Jack Daniels shot. "I guess I can always regenerate my liver," he quips, and selects ID for a fairly handsome man, dark haired, tall, good build. <><><><><> Tyler: "Yeah. Well, ah reckon we're out o' here." She picked the spot she remembered clearly: the bus depot, off 6th between Main and Maple, central Los Angeles. Taking up Mitchell's hand, she finished her last drink in one swallow, then concentrated on opening The Door. "Nobody'll notice us here, Mitch. Hell, there're weirder people than us sleepin' in the phone booths." <><><><><> [GM] Tyler feels a strange combination of the new and the unknown and deja vu. She knows she's done this before, but she can't actually recall a specific instance. But concentrating on the spot she remembers, the bus depot in Central L.A., she holds her hand- -and a shimmering portal appears, seemingly identical to the ones through which she pulled her horse, the 4x4 from hell, and the Lucretia- slaying super-machine gun that came with a Chinese instruction manual. Not surprisingly, Mitchell is a little hesitant about stepping through, but Tyler takes his wrist, and with a final nod to the Puppet Master, who watches the portal opening in his living room without apparent reaction, she steps through, pulling Mitchell with her. An instant later, they step out into the late afternoon heat of Los Angeles. A grimy LA transit bus is pulling away with a smokey rumble. A black man in a dashiki is arguing with a scraggly homeless man, while nearby, an old lady pushes a shopping cart full of groceries along the sidewalk, past a pair of kids who are skateboarding up and down the curbs. All stop to stare at you briefly, while the glowing odd-colored portal recedes to a pinpoint and disappears. They move uneasily away from you, muttering, except for the two kids. "Hey, cool! Are you guys superheroes?" Tyler clutches the purse that the Puppet Master gave her, and can't help feeling a touch of smugness, as she looks at all the miserable lowlives. Her powers set her apart, and an unfamiliar feeling of superiority sparks a bit of contempt for the mere mortals around her. <><><><><> Tyler: Tyler ignored the kids, pulling her Serengetis from one pocket and a pack of Winstons from the other. She paused to light up, pushing the dark glasses onto her face with exaggerated care. When she exhaled, it was right in the kids' faces. "F*** off." She glanced briefly at Mitchell, feeling a little uneasy about the last bit of dialogue. It was right, but somehow not right. But...Hell, that was sort of the way she felt about this whole deal. She shrugged. "Why don' y'all shag us a cab, sugah. Company money ain't quite up to the Beverly Hilton, so le's jus' get one o' th' suites on La Cienaga." <><><><><> Mystery: Mitchell stares, stunned, at the curious teens and the frightened adults, as a quiet realization dawns in his mind. Until now, he had contemplated only the glamourous aspects of essentially being a superhero or supervillain. Now the rest was beginning to sink in. The glass wall, ever present, of being different -- on a level of celebrity status with some, and freak status with others. *All right. Villain it is, then,* he decides. *For a while, at least. I suppose I can always change my identity again.* A wry smile touches his lips, as the performer in him rises to the new challenge. His manner becomes cool in contrast to Tyler's, and he gazes at the teens. "Try drinking toxic waste. You might develop powers, too," Mitchell idly comments. "And to think, the environmentalists were worried that it was *bad* for us!" he chuckles slightly, and goes in search of a cab. <><><><><> [GM] "Aww, piss off!" one of the kids replies angrily, but the other, sensing a possible genuine threat, looks frightened and shoves his friend. The two of them go skating away. Mitchell has no trouble grabbing a cab; the first one to pass by slams on the brakes, as the teenager sends waves of attraction radiating out from himself, and a black cabbie wearing a red T-shirt and gold earring smiles more warmly at Mitchell than at Tyler as the two of you get in. He takes you to a decent, though not extravagant, motel, while Tyler, sitting next to Mitchell, feels increasing heat from his presence, and that invisible allure surrounding him almost makes her want to start necking right in the back of the cab. <><><><><> Tyler: On their way into the lobby, Tyler stopped Mitchell for a moment to talk. "Y'all're gonna have to get that allure under control," she warned. "Else we won't ever get out of the room..." she rested her palms lightly on his chest. His head filled with the faint, rich scent of Shalimar, as she raked her nails lightly down to his belly, then tugged sharply once at his belt. "Know what ah mean?" She sighed, patted his chest, wheeled, and headed for registration. Once they were in the room, she prowled for a few minutes, acclimating herself to the site's doors, windows and facilities, then settled on the end of the bed. "We're gonna need some more clothes, toiletries, that kind of thing, dependin' on how long we're stuck here." She began to examine the contents of the purse the Puppet Master had given her. Without looking up, she went on, "Guess we need to do a little research 'fore we call in. Try and track down Christine." She felt a little twinge in the pit of her stomach. She didn't like this, much. <><><><><> --- Mitchell --- Mitchell's eyes glaze over slightly at Tyler's actions. Clearing his mind, he grins. "I cannot turn off the allure. It's a permanently active aura, I found out. I can turn it up to such a degree as to reduce nearly everyone near me to hormone-flooded worshipers, but can't decrease it from this level." "It's useful considering the mimic talent. You know, I can actually emulate the powers of someone I copy? Not just the form. When I drain Crystal and take on her powers and form, I will have all the powers she has, plus access to my own in emergencies by switching back." "Unfortunately, when I switch back, I lose the genetic pattern and cannot assume the form with powers again without touching the person again." In the suite, Mitchell goes to the bathroom mirror and fine tunes his appearance according to the photo identification, then wanders back into the room with Tyler, thinking. "The best place to start in finding out where to contact Crystal, is probably either the telephone book, or the largest television station in the area." He picks up the telephone book, and tries the television stations first, inquiring into how to contact Crystal, or her agent. <><><><><> Tyler: Tyler went to the lobby and bought a newspaper, on the outside chance that something was happening involving Crystal that might make some section of the huge L.A. daily. Besides, she needed a break from the incessant pressure to jump Mitchell. There was no way around it; if they were this close, she was going to have to do something about it. She considered involving the desk clerk in conversation, and trying to drag the subject off onto what Crystal was doing, but there was no guarantee he'd know, and she didn't want to call anyone's attention to their activities. Instead she heqaded back to the room, taking a few deep breaths before wading back into Mitchell's presence. [Is he looking like Crystal now, or like "Tyler's boyfriend? Is he practicing duplicating the look, etc.? Does he switch back and forth?] <><><><><> --- Mitchell --- Mitchell glances up at Tyler as she returns, while he continues the effort at tracking down Crystal by telephone. He continues to wear the body of a man from one of the photo id's the puppet master provided as an option for Tyler's boyfriend. During a pause in the calls, he explains, "I guess I'd better tell you the rest of my abilities, so we know what one another can do. I can touch any human or metahuman and mimic their appearance and abilities perfectly. I don't absorb the learned skills or memories, though. I can stay in the form as long as I like, indefinitely if need be, then switch out." "In my natural form, I can fly at around thirty miles per hour, use telekinesis to lift about thirty pounds, deflect a bullet...but not a swarm of them, and not if I'm caught by surprise...and I can improvise forms by imagination. But not improvise powers by imagination. When I mimic a metahuman, I drain some of their strength, too, making them weaker while I gain their powers, genetics and such." He pauses, thinking. "I can heal non-mutants, too. I can regenerate myself, but only if I'm conscious...so if I'm ever wounded, find some way to wake me up quickly. I got a hole blown clear through my chest while I was in a child form, a while ago, and survived it...barely." "I can touch a non-mutant and change them however I want to, though I need to practice that more. Then, there is the Desire aura." He grins sheepishly. "It's kind of like a sexual thermonuclear blast, when on full." <><><><><> --- Tyler --- Tyler shed her boots and flopped on the bed with the newspaper, studying Mitchell thoughtfully. "That's a pretty damn impressive package, Jack. Let me see...y'all can heal normals, but not...whattayacallit, metas, right? And y'all can mimic anybody after you touch 'em...including their skills? But when you shift out, you lose what y'all soaked up." She thumbed through the paper idly. "Ah was wonderin'...was y'all's natural form what ah saw first off, when we met? Y'all can't do all that trick s*** when you're borrowin' somebody else's shape?" She rolled on her back, eyes closed, fingers laced behind her head. "Gonna have to convince Crystal to come on back with me. Maybe ah can bulls*** her, maybe ah'm gonna have to make her. Ain't very nice, either way." She shivered slightly at some inner thought, though her eyes remained closed. <><><><><> --- Mitchell --- "No, not their skills or memories, just their powers. I could mimic your summoning power, by becoming you. I wouldn't know how to ride a horse though, for example." "Right, when I switch back from a form, I lose the genetic code and would have to reabsorb it again directly from the mutant, in order to gain the powers again. Though, I can learn any human form after some practice. Also, I found out that I can say, pick up a hair or nail clipping, and assume the form from it...but not powers. Just basic human biology." "This is my birth genetics form," Mitchell says, and shifts smoothly into a 6' 1" tall teenage boy of roughly sixteen years in age, with medium length dark brownish black hair, stormy grey eyes, refined features of the variety better described as pretty than handsome, with an exotic ethnic background evident, leaning heavily toward american indian, and spanish. A reddish highlight in the brown of his hair suggests possible irish ancestry as well. Though not muscular, he gives the impression of agility. "A little while after we parted, I wore this form for, I guess it was about a week or two. I'm not really sure." Mitchell shifts, collapsing into a slender american indian girl with long raven black hair, striking green eyes, and a well proportioned, though ample figure. "I was making a mess of my internal organs until I discovered that I could just concentrate on the genetic code and swap out the Y for another X. From then on, it's worked perfectly. The same with age." She sighs. "I think I'll spend about a month in a second childhood for a vacation one day. I need it. Nothing but Saturday morning cartoons, movies, popcorn, and candy. With none of the old chores -- I regenerate, so I don't even have to brush my teeth." She giggles, then shifts back to the made up identification of Tyler's boyfriend, straightening his clothing a bit after the size changes, and plopping down to continue the calls. "Anyway, I can't fly or use telekinesis or deflect a bullet when using someone else's shape. I can still emit the seduction aura, though, and regenerate, heal, and transform non-mutants. Those I can all do while I'm bioshifted." He leans back, thoughtful. "Crystal has no reason to suspect either one of us. It will be easy. When the time comes, I could just ask to mimic her powers as a demonstration. Then you can open a gate to Puppet Master, and I can shove her through before she can turn crystaline. I'll say she has to be in her base form for me to be successful." "Incidentally, mind if I borrow your power for a moment? I'd like to try something. It's nothing against Puppet Master at all," he adds. "It may be a little draining for a moment, though." <><><><><> Tyler: Tyler soaked up all of Mitchell's ideas and analysis without visible reaction. "Nope, ah don' mind if you do, 'cept ah ain't too keen on seein' another me around, you know what ah'm sayin'? And your capture idea *sounds* slicker'n greased baby s***, but ah ain't takin' chances. I figure, if she's in normal form, she'll pay attention if ah point a gun at her. An' if she's in crystalline form, she'll pay attention if ah point somethin' that does some serious damage to crystalline structures. Like..." She concentrated on the nastiest ultrasonic hand weapon she could imagine, and held out her hand as if expecting it to drop from the sky. <><><><><> [GM] One of those spinning, indescribably-colored portals opens in the air above Tyler's hand, and a large, bulky apparatus with a heavy pistol grip and a flaring muzzle drops into her hand. It's about the size of a sawed- off shotgun, but weighs more. There is nothing that looks like a sighting device on it, and it's hard to tell where any ammunition or power pack might be inserted. [The Puppet Master said he'd contact you with further information, btw. You don't have to go looking for Crystal. You just have to call the number he planted in your minds, in about a day.] <><><><><> Tyler: "Bingo," Tyler commented. "Ah need to test it out on somethin' crystalline, and...maybe...on somethin' livin', so's ah know whether ah need more hardware or not. She shoved the weapon in her purse, where it made a bad fit. "Now then, what-all do ah have to do, so's y'all can dupe me?" <><><><><> --- Mitchell --- "Just hold my hand a moment...and, kind of brace yourself; I think the energy drain effect varies from person to person. Most don't even flinch, but one who was very injured fainted. But she had a concussion and had just been through a really major battle...with Puppet Master." He holds out his hand, and if Tyler still does not mind the borrowing, despite the warning, he does a full mimic as gently as possible. <><><><><> [GM] Mitchell takes Tyler's hand, and his flesh starts to morph. In seconds, he is a perfect duplicate of Tyler, although once again wearing ill-fitting clothes, which do not change with him. Tyler does feel a momentary rush, but after leaning against Mystery for a moment, regains her equilibrium. Interestingly, the attraction effect is still strong, though the sexual draw is not as great. Tyler notes ironically that Mitchell, wearing her body, looks identical yet seems infinitely more glamorous and beautiful than she ever did. <><><><><> Mystery: Mystery wanders over to a clear space in the room, and contemplates the possibilities. "There are a few things I've been needing pretty desperately since all this started -- now more than ever. I didn't want to ask you to try and summon them up, because I saw how draining summoning was for you. A lot more than being mimicked, I figure." "Okay, now...assuming this power works on the parallel worlds concept from quantum mechanics -- most of which I know through Star Trek and some book by Nick Herbert, not serious studies -- then there are probably an infinite number of universes, neighbors to this one, and compatible in physics. Lets assume you can only summon items from compatible universes. Further, lets say there has to be some chance of something existing, somewhere, and it being brought to Earth or developed on it. You didn't get a tractor trailer rig suitable for people with six legs and nine eyes, you got one from a world where you exist. You didn't get phasers, because the physics behind them, as portrayed in Star Trek, is pure hooey. Now, a weapon that can make objects glow and disappear, that is probably possible. But something called a 'phaser' probably isn't. Or else it never wound up being called that, anyway." "We're together in this universe, and so we probably are in others. Which means we have access to one another's equipment, ideas, and such. So, regardless of whether the power grabs things that are in your reach specifically in various universes, or just random items from worlds in which you exist, you should be near some possessions and acquisitions of mine, past, present, and future...since events likely happen at different rates in different worlds." Mystery nods, thoughtfully, the theory firming up. "So, things I would be interested in getting, would be near you too...and that's assuming the power only gets things near you, and not me too now that I have the power too. Either way, while using this power, I can get things I would be likely to be near, by choice, quest, or accident. Whew. I always did hate quantum physics thinking. Twists the mind into weird shapes. " "Now for the big test. Some things useful in this mission, and in general to me...things I've been thinking about trying to track down, and probably have encountered in some universe or another." Gazing at the cleared space, holding hands out at the area to further back up the mental indicator of where the items should be put down by the portal, Mystery concentrates. First, Mystery concentrates on summoning several changes of a costume design Mystery thought of earlier, but never had time to have made: A full body costume fashioned of a very lightweight, comfortable, _very_ stretchy, form-fitting fabric of faintly metallic, sparkly sheen similar to some of the high tech swimsuit materials; the primary colour, a pleasant metallic red; the neckline in a plunging V providing an attractive view of chest in male forms and nearly illegal view of bust in female forms. The costume, designed to mold to fit even the x-rated measurements frequently used. The cuffs, ankles, and neckline possessing a silvery fabric trim. Below the V neckline, a smooth gradient cusp design in black, with a futuristic silver M in it. A silver stretch belt merely for looks, and a red silk cape with the words Mystery Desire in stylish silver thread cursive script. Then, a pair of very stretchy high red boots with soft soles. *I've got to find a way to permanently change my base form,* Mystery thinks for the hundredth time, the thought firming up. *How easily the justice department or whatever tracked down my parents underscores that fact nicely.* *Bad enough they know...I need to be able to use my flight more, but can't keep appearing in public in my old birth genetics form. No telling what kind of missions I will have to do using flight, for Puppet Master. To do them properly, I have to find a way.* Mystery sighs, considering how to summon something to allow it. *Too important not to do.* The idea unnerves Mystery a bit. *Not to mention, I sure don't want to be recognized by my parents, while being a villain. They would have the whole northern hemisphere out looking for me!* Once the costume acquisition attempt is completed, Mystery concentrates on summoning a safe, effective, no-adverse-side-effects device or closed vial of chemical, complete with instructions and all necessary cautions and advisements in english, that can be easily used by Mystery to make a designed/shapeshifted form and biology become the permanent 'natural' form from which Mystery shifts to others, replacing the Mitchell body/biology that currently holds that base form role. If at first he does not succeed, he tries repeatedly, with variations of mental specifications, including if necessary 'only works once', or changing it to 'temporary side effects only'. <><><><><> Tyler: "Hell. Ain't it pathetic when y'all do *me* better'n me?" Tyler chuckled, a little hollowly. "Feels like ah want t'go barrel racin', jus' so ah can feel superior to m'self." She had a queasy flash of both lust and repulsion, which she shook off with a visible shudder. "Nevah mind...it prob'ly be too much like masturbation." Tyler leaned forward, feet on the floor, chin cupped in her hand in the classic thinker pose, contemplating Mystery as Tyler. "This is too weird," she noted. "It's almost like watchin' a home video." He/she was having a little movement trouble, maybe from the balance change, and maybe because her rehabilitation, long and brutal, had left her with that virtually invisible hitch in her springy stride. *She* had adjusted; but she had lived through it, experienced every tortuous moment of conscious and subconscious movement adjustments, strained to suppress the pain, cursed and sweated and worked dogged hours to return to normal. The effect wasn't invisible from the *inside*. Idly, she wondered if he had the same...*cravings* as she did. She shook out a smoke. <><><><><> [GM] Mystery/Tyler opens a shimmering disk, through which falls a glittering red swimsuit, of a one-piece but VERY skimpy design. Tyler finds herself hoping that Mystery doesn't intend to put it on in public while wearing HER body. The suit is followed by a red cape and red boots. The cape has a familiar yellow "S" logo on it, and the boots look several sizes too large for Tyler, or even Mitchell. Mystery looks frustrated, and keeps trying, soon accumulating a small pile of really outrageous garments, none of which exactly match what he was aiming for, though some of them would probably serve, with some modifications. Finally, he concentrates on the second object of his desire. A glass vial plops onto the bed. It's a small sealed tube, with a dark green liquid inside, and yellow sticker with a geometric black emblem of some sort that neither Tyler nor Mystery recognizes. Mystery feels a little fatigued after all this, though not extremely so. <><><><><> Tyler: "Y'all are disgusting," Tyler said, gingerly examining the swim suit. She suppressed a brief ironic grin. "Mah sleaziest French underwear covers more of mah butt than this. What's supposed to be in the bottle?" <><><><><> --- Mystery --- "Hey, I even do *me* better than me. It's a part of the power." she winks. "Besides, I kind of like it better on you, anyway." Mystery looks askance at Tyler, grinning. "I wasn't *trying* for a swimsuit, you know. I was trying to summon up a stretchy costume, so my clothes are not constantly falling off, squeezing me painfully, or something of the sort." She holds up the red swimsuit. "Oh well. I can probably cobble together something from this stuff. With a little effort. Some might come in handy anyway, I guess." She does a doubletake. "You, wearing sleazy french underwear...hmm...noted." A mischievous twinkle in eyes. "The bottle is supposed to be a little item of biochemistry for letting me shapeshift into a form, then make it into my 'base' form. I can't risk flying or using telekinesis much right now, because I don't want to endanger my parents by being seen in public with my own identity. So, I have to 'naturalize' a shapeshift form for the purposes of it. First though, I've got to get better instructions to verify what this is..." "In some universe where I have this, whether by summoning or acquisition from aliens or a laboratory or pharmacy, I will use it immediately after acquiring it -- now in fact, instead of talking about it -- and then test to make certain it worked properly and had no serious side effects. In several of the universes at least, I will write down the results in detail, and title the page 'Mystery Desire Naturalization Formula Usage', and draw this bottle's symbol at the bottom, after writing down details on how I was supposed to use it, how I acquired it, how I used it, and what the results were. I know that will happen in some universe, since if this does not work, I will just risk it in a few minutes, and do the same documentation of it. Also, if I did not survive it, I would want you to do the documentation, for the benefit of someone in another universe at least, or in case I need help. I've got to protect my parents. Its worth the risk." "But, lets see if I can get a sneak peek from a universe where I used it a moment ago..." Mystery pads the bottle in swimsuits on the bed, and looks back to the cleared area, concentrating on summoning the planned results description paper, with the bottle's symbol on it and the title, as planned for writing a few minutes after using it. <><><><><> [GM] A perfect-bound computer printout flutters out of another rent in space- time, and it seems to be printed in English, rather than Chinese or Croation or Martian... But Mystery still can't make much sense out of it. The title is "Series 314 procedures 4.1-5.9" followed by even more techno-babble. Flipping through it, Mystery recognizes a few terms, like "mutagen", "DNA code-alteration" and "induced paralysis of all involuntary metabolic functions in 94% of test subjects", but mostly it's filled with charts and formulas and incredibly obfuscatory language that would probably require a Ph.D. in chemistry and/or genetics to decipher. The author is listed as one "Dr. Marlon Salta", and it was printed by "Biochem Unit 13, Section 4A, Dept. of Genetics and Biological Engineering, RMCU, 061194" <><><><><> Mystery: "Arrrrgh!" Mystery groans, paging through the manual, then putting it aside with the vial, frustrated beyond words. Suddenly Mystery realizes the actual key, and on impulse, concentrates on summoning a self that has already found out how to make a shapeshift designed form into the base form safely. <><><><><> [GM] You find the effort extremely draining, as your (unfamiliar) powers put a great strain on your concentration. The air ripples and distorts, but nothing comes out. <><><><><> Mystery: Mystery sits back, exhausted. "Well, that's all I'm trying for now I guess. Thank you for letting me mimic you...I would return the favor, but I probably can't shapechange other metahumans. Yet, anyway." He considers. "Want me to try and regenerate that knee, though, in a few minutes? It hasn't worked on other metahumans -- there is some kind of resistance...but it might work. I don't know." Mystery returns to the created Tyler boyfriend form, and picks up the telephone book, looking for the number of a local university. "I think I'll check and see if this Marlon Saltas exists in this universe." <><><><><> Tyler: Tyler shuddered at the thought of "returning the favor." "No thanks. Ah'm happy. And what happens when y'all try that...ummm, that regeneration? Ah don't want to make things any worse'n they are. Ah worked too hard to get where ah got." The damned aura was harder to ignore than she'd imagined. Tyler found herself wanting to walk up behind him, put her hands on him... "Let's go get a drink," she blurted. "Ah think ah'm gonna need a few." [ooc for Amadan: we know we don't have to do anything except call in, but we sort of wanted to get an edge, get some data base, by finding Crystal. Have a little info in hand, so to speak. That's why the newspaper/phone calls.] <><><><><> [GM] Mystery doesn't find a listing for a "Marlon Saltas" in the L.A. directory. There doesn't seem to be any recent news about Christine Tallin. The most prominent local news concerns a bombing at a Hollywood apartment yesterday, which apparently killed a professional photographer. You also hear of Paladin's atomic assassination, and an earth-controlling metahuman who is threatening to destroy Seattle. Christine Tallin isn't listed in the directory either (no surprise.) And there's no metahuman news in L.A., though the mysterious "Wraith" did stop another holdup in Long Beach a few days ago. <><><><><> [GM] [apparently, I'm going to have to run Mystery as an NPC again] Mitchell grins. "A drink? Well, technically I'm underage, but obviously that doesn't matter much anymore, does it? I guess being charged with contributing to the delinquency of a minor is the least of your concerns." He winks at you as you head down together to the hotel bar. <><><><><> Tyler: The hotel bar was typical: dark, fountained, a brass-and-tropical motif without too much overt plastic. Tyler didn't care. She slid into a booth and signalled a waiter. "Jack Black," she said. "A double. And ice water by. Whatever he wants. Run a tab, please." <><><><><> Mystery --- Mystery, flexing the unfamiliar facial muscles of the form, smiles slightly, considering. "A rum, double, nothing added," he requests. Then aside to Tyler, after the waiter leaves, "I had a few tablespoons once. I've always avoided alcohol, but I admit, I could grow to like rum." He sighs, thinking. "Tonight I think I'll use a little free time to go explore. I haven't spent much time at semi-liberty since...well, the developments, you know? Might as well discretely make the most of the afternoon and night. No telling how long we'll be working on the problem at hand after today." <><><><><> Tyler: Tyler's mouth quirked in a half-smile. She swirled the amber whiskey gently, then tossed half of it down with practiced ease. "Explore? Y'all mean 'pub crawl', 'visit a museum', 'get laid', or what? There's a few ol' bars ah...frequented when ah made the shows out here. Might not mind seein' one o' them. Ah 'member singin' in one ol' dance hall. That u's back when..." She frowned, her eyes glazing distantly, then shrugged. "Ne'er mind. Was a long time ago." She concentrated on her drink. <><><><><> Mystery --- "You sing?" Mystery asks, mildly surprised but obviously pleasantly so, accepting the rum when it arrives, sipping cautiously at first. "I'm not much into pub crawling, or getting laid for that matter after that initial, um, 'surprise', but maybe one with an amateur stage? We could perform together, something simple, then possibly a walk along the beach, after its dark." Sipping rum slowly, he winks, trying to cheer Tyler up from whatever memory made her eyes glaze. "Fresh salt air, then maybe a quick tour of the city. I've only been here a couple of times, myself." <><><><><> Tyler: "Yeah. Sang for money, with a good band. Play the guitar, too," Tyler drawled. "Ah'm jus' chock-full of surprises." She downed the rest of her Jack Daniels, andwater sat there, slowly melting. "Darlin', *everybody's* into getting laid. You musta had one hell of a bad experience, if your first time turned you off like that. Thanks," she nodded to the waiter, when he deposited her second drink. "But ah respect your privacy. Y'all don't have to tell me *nothin'* about it, 'less y'want to...?" The concession sounded a lot more like a question, and she did grin slightly. "After all, confession is good for the soul, right? Maybe ah can offer...you know...pointers." She took large swallow of the whiskey, savored it momentarily, then let it roll down the back of her throat. "Anyway...as far as singin' goes, ah don' know. Exactly how much country music do y'all know? Ah hate to sound prejudiced, but y'all looked like New Wave, Generation X or whatever the hell they call y'all when we first met. More into pierced noses, Edie Brickell and that s***, not Rosanne Cash or Patsy Cline." <><><><><> Mystery --- Mystery takes a longer than usual sip of his rum, eyes rolling a moment at some ludicrous memory. "Pointers...okay, I'll accept some. How do you handle the situation of meeting a really cute girl, falling deeply into teen lust, running off to a friend's house, deciding clothing is optional and physical contact is a definite go, then winding up wearing her body, and staring down at an unconscious version of yourself?" he inquires wryly, grinning. "Oh," he whispers, "its not the turning into a girl that bothered me. I've done that plenty of times since then. I spent about a week in that american indian girl form I showed you in the hotel, interrupted only for occasional testing of my abilities. Eating, sleeping, waking and living in it without trouble. No, whatever caused me to become how I am lets me be very pleased with widely differing forms. I actually think I liked sleeping in that form better than I do my original, for some reason." "Particularly since I learned how to make forms other than bad x-rated cartoon ones," he adds with a slight chuckle, remembering early antics. "Though, they come in useful occasionally too," he adds, grinning wider. "Compliments the seduction bit nicely, sometimes." He sips thoughtfully. "No, the problem is that I'm a shapeshifter through and through now. My hormones switch modes as easily as my brain structure, genetics, and body." His eyes turn serious, reflective. He drains the glass of rum, setting it down. "That's the trouble. My brain structure may swap out, but the contents of my mind do not. I've absorbed the desires of _both_ types of forms. How is _that_ for confusing?" The wry grin returns. "So I've been keeping my mind off it as much as possible...because it was tough enough to have _one_ set of raging hormones and bodily desires to contend with. Now I've got two, and both demanding attention loudly." "Wonder if I can do neuter," he mutters, with a small laugh. Sighing, he skids his glass back and forth between thumb and forefinger a moment, then brightens. "I'll have you know I'm full of surprises too. I know some of the more popular Patsy Cline songs. Actually, rock, and old nightclub songs from the 40's and 50's are my favorites to perform. But I like Cline too." "Pierced noses? Awful. You might not guess it, but I play flute, too. Very well, in fact." He blinks, a bit dazed at a thought. Then his smile turns wicked. "If I can find a photo album cover, I can do one heck of a Patsy Cline now," he quips. <><><><><> Tyler: Tyler shook her head slowly at Mitchell's revelations. "Y'all got a real problem there, Jack." She started to speak, hesitated, started again, then was actually momentarily dumbfounded. "Y'know, ah hadn't ever been much of a talker, 'less ah get a few drinks under m'belt and get with friends. AH feel like ah ought to say somethin' wise or comfortin', and..." she shrugged, and smiled painfully. "Ah don't know if ah could handle what you're goin' through. It makes me queasy to think about it, y'know? Ah s'pect it'd be worse, if we were doin' it, and you all of a sudden changed into Rory Calhoun or..." she shuddered, "...worse, Dolly Parton. Brrrr!" She finished her second drink in rapid swallows. "Now...even takin' that...whattayacallit: allure, aura, whatever, into consideration, ah thought you were pretty damn cute when we met. Y'all ain't bad now," she noted, "don't get me wrong, but ah liked the original. Call me a cradle-robber, hell. Ah don't suppose ah'd complain, either, if y'all wished up a big ol' X-rated dick. But ah don't guess ah'm as liberated as ah pretend. The rest is too weird for me. Sorry." Her cheeks were beginning to glow with a faint flush; the alcohol was having its inevitable effect. She waved down the waiter, and went for a third. "Sorry. Ah liked the original. You're a pretty tough guy, Mitch, dealin' with all this. Ah guess mah talent doesn't require quite the psychological stretch, you know? It's like...curiosity and revulsion, all rolled up. Kinda like the way ah felt about kinky sex when ah was a kid." <><><><><> Mystery --- Mystery solemnly nods. "You're right. Your talent is just a useful add- on to your abilities. True, once it would have been considered a godlike ability, but still...you're still fundementally _you_. Mine...it redefined who I am. No, that's not right -- it _undefined_ who I am." He orders and slowly drinks a glass of icewater, letting it cool the path seared down his throat by the rum, deciding to forego further alcohol, and laughs suddenly. "Sorry -- just that Dolly Parton image. Yeah, that's a sure way to spread the trauma around real quick." Reaching out gently, he gives her hand a quick squeeze. "Liberated or not, you're a good friend, companion, and partner. That means a lot. I don't know if I would have gotten through those first few days alive without you, much less with my sanity intact. Well, as intact as it is, anyway." He winks. <><><><><> Tyler: "Y'all seem better adjusted n'me," Tyler said. "Ah still can't get used to pullin' s*** out of the sky, and ah would sure as hell like to know where it comes from, and how, and maybe most of all...*why*. Why me, why not somebody else..." She fished a smoke from her purse and lit up, French rolling the first fragrant exhalation. "Ah suppose," she went on, "a real pal would get into the body-shiftin' mode with you, but..." she rubbed one denim-clad leg, "...busted up or not, ah guess ah'm kinda used to what ah got. Y'all just gonna have to settle for tea and sympathy, ah reckon." She examined her nails carefully, the ash on her Marlboro growing dangerously long. "Ah guess ah wouldn't mind that trip to the beach, y'all still want to. We could rent a car and drive out, or ah could..." she looked slightly quizzical, "...what would you call that trick? Zap us out? *Shift* us out, ah guess. Ah know a few places on the water...Rancho Palos Verdes, but it was crowded. Crystal Cove and Corona del Mar weren't too bad, and ah *could* shoot us down to San Diego, do some whale watchin' off the Naval Reservation. Y'all still got that so-called bathin' suit?" <><><><><> Mystery --- "Tea and sympathy is good. Sure, lets do the beach. Crystal Cove sounds kind of ironic, but good. We'd better stick around this general area, anyway, and stick to waterfun, sunbathing, and people watching. Might as well shift or gate us out to save afternoon sun, I suppose, after we pick up swimwear. Its still back at the hotel room, but there's one heck of a pile of it. All womenswear, mostly goretex swimsuits, and mostly in megabust sizes like that red one -- guess some of my alternate world selves tend toward showsoffs on the beach, too -- but I think I saw one that would fit you fine, too." Mystery spins his glass a moment, then stands. "Lets go get some sun. We're young, strange, and at liberty for a little while. Might as well see where the day takes us." He angles his head, grinning. "I think that was a movie title." <><><><><> --- Tyler --- Tyler was agreeable to that proposition; only since her injury had she managed much recreational sun; most of her pre-injury exposure was while working horses or minding her ranch. However, the accident had generated a lot of rehab time in pools and running; she was adequately dark, despite the dusting of freckles across her nose and shoulders. SHe paid their tab and left a generous tip, then amicably followed Mitchell back to their room. <><><><><> --- Mystery --- Once in the hotel room, Mystery turns on the television to catch up on the news a bit while stashing the odd formula vial and instruction book in the desk drawer, then rummages through the formidible pile of garments, laying out a couple closer to Tyler's size and coverage tastes. Taking the outrageously low cut and designed metallic red swimsuit, Mystery holds it up, looking with a bit of mock dismay at the bust size it was designed for. "Must've been traumatized by that night in quite a few universes, by the looks of these." "Well, I guess I'm not going to be in any danger of sinking if I go for a swim," he comments wryly, grinning. "More danger of taking off and drifting away, I think." Slinging the swimsuit over a shoulder he wanders into the bathroom, closing the door. Once in the bathroom, Mystery closes the door, removes his clothing and goes to the mirror, then shifts into Mitchell form, holding up the swimsuit, considering its size. After a moment, he lays it down and gazes into the mirror, working in stages. First, concentrating on switching genetic code and form to female; then, after a moment of contemplating the red of the suit, on switching genetics to a blend of nordic and irish, with long, thick, wavy, high sheen reddish golden hair, striking green eyes, and fair skin. Then, slipping into the swimsuit, Mystery adjusts height to around 5' 6" to fit the suit, and pauses a moment, thinking, as a sudden gripping sensation enters her stomach. *Stop fooling yourself, Mystery. You're not going to the beach for sun alone. Tyler's right, everybody including you is interested in getting laid, and the temptation is too great to resist. And with this seduction power, you have an entire world of potential for choosing who your first time is with...not to mention other options, you've already decided on.* *If I'm going to do this, I'm going to do it spectacularly, too,* she decides, removing the swimsuit and staring into the mirror again, turning slightly, then concentrating on adjustments to the genetic code as done twice before, removing all even natural masculine traits to achieve that ethereal, human yet too refined for human look first created in Miguel, with body hair becoming short, soft, clear, childlike in nature, as muscles decrease and form rounds out in seductive ways. Next Mystery concentrates on enhancing feminine traits and secondary sex characteristics drastically, to almost but not quite medical oddity levels; definite playboy magazine and tabloid material, however. She hesitates a moment afterward, studying the body and adjusting where needed to enhance seductiveness and beauty, making the curves blend together smoothly and well for greatest nymphlike attractiveness. A hesitation as sudden fear overcomes her. *Do I really want to try the next step?* A slow exhalation. *Might as well.* Throwing caution to the winds, Mystery gazes into the mirror, concentrating on increasing all genetic and physical sexual functions, including genetic factors affecting arousal, desire, sexuality and reproduction in general, to absolute maximum; nymphomaniac levels and beyond, set in biologically and neurologically, with ramped up sensitivity. As an added spark for the thrill of danger, she concentrates on genetic and cycle reproductive fertility being at maximum. *A little thrill of danger to spice things up.* Finally, Mystery concentrates on her skin having a light, but rich golden suntan to compliment the reddish golden hair. Slipping back into the swimsuit, Mystery opens the door and walks back out of the bathroom, after ramping up the desire aura level just very slightly. <><><><><> [GM] After a few minutes, Mitchell emerges from the bathroom. Tyler almost swallows her cigarette. The teenager has become a super-voluptuous, airbushed Playboy fantasy centerfold, a hyper-endowed Frank Frazetta maiden come to life. She wiggles and jiggles her way across the room with almost obscene seductiveness. And Tyler, to her great discomfort, finds herself vaguely attracted to Mystery, even in this form. <><><><><> Mystery: Moving fluidly, Mystery walks into the room in the metallic red swimsuit filling it out quite well, and wraps a bath towel about herself, leaning against a wall. Her hair is a rich reddish golden hue, spilling down over shoulders with skin of a light golden tan; striking green eyes gaze radiantly from an almost inhumanly refined face. Her features are very seductive, but moreover from Mystery's expression, it is evident there is more to it than a purely physical change; the ultimate beach bunny body supports eyes and an expression revealing a mind evidently shifted into a state of nymphomania that is, if anything, much more extreme than the body. "You're right," she whispers, in a soft voice, tapping fingertips on the desk next to which she stands, as she waits. "Everyone is interested in getting laid. I've been holding back far too long as it is, and its starting to come out in my shapeshifting, even. Its affecting me...severely. I've been wondering when it would, what with my desire aura and all...Mystery Desire is a very good name for me -- and that part of my nature is taking over." "Nature, or whatever has given us these powers, has made me into many things; a Doppleganger, a Mutant -- but most of all, Desire incarnate. It is no accident that is the one power I have that is ever- present, I'm finding out." "You're right, too, to refrain from being altered. It's scary." Her green eyes blaze with an obviously almost unbearably intense sexuality. Leaning away from the wall, she walks over to watch television, giving Tyler time to change, while she stares down at the television screen, seemingly made of lust. <><><><><> --- Tyler --- "Hell, y'all don't sound like any kid *ah* ever knew." Tyler shifted uncomfortably in the presence of the Titian-haired voluptuary. "Don't look like one, either. Pardon me if it sounds like ah'm carpin', but you're showin' an awful fascination with hyper-endowed female forms. "Personally, ah'm kinda...uncomfortable. And ah don't mind sayin' so. If y'all can't focus that allure on someone else, maybe ah'll just take a pass on the field trip. Ah guess y'all do what you got to do, but *ah* ain't interested in testin' my adherence to a heterosexual life style." She picked glumly through the swim suits; the one she set aside in her size was a purple bikini with a string bottom and a shirred bandeau top that looked more like something from Victoria's Secret lingerie section. "Ah ain't no water baby, anyway," she said. <><><><><> --- Mystery --- "My status as a kid is variable," Mystery whispers, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "In Chicago, I almost died as an eight year old black girl. Someone pulled the trigger on a shotgun and blew a wide hole through my chest. You wouldn't have needed an x-ray to see my heart, what was left of my lungs, and my ribs. Nor x-ray vision to read a book placed behind me." Her eyes grow misty a moment, as she gazes into the imagined distance. "Do you know what it is like to have to regenerate that kind of damage? It feels like a blow torch pressed against every cell. It feels like a burn victim being doused with lit napalm and salt must feel." Mystery levels the fantasy girl eyes on Tyler's, haunted by more than lust now. "You have a power. A Talent. There are plenty of people with Talents, now. You're not alone." "I'm alone. Unless I count Legion, and a relationship with Legion seems to be close, but kind of restricting." Mystery wanders across the room to lean on the far side. "I'm not focusing anything on you. My aura is like radiation, in all directions, and it doesn't shut off, ever. If I were to raise it, without even straining, you would suddenly be a lot more liberal." Her eyes focusing on Tyler, she smiles. "Don't worry, I'll keep down the beach from you if I turn it up for more than a moment. As for you carping on the forms, no problem; you've only seen a few of the forms I've worn. The one I've worn longest, and felt most at ease in, is nothing like this, in body or in brain. A lot of the world is in lust with forms like this, though; seeking it, trying to achieve it -- envision a world where people have grown up with such ideals, and suddenly have the ability to attain them at will. You'd see a lot more drastic forms than this. Ones not as well implemented, too." She stands waiting, trailing fingertips slowly down the wall beside her, as her eyes visibly shift in essence, filling to the overflowing again with nothing short of extreme, smoldering nymphomania, sufficient to boil an ocean or two. <><><><><> Tyler: "So..." Tyler looked thoughtful, and as usual resorted to a new Marlboro, "...y'all're saying these bodies y'put on are either ones you've touched, like me, or ones y'all've *occupied*, either here, or in one of these...whattayacallit, *sidereal* worlds, like the ones ah draw hardware from? And Miz Penthouse Pet here is a sample of how people try an' look in one of them worlds?" She contemplated that thought for a while. "Say...ah wonder if all of us New Mutants heah, draw our...Talent, didn't you call it? From the same subset of almost-alike universes. Interestin'. 'Magine a world with everyone all Zirconned up like Crystal. Have to wear mah shades permanently. "So...ah got to ask. First...what's the original real you look like? And second, what about y'all's 'Most comfortable' form? Ah mean, y'all can put your Morgana outfit back on later, couldn't ya?" <><><><><> Mystery --- Mystery shakes her head slowly. "I don't mean that I was shot in another universe -- it was really this world's Chicago. I was on a mission for that federal agency Mahon and Donnay work for. I didn't mean that I draw these forms from alternate worlds. I think its more a matter of direct rearrangement of genetic code, since I can think of it that way, and get any result close enough to human to count as a variation on human." "Maybe it has something to do with parallel worlds though...that Many Worlds theory of quantum mechanics. Who knows?" "I meant that except for when I need to mimic a particular person or appearance, I try to make the most perfect body forms I can; perfect in their own right, for whatever purpose I have in mind. For easy seduction, I often try for the wildest fantasy stereotypes; the images the average person out there has been programmed by media to consider attractive, or unique. Tends to make people think they're either talking to some kind of celebrity, or they're dreaming. It's an advantage either way." A wry grin. "You've just happened to be present for two of the three times I've experimented with this body type. Allright, we've got time...I'll show you just how wide a range of forms I can assume. I guess this outfit is stretchy enough to serve, anyway." Walking over to the bed, Mystery sits down on it and holds her arms out to the sides. "First, my birth genetics form." Mystery slowly shifts to a very attractive young man, sixteen years of age, with average build, refined, exotic features showing a blend of american indian, spanish, irish and english ancestry, dark brownish black hair, and stormy grey eyes. "I think possibly the Navajo in me may have given rise to the shapeshifting. It always did in my imagination, anyway." "Next, a form I started wearing as a disguise, but came to enjoy a lot. My favourite so far." In a swifter shifting of practiced ease, Mystery's body switches to female, hair turns a long, shining raven black, eyes sparkling to a striking green, skin shading marginally darker, figure filling out considerably, but resulting in a well proportioned, mostly slender, stunning american indian girl sixteen years in age. Standing, she turns slowly, arms held out, roughly 5' 4" tall. "My favourite among my invented forms. Why, I'm not sure. Maybe my indian blood telling again in preferences." Settling on the bed edge, she shrugs. "I can shrink, become larger, turn into a child of any age, even an infant. That's a wild experience, let me tell you. I can vary it some...make myself look vulcan, for example, since some people have an olive complexion, and pointed ears can be a birth defect. Or an accident with a rice picker." <><><><><> Tyler: "Ah liked the original you," Tyler allowed, simply. "Don't matter, though, do it? Y'all are different now, and changin' even as we sit here...inside, ah mean. "C'mon. Ah'll go, even if it means bein' the wallflower friend who gets ignored 'cause all the men are blinded by those big-ass headlights. If y'know what ah mean. Here..." She began to strip out of her regular clothing en route to the bathroom, the purple bikini slung over a shoulder. By the time she reached the door, she was down to panties. When she came out, she seemed a little less depressed. The bikini top was skimpy but underwired, making the most of her none-too-copious assets; the string bottom showed off her leanly muscled legs and small backside to tremendous advantage...if you didn't mind all the faded scars around the left knee. She was spare and athletic, with an aggressively defined musculature; her slight bowleggedness was even more apparent, but appealing nonetheless. She slipped on some Nike sandals, grabbed her purse and a powder blue hooded tee, and nodded. "All right. Grab your partner, and le's dance." <><><><><> Mystery --- Mystery nods solemnly. "Ironically, I think we shape our powers -- and then they shape us in return." A wry grin and wink. "In my case, more than most." "You'll never be a wallflower," Mystery replies, smiling. "Too cute, smart, strong, and courageous too. I still remember you gating in that supergun and ripping Lucretia to shreds. I knew if _I_ got squished, I stood some chance of regenerating. You had to face her without that option. Headlights only stun the dumber animals. It takes evidence of a good driver behind the wheel to dazzle some." Once Tyler is finished and out of the bathroom, Mystery walks back in, and emerges a few minutes later in the previous seductress form, eyes smoldering. "Ready," she whispers, and follows, keeping the bath towel. <><><><><> --- Tyler --- "Show time," Tyler muttered. She reached out and grabbed a handful of dreamstuff, which she twisted and pulled like taffy into a shape she remembered: Crsstal Cove beach, off the Coast Highway south of Corona del Mar, the San Joaquin Hills looming as a pleasant backdrop. "Here we are," she said. Ahead of them, a low stone wall; beyond, the could scuff into the near-perfect sand. Long breakers rolled in, slate blue with white frosting, dotted with the bright splotches of color that were surfers and knee-boarders. An airhorn sounded, making them jump; not too far behind them an eighteen-wheeler whistled by, whipping their hair in its backblast. Ah, California. <><><><><> --- Mystery --- Walking out onto the beach, Mystery finds a good spot and settles in, inhaling the ocean breeze slowly. "The Atlantic is cold and pleasant, but sometimes sun and heat are better," she whispers, stretching, and people watching. "That's one bad thing about New York. The coast near it isn't even quality Atlantic coast. More needles and razor blades than grains of sand." <><><><><> [GM] Needless to say, Mystery attracts a great deal of attention. Since Tyler can still feel the attraction, Mystery obviously has her desire aura pumped up significantly, and she's literally a guy-magnet. Right now, they're just milling around, flirting, propositioning and leering, but things are likely to get out of control very easily. Tyler isn't ignored, but the focus of attention is on the blonde teenage wet-dream. It should be noted that while Mystery IS gorgeous, she isn't quite the inhuman beauty that Mitchell thinks. Playboy-caliber, certainly, yet Tyler has seen a few (albeit VERY few) women that were more beautiful, both in terms of pure sexuality, and in other respects. What Mitchell has done is created a fantasy woman out of his teenage hormone-driven imagination. The enormous breasts and extreme hourglass figure will certainly dazzle the more simple-minded types who go for that kind of exaggerated look (which, to be honest, IS most men...but some are more sophisticated and less taken in by a mere overabundance of secondary sex characteristics) but while Mitchell "wished" for the most incredibly attractive female human being imaginable, his power only complied to a certain extent. Without having ever actually SEEN the most incredibly attractive female human being imaginable, his runaway imagination and somewhat limited experience is the only basis for actually constructing the body. The result will certainly suffice for most of the male population, but she's not Venus descended from heaven. However, with her attraction aura radiating at full blast, she could look like Broom Hilda and still have them panting after her. The second thing Mitchell discovers is that changing his body does NOT change his essential personality. He does succeed in turning himself on and making himself extremely eager for sex...and the prospect of doing it with a man isn't ENTIRELY unappealing, since there is a certain amount of biochemical influence where physical attraction is concerned. However, unless he was bisexually inclined in the first place, he doesn't find his orientation switched along with his current physical gender. He can alter his own personality only to the extent that it's affected by biochemistry (and even there, his power provides a certain amount of instinctive compliance with his wishes, but not knowing exactly what to change, he can't always be guaranteed of getting the exact results he wants). He can't magically turn himself into a nymphomaniac heterosexual female. Since he's thinking of his morphing in terms of artistry, figure he's a talented beginner, but he isn't Michaelangelo yet. <><><><><> Mystery: [OOC: *Full blast*?! Agggh; Mystery meant to ramp up the aura up _slightly_. Not trying for a mob. Mystery is a hormone driven teen with only very slowly developing common sense, but enough to avoid creating a stampede. Usually, in any case. Ah well. So much for a quiet while of sun and people watching. ] Mystery hastily lowers the desire aura to a more managable level, to both thin out the crowd to only the most interested, and take some of the attention off of herself. *Need to watch that. Let it go too far out of control, and I'll be so tackled I'll think I'm a football player.* Idly looking at whoever remains at lower desire levels, she searches for someone who looks pretty young, and at least charismatic and clean shaven, and decides to take the plunge, waving to him. "Come on over. Join me." <><><><><> Tyler: "Don't stretch," Tyler muttered. "It's like y'all are aimin' twin tractor beams at every nerd on the beach. Next thing, they'll all hang out to see if y'all are gonna flop a tittie out by accident, and then they'll get to fightin', and the beach police will bust us." She fished a blackrimmed pair of Serengeti Drivers from her purse and slipped them on, immediately feeling better for the moderate anonymity they offered. Then a cigarette, and she leaned back, arms behind her head, enjoying the baking sensation. <><><><><> [GM] [I mentioned what Mystery's power COULD do at full blast. She isn't at full blast right now, or things would already be WAY out of control! However, it does seem that she's generating a stronger effect than she meant to.] Unfortunately, while her aura may attract guys like a magnet, reducing power doesn't cause them to just walk away so easily. The aura got their attention; now that you have it, they tend to stick around. Reducing the level of your allure may make it less likely that some will act on impulse, without restraint....but you now have a sizeable crowd of men (and a few of their attached girlfriends, who seem ready to present an entirely different sort of threat to the gorgeous blonde) clustered around. Tyler is also being harassed. Mystery could just about be carrying a big sign that says "F*** me", and since Tyler is with her.... That bad attitude she's developed since becoming a pawn of the Puppet Master is coming on strong, and she's starting to wonder if pulling a shotgun out of the air might clear her some space. Of course, some of these guys are pretty good looking.... <><><><><> Tyler: "Hey. Mitchie. Ah think ah want to go for a *walk*," Tyler said meaningfully. "Y'all want to come along...? Without the entourage? Ah know it's gonna be tough to break away..." Tyler patiently smacked the hand of one overzealous admirer who'd been admiring the smoothness of her thighs a little too closely. Mitch was going to have friction burns from all of hers and their attention. <><><><><> Mystery --- Mystery, also a bit frustrated with the sudden overflowing of attention, looks to Tyler and nods. "Go on, anywhere I go something similar is going to happen...no matter what shapes the circumstances, if you know what I mean. I'm just too popular." A wry grin, showing Mystery is not one hundred percent pleased with the way things turned out either. "I can get back to the hotel by my own transportation." Standing, Mystery picks up the towel and tosses it to Tyler. "Enjoy the beach, I think I'll go get something out of my system. Sorry for this havoc. I meant well. I guess I'm just not coping very well. I'm learning fast, though." She shakes her head in wonder. "Real fast." Walking away from the current group of lusting admirers, Mystery locks visual sites on a clean shaven lone blond teenager down the beach and moves in with the attitude of a homing missile, pulsing the desire aura briefly to maximum, for no longer than a few seconds, the instant he sees her, then turning it back to normal. "Hi," she says. [OOC: On the matter of Mystery's psychology, as noted in original character concept, Mitchell always was very open minded, _and_ subject to strong belief in a lot of unusual phenomena; he was pretty much a mental shapeshifter before becoming a physical one, in his outlook on life, adopting new beliefs and ways as he liked, so would tend to mentally fall into the role of whatever body he is in -- partially from belief that the body affects the mind very strongly, and partly from just being highly adaptable in his likes and dislikes; and as a teen suddenly shoved directly out of mainstream humanity, is not only curious, but also eager to explore. Mystery's psychological self image is becoming less solidly defined all the time as new forms are tried out, and so is pretty much omnisexual right now; the usual teen exploration, taken to new extremes, and down wildly new pathways. ] <><><><><> [GM] "Hi," says Mystery's chosen victim, barely possessing enough presence of mind not to drool. Unfortunately, the group of lustful admirers follows her when she tries to walk away, and the brief flash of 'full power' attraction aura affected *everyone*, not just Mystery's target. The crowd of men responds angrily to her suddenly bestowing undue attention on someone else, and begin grabbing her with indignant protests. It looks like she may be in danger of being pulled limb from limb as a frenzied brawl ensues. <><><><><> Mystery: *Amazing the things one learns about people, in the oddest of circumstances,* Mystery muses, and attempts to make a run for the water, dodging grasping hands as needed; if anyone successfully manages to impede her, she will concentrate on increasing her physical strength without much increase in muscle mass. <><><><><> [GM] They do more than impede her; they practically dogpile her. And, to her vast disappointment, she finds that spontaneously increasing her strength doesn't work. It seems that while you can alter your mass, your muscle power is pretty much fixed, unless you borrow someone else's. Things are about to get decidedly unpleasant. <><><><><> --- Tyler --- "Christ on a crutch. Ah wish he'd get those damned wet dreams under control." Tyler changed direction to close on the conspicuously cantilevered transexual and his overly aggressive entourage. "Hey! Y'all wanna stay round here and get the s*** kicked out of ya in the name of adventurous sex, be mah guest. Otherwise, the Train is leavin'." She concentrated, and the same travel whorl of blue-white energy began to spiral behind her. "All 'board, y'all." If any of the entourage decided to chance the travel as well, she'd wish up a nice little automatic, and discourage them. <><><><><> --- Mystery --- "Don't worry about me!" Mystery calls out, actually giggling. "I'll be fine." *So much for the polite approach,* Mystery decides, looking at the crowd tackling her. "You really need to improve your approach," she says, smiling, and lets them get plenty of hands on contact, while she concentrates on rendering anyone touching her into a beach babe -- the eight month old variety. She actively reaches out to touch any particularly menacing types, then tries to escape in the resulting confusion and head for the ocean blue. <><><><><> Tyler: Well, despite the reply Tyler *was* going to worry about Mystery. Gang rape didn't have much appeal for her. Nor did a stampede and subsequent trampling, or an unanesthetized root canal. "Y'all are nuts," she said bluntly. "This ain't gonna work like you think it is. Use your brain, instead of your hormones." She didn't immediately back into the whorl; instead, she wished up a couple of items: the previously considered automatic, and a second item...a compact but really long range pair of personal communicators. Radios, satellite microwavers, whatever; something she could give Mystery/Mitchell to call her on, because at this rate there was no telling where he/she was going to be, after getting her surfeit of rough sex. As she waited for her selections to drop, she noted, "why didn't y'all just drop into San Quentin as your original self, if y'all just wanna be reamed 'til ya can't walk? This is crazy." <><><><><> [GM] One of the unnaturally-aroused beach bums suddenly screams, his scream becoming high-pitched and squalling as his body shrinks and ripples, and within a few seconds, has become that of an infant. This shocks some of the mob, but most don't seem to notice, now that they're fully under the affect of Mystery's aura. What little clothing she was wearing is ripped off in instants. It's obvious that Mystery can't morph all of them at once. (And the baby is in serious danger of being trampled and crushed.) Tyler summons her gate....for some reason, the gun doesn't come, but she does get a pair of walkie-talkies. <><><><><> Mystery --- Mystery lets loose with a horror film scream and shapeshifts into an eight year old, suddenly remembering the switchover from attraction to protective feeling reportedly generated in others by the aura during testing. Then she screams again, and struggles to get loose; _if_ that does not work, she will impose her shapeshift form genetic code on someone else, and switch to Mitchell form and using telekinesis and flight to get loose and take off, but only after giving the shapeshift and pulses from the child-aura a chance to work. <><><><><> [GM] Mystery turns into a little girl (a naked little girl), screaming dramatically. The men piled on top of her turn pale, and draw back, looking extremely confused and flustered, but the ones at the edge of the mob, who haven't witnessed her transformation yet, keep trying to get to her. "What...." "Who the hell..." "What ARE you?" That dark part of Mystery almost wants to laugh at their consternation, but she realizes she's still in potential peril. The dark part of Tyler wants to gun the whole lot of them down. <><><><><> Mystery: Repressing the laugh, although warily amused nonetheless, Mystery keeps the aura at a moderate but higher than usual level to keep them feeling the protectiveness. "Leave me alone! I wanna go home!" Mystery cries, and stands up. Turning toward the direction where most or all have seen her, she wails pitifully, "Please, let me go! I wanna go home!" *Now lets see if the average citizen on the beach is prepared to stick around with a naked eight year old wailing.* She tries to get out of the crowd, repeating herself as needed and enhancing tear duct activity to produce tears if necessary, then if she gets out, she will run for the water, full tilt. <><><><><> Tyler: Tyler had plenty of trouble, keeping an eye on the plethora of shapeshifts while trying to maintain eye contact with whichever one was Mitchell. A baby, then a pre-teen girl, both naked and squalling... She flexed her fingers, actually anxious for the non-appearing firearm. A brief flash of curiosity: *why didn't it drop in?* There really wasn't time to worry, though. She had intended to leave one of the walkie-talkie units for Mitchell to call her on later, if she needed help. Looked like that wasn't gonna be possible. She turned them on, cranked up the gain on both, then pitched one into the fringes of the melee. Click. She deepened her voice. "POLICE," she intoned. The walkie- talkie added just the right touch of mechanical police-radioese to her voice. "ALL OF YOU FREEZE!" Then the words guaranteed to make everyone scatter: "HOLD IT RIGHT THERE..." <><><><><> [GM] Between the crying, naked little girl and Tyler's walkie-talkie trick, the mob of men is hopelessly discombobulated. Some run, some stand there gazing around stupidly, and a couple make to grab Mystery; whether because they're still under the effects of his telepathic compulsion and aren't discriminating according to age, or because they now want to protect the little girl from the frenzied mob, is unclear. Quite a few people are converging from elsewhere up and down the beach...and a couple of men, having lost sight of the buxom blonde who originally inspired their lust, are now heading for Tyler with lascivious gleams in their eye. <><><><><> Mystery: Noticing the travel gate ready for Tyler's escape, Mystery stifles a giggle and runs the rest of the way into the water, wading out and shifting into Mitchell within the shallow of the water, then taking off straight upward flying at thirty miles per hour, and arcs out over the ocean, leveling off into a standard comic book flight pose, arms outstretched in his direction of travel, though in the more relaxed V position. Flying outward and upward, Mystery continues until just a speck, then turns and flies out over the city, in search of a highrise hotel, rising in altitude as needed to find a sizable one. Once he has a large, tall, expensive looking one spotted, he intends to land on its roof and look for an entrance. <><><><><> Tyler: "Hey. Back off, you a**holes." Tyler produced the sonic weapon from her purse, despite not knowing what exactly it did. At least it *looked* dangerous. "Mitch, get through the gate, before I spank your bare butt. If anybody ever deserved a whippin', it's you. Don't y'all step on the baby, either." She looked around for something crystalline that might make a colorful demonstration target in case she had to fire. One part of her didn't want to test it on humans, for some reason. But the darker side of her was urging a practice firing. Cell disruption ought to be colorfully explosive enough... <><><><><> [GM] [to Mystery] It takes a while to fly back to the city, but soon you spot the gleaming tower of the Century Plaza hotel, in Century City. [to Tyler] Mystery ignores you, turning back into the original Mitchell Langstrom, soaring into the air (naked), and disappearing into the distance with a giggle. The men hesitate, no longer under direct influence of his power, and now facing a pistol of questionable reality, but certainly possessing a menacing enough appearance. <><><><><> Tyler: Tyler cursed, but refused to wait any longer to help someone as far gone as Mitchell was acting. She wasn't going to leave the walkie-talkie, either; she didn't know how good technology was at backtracking the signal. She urged the men back with a wave of the pistol, scooped the second unit, and then backed through her Gate and [hopefully] back to their hotel room. He knew where they were, if he ever came down off his hormone high long enough to think. She was going to have to have a long talk with the Big Dog about Mitchell. He was acting just loony enough to jeopardize their mission. Curiously, part of her mind didn't think that was all bad. Weird. Another question to ponder after a few drinks, in a bar somewhere. A country bar, this time. Without Mitchell. <><><><><> [GM] Country bars aren't as common in L.A. as in Texas, but there are a few. A lot of the men aren't much more subtle than the ones on the beach, and not much more mature than Mitchell...but at least they're entirely predictable. <><><><><> Tyler: Once back in their room, Tyler started by losing the swim suit and changing back into normal attire: jeans, lacers, a black tank top. Next, she dragged out the phone book and started calling the area dance halls, trying to find one with a band she remembered...or who might remember her. It had been quite a while, but maybe... Afterwards, she was going to bite the bullet and call their Boss, to get the skinny on Crystal and to report Mitchell's aberrant behavior. She for damn sure didn't want his narrow ass cavorting off every time he got a F- -- me twinge in his overloaded little id; they had a job to do. Okay, so maybe she was a little jealous. She still liked the kid inside. But it made her a little uncomfortable that it could be nothing but his "aura" that made her like him. How many other people secretly operated the same way? Had she ever done it with some guy because he had a similar unnatural allure? She shuddered. Not a nice train of thought. <><><><><> Mystery: Mystery flies quickly down to the Century Plaza Hotel from high altitude directly above if it looks as if no one is on the roof, and then proceeds to search for a convenient entrance door or other useful opening, swiftly. A wry grin on his features as he shifts to the seductress form in great detail of stages again, while contemplating the beach incident. *Now I know I can't change more than one person at a time. Productive scuffle, anyway.* Mystery takes a moment to plan, and decides a little hotel room infiltration is in order. Once in, Mystery intends to carefully and discretely find the way down the stairs or accessway to a hall, and watch for a time when the coast is clear in a hallway, making note of any man, preferably young, going into a hotel room. Once someone fitting the bill has been seen going into a room without talking to anyone inside, Mystery will swiftly go to the door and knock; the moment the door is open, she will intend to turn the desire aura up to half maximum power and go in, closing the door and locking it behind herself, and assessing the person's appearance, and the room, before deciding exactly what to do next. The planning ahead over, she proceeds to try and implement it, going in warily watching for other people, security cameras and such. <><><><><> [GM] [to Mystery] The first young, good-looking man you see is wearing a very expensive suit and carrying a small briefcase. He enters a room without a word, and you hear no noises from within. When you knock, he cracks the door, then gasps as you turn on your desire aura. As you slip inside and lock the door behind you, he gasps "Who...who are you?" [to Tyler] You go out for a night on the town. Dancing at "B.J. Huley's" country bar works out a lot of your frustrations, and you'd forgotten how good looking some of the men in L.A. can be. You can't *really* enjoy yourself, though...something that Puppet Master did to your mind has colored all your perceptions, and you can't help looking on the mere mortals around you with disdain. Although you're aware it's irrational, and contrary to the way you used to think, you're now convinced that you possess some kind of natural superiority, by virtue of your powers. At first you think you've become some kind of racist, but you don't really feel revulsion for "normals"...just contempt, and maybe a bit of pity. Whatever it is, though, you can't regard any of them as your equal. If you decided to accept any of their pick-up attempts, it would be purely to use them. Feeling anything for them, emotionally, is out of the question. Ironically, this leaves you with only one option if you're looking for something besides just sex. Mitchell. And sex seems to be the ONLY thing on his (or her, depending on his/her mood) mind. Which also brings you to your assignment. By tonight, you should be in contact with Puppet Master. And if Mitchell is still out gallavanting around, the boss will NOT be pleased...with either of you. You enjoy a considerable amount of free will right now, but you're aware that he could very easily change that. <><><><><> Mystery: "I'm your wildest teenage dreams come back to haunt you," she whispers, walking closer and reaching up to touch his chin slightly with a fingertip, stepping within body heat distance, smiling. "I am Desire, in the flesh." Through the contact with his chin, she eliminates most body and facial hair, increases his endowments considerably along with his ability for repeat performances, and experimentally concentrates on increasing genetic predisposition in him toward gentle romantic passion instincts. As a final touch she increases his muscles slightly, and caught up in the thrill of the moment, remembering her own fertility increase to maximum for a hint of danger, she concentrates on increasing his fertility drastically as well, then raises his skin sensitivity. *The thrill of nature given a touch of supernature,* she muses, looking into his eyes. "You may call me Desire. What is your name? Where are you from?" While he answers, repeating her question if necessary, she very gradually starts ramping up her desire aura, while undressing him, pushing him back toward the bed after a quick look around to make certain no one else is present. "Are you expecting anyone to come here?" she asks finally. If not, once he is undressed, she hops into bed throwing the covers back, and looks at him in a sultry way, one knee up, turning her skin pleasure sensitivity to maximum, followed by the desire aura at full power for a moment, then ramping it down to easily maintained but still higher than normal levels once it is no longer needed to encourage urgent action. Barring interruption, she spends the remainder of the day and half the evening in the passions, enhancing his abilities whenever required, applying regeneration to both of them occasionally to prevent difficulties from overactivity, bursting forth with desire aura on full for intervals when required as a prompting, probing him for information on himself whenever rest is needed. Afterward, she will lead him to the shower to keep him in sight while they both get refreshed, and talk in the shower. "I'm into singing, music, and dance. What do you do?" <><><><><> Tyler: Oddly, Tyler hadn't wanted to go out just to get laid. She'd wanted a little physical activity, which dancing had provided, and she'd been toying with a wistful longing to jam with one of the old bands she remembered from her brief stint with the old boyfriend. Unfortunately, she didn't know any of the musicians, didn't remember the club manager, and simply didn't have the arrogance or the desire for center stage that would allow her to push her way into a spot. So...that idea got parked for the time being. Mitchell. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. It wasn't that she'd been dumped so that he could test out his pheromones on a herd of beach dicks; if Mitchell preferred being a girly, that was his lookout. It was the total lack of concern for her, and their situation. Whizzing around like an overinflated balloon with a sudden pinprick leak. Turning one guy into a baby, *after* Mitchell lured him in in the first place! After much thought and a few more Red Dogs, Tyler eventually managed to convince herself that she was dealing with a kid. No matter how mature he *seemed*, or what he made himself look like, he was basically still a retardo teenager, complete with hormonal imbalance, wet dreams, and a total lack of appreciation for anyone else beside himself. "Hell," she said, to no one in particular, around the filtered end of a Marlboro, "ah was never that age. And never that stupid." She peeled off enough bills to cover her tab, and sauntered out the door. She was just buzzed enough to find the sensation pleasurable. Outside, she was headed back to the room, where she intended to phone the Big Dog, get the skinny on Crystal, and fill him in on Mitchell's uncontrolled behavior...if Mitchell wasn't back yet. <><><><><> [GM] [to Mystery] Sylvester Adaleris is a San Francisco lawyer in L.A. on a business trip, representing a client firm. He's expecting a phone call from one of his partners, but not until later tonight, plenty of time for you to indulge in your passions. Your use of powers is mostly successful...you alter his body according to your desires, and drive him wild with passion. Your attempts to change skin sensitivity aren't as effective as you hoped, though there's a least a psychological effect. And you really have no idea if your attempts to increase both your fertility levels are successful. You can regenerate yourself and him to prevent soreness from...ahem...friction, but though you remain vibrant and energetic, he becomes more and more fatigued, until finally you realize that if you keep forcing him to perform with your desire power, he's going to fall unconscious from exhaustion. In the shower, he seems a bit dazed, and keeps asking "Who are you? WHAT are you?" He answers your questions; "I'm a lawyer...umm, biking and white-water rafting in my spare time, music and dance is fun too..." [to Tyler] Mitchell isn't back yet. You call the number Puppet Master implanted in your mind, and he answers on the second ring. Needless to say, he isn't happy about Mitchell's behavior. "It seems he needs a few more *constraints* on his liberty," the Russian comments dryly. "You will have him call me as soon as he returns. Hmm, I wonder if you could summon him with your power? No, best not try it, no telling where he is at the moment and what sort of commotion such a manifestation of your power would create." "Christine Tallin is about to hold a press conference. I want *you* to contact her beforehand. You will somehow have to arrange to talk to her privately, because she has a police escort right now, and he can't know that anything has happened to Miss Tallin. You need to lure her someplace where Mr. Langstrom can use his power to drain her of energy and assume her form. You will send our beautiful young model to me, and then Mr. Langstrom will take her place at the press conference." "I have more instructions, once you locate that irresponsible child. Call me immediately when you do." The phone clicks as he hangs up. <><><><><> Mystery: "I'm like Paladin, but cuter," Mystery replies, giggling and teasingly splashing Sylvester with water. "You know, like in the comic books and animated series, a mutant. My talents aren't in lifting oceanliners, though," she adds. "If you like me, and enjoyed tonight, we can do it again sometime. I know your name, and can look you up again. First though, I'm going to have to ask to borrow some clothing. A jogging suit if you have it, something loose that I can stuff into." Finishing the showering, she steps out and towels off, then leads Sylvester out and back to bed, using desire pulses to keep him from resisting when she pushes him into bed, then leans over and kisses him intently, and goes and rummages through his clothing to find something loose or stretchy enough to suffice for going out in public without changing form. Once a loose shirt and slacks or jogging suit or trench coat, or other useful articles of clothing are found, she will dress, even if uncomfortably, and call a cab. "I'll need about twenty dollars," she says, and gets it from Sylvester, keeping him in a daze throughout the experience. "Oh, and one more thing," she adds, tilting her head and looking deep into his eyes. "It was wonderful. Thanks." She plants another kiss on him, and mischievously extends his own overendowment straight into Ripley's believe it or not territory, then leaves, not bothering with shoes, and taking the elevator, acting completely casually, as if she were someone who had just visited a friend and was departing. Out of the room, of course, she reduces her desire aura to absolute minimum, and if she makes it out of the building unquestioned, hails a cab to go to an address near, but not at the hotel Mystery and Tyler are staying at. The intention, to go there, take a longer, more luxurious shower, then switch into one of the swimsuits and go to bed, watching television. <><><><><> Tyler: **Swell.** Tyler wanted to fling the phone across the room. The Big Dog barks, and she jumps through the hoops. She was supposed to find Mitchell and have him call home, then set up a meet with Christine when she still didn't have an inkling of where Tallin was staying. Well, there was no hope for it. First, Christine. She started calling major hotels in the area, and asking for her room. What else was there to do? SHe evolved the plan of identifying herself, calling on the debt Christine owed her, and telling the woman that there was some critical information she needed to pass on, but she didn't trust it to be done in front of others. Could Tallin meet her immediately, at some isolated location where they couldn't be spotted or followed? And what about Mitchell...the asshole. She considered trying to materialize a pocket-sized metahuman tracking device. After all, what could it hurt? The big Sky could only dry up and say no. Maybe she should have left the walkie talkie. She dialed another number. <><><><><> [GM] You open the air in front of you with another rent in the fabric of reality, and out falls a small plastic device that looks something like a hand-held calculator, with several buttons labelled in a script you don't recognize. Before you can ponder it, though, the door opens, and Mitchell walks in, in his normal (that is, the one he *says* is his REAL one) form. [to Mystery] You find Tyler sitting on the bed, holding some kind of plastic calculator, and looking thoroughly annoyed. <><><><><> --- Tyler --- "Hell, 'bout time." Tyler wasn't happy. "Ah already called the Big Dog. *He* ain't happy. Matter o'fact, he was so unhappy, he forgot to tell me where Crystal is hangin' when he gave me the Big Plan. *Y'all..." she paused for effect, "...are s'posed to call him. Now." Tyler returned to her phone dialing, oblivious to the contradiction that presented if Mitchell was supposed to check in. "She's got a press conference comin' up. Ah'm s'posed to sidetrack her 'fore then with some hogwash story, get her out from the cover she's got, so's you can dupe her and ah can rustle her back to the Puppet Man. If ah can find her." Absently she played with a few of the switched on her newly materialized toy, pointing it in Mitchell's direction. Maybe it would work on Crystal, too... She paused in her activities to glance askance at Mitchell. "Y'all get laid enough to calm you down, boy, or y'all gonna be flyin' off ev'ry time you get th'urge?" <><><><><> --- Mystery --- Mystery dives aside as Tyler begins toying with switches on the gun, then glares. "No, I've got it out of my system for now." Mystery settles in a chair -- out of sonic weapon cone of influence, picking up the false ID and turning it over slowly, thinking. Mystery, contemplating the previous day and night's activities, decides on a little experiment before shifting into the Boyfriend body again; Mystery concentrates on developing any embryo within that might have formed, or be in the process of forming, to nine months stage of development/age. <><><><><> [GM] oops- Puppet Master told you Crystal's address, but said to wait until Mitchell returns before you take any further action.] The plastic panel on your device glows briefly when you press one of the buttons, but you can't tell what that means. [to Mystery] Judging by the fact that your belly doesn't suddenly swell and you feel nothing, you figure your experiment failed. You can't tell if there's an embryo in there or not, since your powers don't give you any supernatural awareness of the state of your internal organs. On the phone, Puppet Master's tone is definitely not pleased. "You ran off to indulge in your personal adolescent fantasies, and risked causing a scene, not to mention getting separated from Ms. Sterrit. Not acceptable. There will be no more carousing, no more of this orgiastic revelry. Stick to your mission. IF you complete it successfully, then I may allow you to indulge in some of your hormone-inspired mischief later. But I do not want to hear anymore about how you're running around soliciting random sex partners, and transforming people and *flying* in public! From now, Ms. Sterrit is to be regarded by you as my second-in- command, and you will obey her orders. Do you understand, Mr. Langstrom?"