pretoria, meet behemoth

[mxglam]

Glam talks to Armsmaster about the possibility of maybe being given access to confidential files on the Slaughterhouse Nine and is, somewhat predictably, completely shut down, on grounds that the rules are there for a reason. They try sharing their strategies, Armsmaster thanks them for it and assures them he'll look into the raised matter, but they still need to wait until they're a full member of the Protectorate to take advantage of these resources.

And is that supposed to make them more likely to want to stick around? Ugh.

The three following weeks are fairly quiet and peaceful for a change. No major engagements, the Empire Eighty-Eight has been keeping quiet, the various Asian gangs reduced once more to fighting each other, the Teeth haven't yet rebuilt. Blasto, Lung, and Oni Lee are still awaiting trial, though it's likely the tinker will be given a lighter sentence in some parahuman containment center while the other two will be sent to the Birdcage.

And then, somewhat earlier than would normally be expected, telltale seismic activity is registered in Pretoria, South Africa. The capes wishing to help must make their way to New York, to depart in an hour - small aircraft is waiting at the PHQ for the trip there.

Comments

[thinkering]

"Not I. My imagination was not equipped to produce such slander of your character."

[msglam]

"But unfortunately it's true. We can't change our natures, after all."

[thinkering]

"Then you are doomed. Doomed to nerd-dom."

[msglam]

"Completely. I should get some horn-rimmed glasses and tweed jackets."

[thinkering]

"Ew, tweed."

[msglam]

"I can feel it calling for me."

[thinkering]

"But your all-white look is so flattering."

[msglam]

"Oh, it's only my secret identity that will wear tweed jackets and horn-rimmed glasses, couldn't have people track me down by wearing the same when out in costume."

[thinkering]

"Well then. I'm out of arguments. I will succumb helplessly to tweed."

[msglam]

"The tweed isn't even the worst part. There's also the being-obnoxious-about-everything part."

[thinkering]

"Oh no. That one might be a dealbreaker."

[msglam]

"I'm dooooooomed!"

[thinkering]

"Is there no way to save you?"

[msglam]

"Well, ancient scrolls speak of a forbidden secret..."

[thinkering]

"Ooh?"

[msglam]

"I must be snuggled a lot. It's the only way."

[thinkering]

"Gosh. How much is a lot?"

[msglam]

"That is not for us to know. Enough that the call of the tweed becomes only a dim voice in the back of my conscience."

[thinkering]

"Hmm." Snuggle.

[msglam]

Snuggle!

"I'm still hearing it, we must continue doing this."

[thinkering]

"Long as you need."

[msglam]

"Good!" Snuggle snuggle snuuuuggle.

[thinkering]

And Lorica dozes off.