[center][url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/135-create-a-hero-rpg-always-accepting/char#post-2694478][img]https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/13399312/New%20folder/Myth%20Fantasy%20Banner%202.png[/img][/url][/center]
[center][h3]Sherman Square | Apartments | Night of the Riots[/h3][/center]
Justine sat against the rear of her car. By now fire trucks had been positioned around the place, along with a number of cop cars, and EMS first responders. One such car had pulled up, spilling an older looking gentleman out of it. He was dressed in riot gear, sans the helmet, shield and some of the other things. He hardly cast a glance about before Justine had rushed into his arms for a moment, hugging him tight. "Heyyyy," he said, hugging her back, only to urge her back to the ground, settling her down some. "[color=MediumPurple]Sorry,[/color]" she said apologetically as their surroundings seemed to sink in. This probably wasn't the place for that, since after all, eh was on duty. 

One hand waved her off dismissively. "It's fine. I'd expect nothing less," he said, somehow managing to look relieved and worried. His blue-gray hazel eyes, the same ones she'd inherited regarded her intently. "What happened? You look okay? Did you get hurt or anything?"

Justine shook her head as she shifted back a little to lean against her car once more. "[color=MediumPurple]Dad, I'm fine. Some guy broke into the apartment. Well it was two, actually. I was in my room, working on an article. I heard a crash in the living room, like the door busted in. I grabbed my gun, and went out. I found this bozo in a sort of respirator mask in a fight with... I dunno. It was like armor, or a robot or something. You know how these weird people have been popping up, doing things around the city? One of those types. I yelled at them to get out. They didn't, they had kept fighting. I had drawn down on them. At that point the guy int he armor seemed to have stopped for the moment, but the mast guy.. he made a move toward me.[/color]" She paused a moment, reaching up with one hand to cover her mouth with a shaking hand, just briefly. "I shot him. Just like you taught me. Bullet after bullet. I know hit him. I saw several of the bullets just kind of crumple against his flesh and fall off, leaving little welts behind. Didn't seem to do more than sting, if anything." She shook her head. "[color=MediumPurple]I-I think I just made him mad, or madder if anything. He kept coming, but the guy in the armor stopped him. The bozo in the mask grabbed onto the guy and started crushing him or something or so I thought.[/color]" She took a deep breath to steady herself. "[color=MediumPurple]I rushed to go get more ammo. I turned to look back , when these weird coffin or feather looking things about yay big,[/color]" she held up her hands to show him the size, "[color=MediumPurple]Swirled around the two of them. And then everything went white. When I woke up.. I was on the other side of my room. The door had slammed shut. The apartment was a wreck. The whole area looked like a bomb had gone off or an artillery strike had hit it. There was a big hole in several floors, the windows.. well. you see.[/color]" She shook her head, feeling tears well up in her eyes. Of course she was leaving out the part about Racheli for the moment. It was surprising how easy the lie came. It wasn't exactly a full lie, which is what made any lie successful.

Donaled reached out to pull his daughter into another embrace as she began to try to keep it together. He'd opted to just listen, let her tell the story for now. "And you didn't see any bod-" he was cut off as a different siren tone, this one a warbling alert to get attention. It read HAZARDOUS MATERIALS and Gene Co. on the side. "Ohhh wonderful," the SWAT officer said sarcastically. "[color=MediumPurple]What are [i]they[/i] doing here,[/color]" Justine groused. Bozo had mentioned filching the mask off of a Gene Co shipment. Surely they wouldn't be along to collect such a thing so quickly, especially with the riots. 

Immediately her mind was suspicious. Pushing off from the car, she reached over to stop her father as he turned to head toward the HazMat team that had just arrived on the scene. "[color=MediumPurple]Dad,[/color]" she said, catching his gaze with her eyes, looking up at him. "[color=MediumPurple]I already gave my report and all. I don't think there's anything else I can really add right now. I just wanna go crash.[/color]" Donald peered at his daughter who looked worn out. She wasn't used to this sort of thing, even though he'd prepped her to handle herself. "Alright. Key is still the same. Stay off of the area around Brickle." She flashed him a weary look then nodded, yawning some. "[color=MediumPurple]Sure,[/color]" she promised as she gave him another tight hug. A few steps took her to the door, which she opened, flouncing down into the driver's seat of her car. 

A moment later she had the engine turned over and was backing out. The touch of a button rolled down the window on her car, and she could hear the sergeant and her father questioning the Gene Co team. "Gentlemen, what are you and your team doing here? This is a crime scene, and apparently there was a good sized explosion in the building?" 

"[color=yellow]Sir, we were notified that there was hazardous Gene Co property in the building. Unfortuantely, it may have come in contact with a level five virus that escaped containment in one of our facilities. Until we know, we can't allow anyone in the building to prevent further contamination.[/color]"

"This is a crime scene," Sergeant Danvers countered. "We can't just let people walk around in there, contaminating all the evidence." 

"[color=yellow]My people are all in isolation suits[/color]," the HazMat team leader was countering behind his rebeather and yellow isolation suit. "[color=yellow]We'll preserve it as best we can, Sergeant. We know what we're doing. We know all about the Chain of Custody, and preserving crime scenes. But /if/ this thing gets out, you think the Black Death was bad? You think Ebola is bad? This stuff is a walk in the park. You'll bleed out of every orifice, your insides will fall out through your ass, while your skin blisters and peels. You'll convulse so hard you snap your own spine, but by then it doesn't matter as your bran is melting from the 108 degree fever.[/color]" 

Justine frowned. Was that the same thing Rach had? She resisted the urge to stop to talk to the man. Though suddenly her heart was hammering in her ears. Her father and Sergeant Danvers paled and looked mortified. Both of them turned around and began shouting orders to get everyone out of the building and begin quarantine procedures. By then, she was accelerating away and making a turn onto the street. 

With as long as she had been around Rach, she was sure she would be experiencing signs of the same virus. She wasn't though. Maybe she was immune? Perhaps Edgewynd had something to do with that. Best if she wasn't around people right now anyway. 

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[center][h3][url=https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/13399312/Shepherd%20House/mas1016.jpg]Shepherd House[/url][/h3]
【[url=https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/13399312/Shepherd%20House/mas1016plan.gif]Floor Plan[/url][b]/|\[/b][url=https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/13399312/Shepherd%20House/mas1016df.gif]3D View Front[/url][b]/|\[/b][url=https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/13399312/Shepherd%20House/mas1016db.gif]3D View Rear[/url]】[/center]

Justine pulled her car to the curb and parked it in front of a ranch style house with an attached two-car garage. It was as familiar as an old pair of shoes that hadn't been worn in a while, and as comfortable and inviting. It was home. The garage was shut of course. It wouldn't have mattered. It's not like she needed a key. Opening the car up, she hauled her basic luggage out, along with her bag, shut the car, locked it, then headed for the door. 

Fishing the key she needed, it only took a moment to open the door and slip inside. The kitchen light was on, and sitting at the dining room table to her left was her mother. Two cups of coffee sat on the table and she looked tired while getting to her feet. It was easy to see where Justine got her looks from, in that her mother was as breathtaking as her daughter, both were built around the five foot six mark, with stunning blue-gray eyes, full and pouty lips, and filled-out builds. "[color=MediumPurple]Mom,[/color]" Justine said, her voice breaking a little. "Hi baby," Rebecca said in greeting as she gathered her youngest into her arms. Justine clung to her mother for a moment, taking strength and comfort from that ever-familiar embrace, before slowly sighing and loosening some. 

"Sit," Becca directed her daughter firmly, who did as she was told. A mug of steaming nectar of the gods was slid forward, which she quickly snatched up and took an experimental sip. It was doctored up just like she had enjoyed over the years, and made her smile. It was good to be home. In that moment, a stab of longing, of homesickness ripped through her, making tears well up in her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away, hiding behind another sip of coffee. At the same time, she knew that tone. She was in for it, most likely. "Now, it's late. Your father called and told me you were coming. What happened?" 

"[color=MediumPurple]Mom, don't you have work in the morning?[/color]" 

"I do," Rebecca said with a single slow nod, her tone lilting up at the last moment. There were other, more important things to take care of, like a likely rattled twenty-something daughter who was probably more blitzed than she realized. "I've slept about as much as I'm going to for now. And I'm pretty sure you're not ready for bed yet. Spill." 

Justine sighed. The story came out slowly at first, but then quicker, easier. she filled her in on the details of what happened, of Racheli... the two supers that broke in and battled it out. She left out her involvement as this alter ego of course. 

"And you don't know what happened to your friend," Becca asked. 

"[color=MediumPurple]I heard that everyone got evacuated. When I was leaving a hazardous materials response team, as well as a bunch of EMS was there. I plan on checking around in a few hours. I shot dad a text to keep an eye out for her when I was on my way over here. If she pops up, he'll let me know,[/color]" Justine said quietly, frowning. "[color=MediumPurple]Maybe that makes me a crappy friend, not going and looking for her directly. I should probably be dead. But I'm not, and if I made it out, I'm sure she did. She's a tough girl, and can handle herself. She probably will pop up shortly.[/color]" 

Becca eyed her daughter, not quite believing it. Years of living with a law enforcement officer, as well as working at a news station had made her a little wary of a story that was too neat. But, then again, Justine was a journalist. It seemed working in law enforcement or journalism or the media in some form was in their blood. "Alright, you're off the hook for now. And I don't think so. I'm pretty sure you were in shock a the time. Hard to have all your ducks in a row at a time like that. Having the presence of mind to gather all your stuff up that you could, and hers... Most people would have just ran. You did okay, sweetheart. I'll poke around too." Both mugs were empty by now. "Reload?" 

Justine nodded. "[color=MediumPurple]Yes, please,[/color]" she replied softly, letting her hair fall forward some to hide her face for a few moments. "[color=MediumPurple]I don't know what I'm going to do for a place now,[/color]" she groused. That was one of the big concerns on the list. "[color=MediumPurple]And I'm probably going to need money to make a new place happen. You know, people like security deposits and stuff.[/color]" Lightly drumming her oval nails on the table top for a moment, she  accepted the mug her mother brought back. "[color=MediumPurple]Thanks. So, while doing the blog and freelancing thing helps. I really need to find something steadier. More stable. You know?[/color]"

"Well..." Becca thought for a moment. "You're doing pretty good as a freelancer. I mean really really good. You made like over eighty thousand last year. Most full-time payrolled reporters make an average of around thirty-six grand a year. The higher paid ones make about forty-five." She raised an eyebrow, tilting her head a little. "With that kind of money you could take the year off if you wanted." 

"[color=MediumPurple]I know mom,[/color]" she sighed. "[color=MediumPurple]I know. Money's not a concern right now, but it will be, I'm sure. Maybe.. I'm just feeling vulnerable right now. I guess that's understandable after having where I live blown up by brawling capes. And one of them mentioned something about Gene Co. I .. [/color]" She cut herself off, tapping a nail as she sipped at her coffee. "[color=MediumPurple]I should look into that. Really. I'm sure someone will want to know what Gene Co. is doing. But it could be dangerous. They're a powerful umbrella corp.[/color]" 

"I know baby," her mother said. "I'll help if I can. That's one good thing that working for an official media outlet is good for. Research library, archives, and an entire network of contacts, not to mention your own." Justine nodded. "[color=MediumPurple]Yeah. I know. That's another reason. And oh yeah, full benefits. I don't have that on my own, twisting in the wind. But... right now I'm my own boss, which is good.[/color]" 

"That is always a bonus. Not many people your age can say that. And not many your age are as successful as you have been. You're twenty-four years old and making as much as I am," she said pride and a small smile. 

"[color=MediumPurple]Right. Alright,[/color]" Justine said. "[color=MediumPurple]I need to get a shower. I smell like a camp fire. After that I think I'll try to get some sleep.[/color]" As she finished, she drained the last of her mug. A couple cups of coffee wouldn't be a real problem. She practically lived on the stuff, and with the day she had, Justine was sure she would crash fast. Already she was getting to her feet. Rebecca joined her. "Gimme your clothes and I'll put them in the wash. Doesn't help to job and house hunt, or go hunting a story smelling like a crematorium." 

It only took a second to retrieve her luggage and wheel it over to her mother. "My babygirl," Becca said as she regarded her daughter fondly. "I'm proud of you. And I'm happy your home, even if it's only temporary." Justine rolled her eyes a little. "[color=MediumPurple]God... Mom, stop.[/color]" She couldn't keep the embarrassment out of her voice, but there was a small smile there. Justine then murmured, "[color=MediumPurple]Love you too.[/color]" Turning quickly she grabbed her backpack, and headed toward the other side of the house, toward her bedroom. It was on the front side of the house. She drifted past the bathroom, dropped off her bag in her room. Moving quickly she headed for the bathroom and quickly slipped out of her clothes and started up the shower. 

Morning would come far too early, even though technically it already was.