My gaming group. I love these guys.

My gaming group. I love these guys.

Last night, we played City of Myst. We needed some escapism, so Space Wyrm versus Moonicurn wasn't gonna do it. Neither was The Watch.

After we figured the system out well enough, we get the following characters:
-- I was played a Rich Old Bitch who found a magical weapon in the attic. Normally, this is a bracelet but it can transform into any weapon.
-- Swamp Thing, the former boxer playboy whose car ran into radioative chemicals from Helix Industries.
-- The Undead Assasin, who woke with no memory surrounded by technical goodies from Helix Industries.

We wound up playing as "The Pros", meaning we have funding. It makes sense that I'm funding the crew.

We establish that I run a half-way house. Right now, that's the two other PCs, while they try to figure out their new lives. This half-way house is a sanctuary for those with no place to go. A half dozen bedrooms, shared kitchen and other essentials. Like a place to box and a shooting range.

One of our informants comes by HQ, and tells us there's a human trafficking deal going down at the docks. A bunch of people in a shipping container, about to be sold. Two days time.

We do a little recon and show up. The undead assasin sneaks in, and sets up a little sniper shack. There are a dozen goons. The gang inside is complaining that this is way out of their comfort zone. They sell product, not people.

Swamp Thing and Rich Bitch knock on the door. Politely. Though, how polite a monster with three arms and bone where skin goes can be is up for debate. Of course, thanks to The Mist, the sleepers only see him as a big ole' fighter.

The Rich Bitch explains to the gangsters that there are two options. In option number one, the people in the shipping container come home with Rich Bitch. The Gang keeping them gets paid, and everything is fine.

Option number two isn't nearly so pretty. As Rich Bitch explains it, the undead assasin turns on the red dot on his sniper rifle. On the forehead of the leader of the gang. In option two, the gang dies and Rich Bitch still gets the people.

They choose option 1. Rich Bitch cuts a check, and the gang clears out. The Heroes take the people to HQ, and buy a couple dozen sleeping bags to help them out until we can place them somewhere better. We call a refugee lawyer.

See? Who needs violence when you have the threat of violence, money, and two unkillable super heroes?