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Below are the 5 most recent journal entries recorded in CoH UK RP's LiveJournal:

Friday, March 25th, 2005
1:31 am
I'll write more later, but suffice to say, I'm not feeling great.

I just saw Virginia die, then I killed the three people who killed her. I've never killed before. I feel really, really bad.

I'm gonna be staying with Fuse for a while.

Current Mood: drained
Thursday, March 24th, 2005
3:07 am
SAIL - Background information (compiled from various accounts)

SAIL (Special Agent Intelligence Laboratories) is an independent group of mercenaries, founded by a scientist who believed in the usefulness of the Right for Might act, and decided to carry on its core philosophy years after the act was toppled. The organisation is made up almost entirely of mutants, with varying abilities and specialities. They work out of a single headquarters (thought to be either a warehouse or a disused aircraft hangar), although they often set up mobile command centres near large operations. The location of the headquarters itself is unknown, but it is thought to be somewhere around 300 miles west of Paragon City.


SAIL is split into three separate wings, all of which are assigned to a specific part of the outfit:

• The Operative wing is the active part of SAIL, and its members are the ones who are sent out into the field to complete missions set by the other wings. It has a hierarchical structure not unlike that of a stripped-down military organisation, with various ranks through which Operatives may rise. In the field, missions are tackled by Cells, each consisting of an Operative Sergeant and a number of Operatives. Generally, the Sergeant will not take part in the action itself, although they have been known to lend their services when needed.

• The Conscription wing is charged with recruiting new individuals into SAIL, and training them for their duty. While many Operatives join the organisation willingly (many morally ambiguous mutants are eager to put their powers to use in exchange for hard cash), an equal number are “recruited” by way of telepathic persuasion. For this purpose, Mediators (essentially undercover agents) are spread throughout the surrounding area, often with low-ranking jobs in the emergency services. They will look out for Potentials – teenage mutants with appropriate powers, who are just developing their powers – and report any they find to the Direction wing, who will send Operatives to bring the new recruit in.

Once a Potential is back at the headquarters, a Conscript Trainer will be charged with developing their powers. Trainers are as diverse as the Potentials themselves, each with different abilities, to enable easy training. During the course of the training, Potentials are kept under constant telepathic supervision by a number of Restrainers, on a one-to-one ratio, to avoid any insubordination. It takes several months to train a Potential, and when their training is complete, they will usually go on to become Operatives. A small number are sent out as Plants, but more on them later.

• The Direction wing is quite mysterious, and thought to be relatively small compared to the other wings. It has a number of tacticians and advisors, who find and confirm missions for the Operatives to carry out. Generally, they oversee all operations, including recruitment, and answer directly to the head of SAIL.

During training, Potentials who do not possess the inherent cunning and killer instinct to become Operatives are marked out to become Plants. When their training is complete, Plants are subjected to rigorous telepathic readjustment, and their newfound abilities are effectively deactivated. They are then given false memories for the past few months, and taken back to their homes at night, where similar processes are repeated on their family and immediate friends. They will live on as if nothing has happened, awaiting an certain signal, whereupon their powers will be reactivated and they will become mindless automata, receiving telepathic orders from SAIL. The true purpose of Plants is not known, but they are one of the more terrifying aspects of the organisation, and it is thought that there could be anywhere up to fifty plants in the area surrounding SAIL’s headquarters.

However, for a small number of Plants, reinsertion into their homes is unsuccessful. It can be the case that they retain some hazy knowledge of the programme, and even if it’s nothing more than a vague sense of unease and a knowledge that something is just wrong. The reasons behind this vary greatly; it could be that the Restrainer who performed the brainwashing slipped up somewhere, or that the mutant in question has some form of psychic resistance. However it happened, these Rogue Plants will usually flee their homes soon after they are reinserted. As telepathic control could reactivate their powers, making them highly dangerous to the operation when coupled with their knowledge of its location, it falls to the Operative wing to recover them. They are usually recovered within a number of days.


SAIL is one of the more worrying results of the "Superhero Boom" of recent years, but in all honesty, its true intentions are unknown, as are its mission preferences. When the work they do is unknown, it is quite impossible to judge whose side they are on; however, their methods of recruitment seem quite unorthodox, and the organisation should be regarded with suspicion.
1:00 am
It's come to this
Damn. Damn, damn, and damn.

They know I'm here. I was right, sort of - that Oz guy had nothing to do with it, but SAIL's found me.

They've sent a guy who was on the project with me. Donnie Bryant, his name was. I thought he was hot at the time - he got brought in at the same time as me, and he had this air of mystery about him. That, and he had some similar powers to me, although he seemed to have some limited control over electricity. But he enjoyed the training way too much. I mean, I was reluctant, but when I saw what happened when you didn't participate... I did my best. Anyway, apparently he's calling himself "Fire Stem" now. He's changed, too - It's like he's had all his emotions drained. It's terrifying... Looks like he's working for them full-time now, and if that's what they do to you, I'm glad I ran. Anyway, how do I know all this? The things I was so confused about before? Well, I had an awakening tonight.

I was walking through Constellation Row, trying to find some friends, and he stepped out from behind a crate and just glared at me. He was looking scary as hell. "Hello, Jen," he said, glaring at me with those dead eyes. And that was all it took - it all came flooding back. I don't know how they held my memories back, but that seemed to bring everything back in a rush. I remembered it all - the programme, the training, everything. It'd all been a hazy blur, but now I remembered names, faces, and I bet I could even work out where the place was.

So it turns out they sent him to get me in - to "bring back the rogue", as he put it. He said it so eerily - like some kinda robot, or something. Absolutely crap-your-pants terrifying. Anyway, I tried to back off, get away, but he hit me with an electrical field. That was one of the things he'd been working on back when I saw him last. Anyway, I couldn't move, I was paralysed from the neck down. Then, in a move that seemed totally at odds with this cool, calculating look he had going, he actualy came over to gloat at me. He said he'd been studying my file, and he knew all about my powers, so there was nothing I could do that could surprise him.

He guessed wrong.

Sure, he knew what powers I'd had back when I was on the program, but I guess he'd assumed I'd spent my time here in hiding, cowering away somewhere and not trying to work on my abilities. That was his mistake.

When he got close enough, I just smiled at him, as sweet as I could. He leaned right in close, sneering at me, and that's when I hit him with my fire breath (yeah, I can breathe fire. I'm not talking metaphorically here. Although I did have a pretty nasty hotdog for lunch... So yeah, that's one power I developed all on my own. Screw you, SAIL!). I hit him right in the face - lucky for him he's a pyro too, or he woulda been dead, no doubt.

Anyway, that was enough to break his concentration enough for the electrical field to fizzle out, so I took the chance and kicked him as hard as I could, in that place where you don't kick guys if you wanna stay friends with them. Then I pulled out one of Virginia's web pellets and hit him with that, too. When I was sure he was down and not in any hurry to get up, I ran like hell, back here. Far as I know, he hasn't found where I live yet - and besides, I've got this place wired up good and proper. If anyone mutant-like comes within a hundred yards of my place, I know about it.

So. A plan. What do I do? I would have run, but now I know about SAIL... I don't want to. I want to stay here. I want to fight them back, and kick their sorry, kidnapping asses.

Screw them.

Hey... that sounds like a plan.

Current Mood: determined
Tuesday, March 22nd, 2005
11:22 pm
Damn. I think I screwed up.

Tonight, I was talking with a group of people I met yesterday (there's this kid, Fuse... she's cool. Think I might have actually made a friend!), and this new guy turned up. Wasn't saying much, so I spoke to him. He was called Oswald, which seems like a cool enough name, but then I started talking properly, and I almost said too much. I think I might have given something away.

I hope I didn't. I really hope it was all innocent, and he was just another guy.

The way he got me talking, though... I haven't mentioned anything about my past since I've been here, and then I went and did that.

Come on, Jen. You're being paranoid! There's no way they know you're here.

Is there?

Current Mood: worried
Monday, February 28th, 2005
6:56 pm
From the secret diary of Jennifer Tamland, aged 19 and three quarters...
I used to be Jennifer Tamland, but these days most people just call me Pyroclast.

I was a normal kid, went to high school, was popular, yadda yadda... and then I had my 19th birthday. That's when it all went to hell. I threw a big house party at my place, but things got out of hand. Some fires got started, and not even I knew how - even though I knew they were all somehow to do with me.

While the fire department hosed down the wreckage that used to be our house, and the paramedics carted away three of my best friends, the police dragged me away for questioning. Soon enough, a load of scary government types took me away, and put me on a weird "training course" - that's what they called it, but I think they were trying to brainwash me into being some kinda secret agenr or spy or something. I wish I knew. Either way, they taught me how to control my powers, and stop setting light to the bedsheets. Let's just say it's a good thing I seem to be fireproof, and leave it at that. I never got any answers, though. All I wanted to know was why this had happened to me.

Anyway, they let me go after a few months, and said I should return home and act like nothing had happened. I did, and sure enough, the house was back to normal, and mom and dad were acting like I hadn't even left. I was freaked out to the max.

I packed up the few belongings I had and made a break for it under cover of darkness. I'd heard that Paragon City was the place to be if you wanted to be anonymous, so that's where I headed. I managed to withdraw my savings before they could freeze the account or whatever, and I managed to get myself a ratty room in a cheap motel, in a bad part of town.

The first few nights were really bad. I didn't know what to do, and I pretty much stayed in my room, feeling like the loneliest person alive. Then, one night, I heard a scream outside my window. A lady was being mugged by three thugs with baseball bats. I snuck out onto the fire escape, cleared my mind like I'd been trained, and Whoosh! One of the guys was on fire. While he was rolling around on the floor, I leapt down and soundly kicked the ass of the second guy. (Of course, it helped that I took a whole load of self-defence classes back home!) By this point, the third guy was running - until the lady they'd been mugging, who I hadn't even looked at since the whole thing started, pulled something from her bag and threw it at him. He fell to the floor, trapped in a big, sticky mass. Neat stuff. The other two staggered away, helped him up, and all three made a break for it.

The lady introduced herself as Virginia Anderson, a dabbler in electronics and gadgetry. She thanked me for my help, explaining that she wouldn't have been able to handle all three by herself.

So, long story short, I made a friend that night - a very useful one. She set me up with a couple of gadgets and the name of a contact who could use my help, and told me a few of the ground rules of being a hero around these parts. She even came up with the name, Pyroclast. Since then, I've been out on the streets of Paragon City every night, fighting crime. It's given me a whole new lease of life. I feel energised each time I come home, battered and bruised. It's been a few months now, and I haven't heard anything from those government creeps, but I'm not enough of a blind optimist to think they've given up on me.

I guess I'll just have to keep a low profile, play it safe, and help out this city while I can.
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