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Here is a glance at some of the worst U.S. mass shootings in recent years:

Nov. 5, 2009: The Army says 13 people were killed and 30 wounded in a shooting rampage at its Fort Hood base in Texas. The suspected lone gunman has been identified as Army psychiatrist Major Nidal Malik Hasan, one of the 30 injured.

April 3, 2009: A 41-year-old man opened fire at an immigrant community center in Binghamton, N.Y., killing 11 immigrants and two workers. Jiverly Wong, a Vietnamese immigrant and a former student at the center, killed himself as police rushed to the scene.

 

 

Read more: http://www.foxnews.com/us/2009/11/06/partial-list-recent-mass-shootings-united-states#ixzz1SzncpBa9

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http://content.photojojo.com/tips/legal-rights-of-photographers/

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Ryu Hayabusa awoke with a start. He lurched upright in the bed, sweat running down his brow. It took only a moment for him to regain his bearings and ascertain where he was: Lord Murai’s private guest room, replete with the finest linens and lit by softly burning torches and a plethora of candles. But why was he here? He looked down and saw that he was dressed in a white silk robe, one reserved for recovering war heroes. Ryu swung his legs over the bedside and stood. A dull ache formed across his back and he remembered.

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gpQ7mDqxdjU

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Ghost in the Shell

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Bodie McLean grew up on the rough streets of Los Angeles. He's been back a couple of times, but not since the Quake of

'09 dumped half the city in the ocean (there's a running joke that calls the earthquake 'urban improvement').

Kids who grow up the way Bodie did generally have two choices; one, they turn to crime, or two, they make the much

harder transition to violence for hire, and become street mercenaries. The very best of these are called 'street samurai'.

Bodie's been one for some years now.

 

Bodie made his first foray into the quasi-legal world of 'have gun will travel' when he was eighteen; in the ensuing two

decades and more, he has risen through the ranks to become a recognised force in his own right, from being a follower to a

leader. In this time, he has travelled to distant places, and faced foes he never would have imagined. The cumulative

effects of injuries have forced him to take cybernetic and bioware enhancements, some of which he could barely afford. But

those same enhancements have saved his life on more than one occasion, so he isn't complaining.

 

Bodie's last mission was to hit an R&D company which was researching some esoteric tech. This tech turned out to include a prototype dimensional door. It would not have worked, but when Bodie blew it up, the power surge weakened the fabric of the universe enough that ...

 

... over in Reich-5, scientists working for the Ahnenerbe-SS parachronic division suddenly had a success on a project which had been reading a flat zero for months. The idea was to pull in a living human being from another parallel - any human, any parallel - and interrogate him (or her) for local conditions. The ultimate goal, of course, was to create a fully-functional two-way gate.

 

What they got was Bodie.

 

Severely stunned by the explosion (he had been in a firefight seconds before) and the very rough transit, he did not put up much of a fight. So they had him down and sedated and under interrogation before he fully regained his wits.

 

Of course, at this point, things started going wrong for them. There were several facts about Bodie that they didn't know, and all of these would cost them dearly.

 

Firstly, he has internal nanobots designed to flush poisons out of his body; by the time they got past "what is your name?" he was mostly lucid, though still faking it. The interrogation drugs gave him a mild buzz, nothing more.

 

Secondly, he has implanted ceramic blades between his knuckles, invisible to 90% of scanning methods.

 

So when he spat out blood (from biting the inside of his mouth) and faked a seizure, they panicked and undid one of his restraints. They never got a chance to regret their mistake.

 

Thirty seconds later, he left that room, dragging one of the scientists with him. Everyone else was dead, from either blunt trauma, slashing trauma or bullet wounds - they had left his equipment in the same room.

 

Five minutes after he left the facility, with alarm bells still shrilling, the building blew up; he was trained in demolitions, after all.

 

A rough and ready interrogation of the scientist gave him an idea of the world he was in. Eager to see the back of him, the scientist also told him about the Chronobahn - a transdimensional 'highway' that could be accessed under the right circumstances, and be used to travel from reality to reality.

 

He thanked the man before he broke his neck. Under the circumstances, a live witness was something he did not need.

 

Upon locating the Chronobahn, he began exploring it. Apparently his personal 'trigger' was the light of the full moon; after midnight, the hexagonal stones of the 'bahn would stretch much farther than possible during the day, disappearing into misty obscurity in both directions.

 

So he began exploring it. From time to time, he located a Reich-5 outpost, and he did what he did quite well - he killed them.

 

It took the high command of the Raven Division some time to catch on to the fact that there was a lone operative stalking and killing off their outtime personnel, but eventually they did. And so they dispatched Jager-teams, seeking him with orders to kill without mercy.

 

He's met some of them. Occasionally they put up a good fight.

 

Bodie McLean is a tall, grizzled man with a neatly trimmed vanDyke and shoulder-length hair. He wears a broad-brimmed hat and a long-coat, as well as a pack of supplies. His weaponry includes paired auto pistols, a high-end TL9 assault rifle, and a katana (because you can't be a street samurai without owning a katana). The more obvious weaponry can be stashed in a duffel bag he generally keeps folded up in the pack.

 

He can be found on basically any world where Reich-5 has a presence, or may be scouting for potential incursions, or that he has a suspicion that they might have wandered on to.

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Al-Salam Alaiykoom

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UeTok5A-Efg&feature=player_embedded#at=151

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Furrygirl Strikes Back, or How To Handle TSA Checkpoints

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With my new conviction fresh in my mind I continued to follow Ash. It was easier to tell where I was now because this place was a little less maze like then the cathedral above. We went down an elevator through a door to a hall way and then we went into the second door to the left. Along the walls were weapons, tapestries, and shelves of different books. The titles varied between Fonic Artes and sword skills to recreational reading and cooking. I wondered if this was his room. Judging from the number of beds I guessed it was a dorm room for a few others so I dismissed that this was his room. Why would he share a room? He was a God-General so he probably had his own quarters some where.

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RPG Beach grid

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qq_2GOoFaXE

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http://www.preferredarms.com/images/weapons/large/polearms/2-Partisan.jpg

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http://cgi.ebay.com/COMP-UTER-SECURITY-PRODUCTS-CABLE-LOCK-ASSEM-CSP-620-/180468782426?pt=LH_DefaultDomain_0&hash=item2a04c7155a

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Vinny's antic around Becky's shoes does indeed entice the other pigeon down from the branch. This human obviously doesn't kick. Probably. Any remaining possibility of danger is comfortably outweighed by the prospect of sandwich crumbs. Cooing, the plump bird pecks at the ground around Becky's feet for a moment before muscling past Vinny to get at the real deal.

 

A quick acquiry later - Becky feels the still-thrilling tingle up her fingers - and the job is done. The pigeon is so absorbed in gobbling crumbs that she only gives a slight start a moment before she realises a hand is coming for her, and then goes dead calm. They leave her pecking at the ground (she regains her comportment quickly enough after quivering out of the trance) while they discuss strategy, Vinny doing so as he pulls his shirt over his shoulders.

 

A flock of pigeons rises through the treetops, a few minutes later. Alex finds herself reeling, giddy at once in the joy of flight and in the stunning truth of the transformation. More than one beak emits squawking coos, unbidden, that only the pigeon brain knows the meanings of. They're all caught up in it. There's something powerful, and exciting, about flying in a flock. A little grey army on a mission from the stars.

 

Soon there are an unusual amount of birds circling Mr. Addison's modest single-story. Vinny dictates; they all learn about the fireplace, the windows, Shrek 2. And then, leaving him, they each disperse their separate ways, landing in backyards and open windows and demorphing finding themselves naked and panting. There's something about flight that doesn't leave you for about ten minutes afterward. A feeling of giddy breathlessness. A sort of cross-body adrenaline rush.

 

And they left their clothes in the woods, to a one. Oops. If anyone stumbles upon that it'll look like an alien abduction.

 

If only that were really implausible. Worry gnaws in more than one stomach.

 

Vinny's shift passes uneventfully. He hears the sound of the television, for a while; a couple of casing swoops past the windows reveal that Mr. Addison is watching Family Feud. "Bulldozer" is not on the big board. The rest of the time is spent perching in a tree. A couple of guilty, half-instinctive forays are made down into the street for stray bits of...well, edible stuff. Pigeons aren't picky. And they have fast metabolisms. They get hungry quick.

 

Yeah. Lisa takes second watch, and after an hour and ten minutes - Family Feud is over now, and the house is quiet, which is nice, since she's still adjusting to the astonishing vision (not to mention diurnal sleepiness) of the pigeon morph - their big break comes.

 

Her history teacher, grey-haired, sober, exits his house by the front door, locking it behind him. He makes for his powder blue Volvo. He opens the door, gets in, turns the key in the ignition, and he rolls down the driveway, turning left on the street. Under the limit. Not fast. Slow. Careful. It looks every inch like a staid, middle-aged spinster-bachelor taking a night-time drive. His eyes are placid behind the wheel, his hands relaxed on its plastic ring. His eyebrows settled bushily, their hairs moving only, and barely, with his relaxed breathing. She can see all that from above.

 

The pigeon eyes are really good. She feels weirdly lucky, for just a second. Then she has to make a choice, and the sensation of being blessed fades instantly away.

 

A primer on FP recovery! You recover 1 FP per ten minutes of rest. About the most strenuous thing you can do during this period is talking, if you want it to count! If you eat a good meal while resting - one that you need, overeating doesn't help - you get an extra FP back.

 

All of you can just assume you're renewed, essentially, given you have ample time to rest. Remember the importance of taking a break sometimes - low FP means reduced capability, and if it drops below zero you risk a sudden faint or even a heart attack! The threshold for being worn out enough that it affects your ability to do things well is at one third of your maximum FP, so watch for slipping under that level if you can. If you get more tired than that, things get steadily worse.

 

Since you're all getting that refill, I skipped Morphing rolls for this one. Lisa does however make her IQ roll to keep track of time accurately, with a 9.

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=puD1xnS831U

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