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The usual suspects gathered. Some stayed in the back, ready to lend a hand if needed. Others step forward. A house at the edge of the cities, with Christmas lights brightening the porch. The house where Preston Wilde lives.

Colin rings the bell.

Sylvia stands beside him, as composed and laconic as a Secret Service agent.  She's waiting for a look at Preston, a chance to lock onto his brain and become a kind of human wire tap.  Her job is to receive and transmit so Preston can't take the team by surprise.

Sammy is airborne, protectively clad in Elrod's motorcycle jacket and a helmet that fits her.  She doesn't want Preston to know its her.  I liked you, you creep.  You were smart, and creative, and I wanted to help you to show that to other people.  You chose another way.  You want to hurt Dave.  Sorry, Pres, but Dave wins again.

Preston answers the door.  He's dressed casually and the sweatshirt he wears has oil and grease stains on it.  His brow furrows.  "Colin right, from the paper?"

"Yes, Preston. We have to talk. It's important."

He stops for a moment. It's like a shadow of doubt passes over him, and he looks at Sylvia for a moment.

"It's about your scholarship."

Donnie sat atop Uther, fingers tracing the dark burnished scales. Uther rumbled in his chest, and Donnie knew he was spoiling for a fight. "We are here only if things go really bad. Colin is there, and Sylvia. Sammy can protect them until we get there. We may not do anything at all tonight."

"I know, Master Donald. I am just anxious to battle. I have done little in the lands of humankind to help you. I wish to show you how a true battle dragon shines in adversity."

Donnie sighs, pulling on the long and heavy flight gloves. "I have faith, my friend. I just can't condone eating my classmates right now."

Uther rumbles, and Donnie isn't sure if it is in annoyance or amusement.

Preston looks at Colin and Sylvia.  "What about it?"

Sylvia says nothing.  She looks at Preston over Colin's shoulder and begins to bore into his brain (http://invisiblecastle.com/find.py?id=1360567) a little at a time.

[I have no idea what my power bonus is.  Here's a straight 1d20 roll, to be embellished as the GM sees fit.]

Preston is wary.  The word is out, the last kid Colin went to see died.  He's more than a little nervous, but also confused as to what this is all about.

Colin gets out the articles about the robot robberies and hands them to Preston. "What about it?"

Sylvia beams direct to Colin, with just a slight satellite delay.

Preston looks at the articles, glancing over them briefly.  "So what?  What are you a Narc?  You have something, arrest me.  If not, get the hell off my porch."

OOC: Sylvia can tell Preston has read the articles before, he even has them in his scrap book, along with every other robot related article he's seen or been shown since he was six.  He doesn't have any reaction other than outrage at Colin's accusation.

When the thought reaches Colin through Sylvia, he turns back to look at her, then again at Preston and he realizes he's been wrong. He was looking for guilt, and that's what he saw. A terrified expression appears for a moment on his face. He was wrong and he dragged his friends into this too.

"God and Great Spirit..." he whispers, his head bowed down in shame.

Then he reacts.

"Sorry, Preston. I... well I needed to know if you were involved with this. Now I know you're not." He takes a deep breath. "There's something we know about this robberies, they are linked to our school. And since you are the resident robot genius, I thought... Well, I'm sorry of what I thought." Another deep breath. "We came to tell you that there's a way to for you to go to the MIT, anyway. And now that we're here, well, maybe you could help us." He gets out the video from the jewelry store. "Can I show you something?"

Sarah was running late, as usual.  Even with teleportation I can't get anywhere on time!  She pops onto a nearby roof and sees Sylvia and Colin standing on Preston's porch. 

I wonder if Preston leaves his shades up?

Sarah starts looking around the house for open windows to peek in.  If any room looks diabolical or you know... geekboy she'll consider her options.

"Yeah, you can show me your ass walking away from my house."  SLAM  and the door is closed.

From 20 feet up, Sammy's muffled voice says, "Well that didn't go well."  She flits away swiftly to where Donnie is lurking with Uther.  Raising the visor on her helmet she says "All clear.  Colin made a mistake.  Its not Preston.  Hello, Uther!  I haven't seen you to talk to you since the island!"

"That . . . kinda sucked," Sylvia says, shaking her head to clear it.  I should have just read him from a distance, she tells Colin.  Whose idea was it to come to the door anyway?  The question is a gentle rebuke.  They had this discussion earlier:  Sylvia voted for surveillance, the sly approach.  Colin voted for confrontation, the direct approach.  (Sylvia may have been running her fingertips over her scars through the whole conversation.)

"No. I suck." Colin says, shaking his head, his shoulder hunched as if the door really hit him as he walks away.

Sarah hears the door slam and figures out that things probably didn't go so well.
She keeps peeking around the edges of Preston's place looking for any clues.  If he's innocent, he's innocent and if he has a big sack of cash sitting on his bed, well then... we'll see. 

Sarah sees Preston go back through the house and finally can see him through the garage window working on a robot thing of some kind.  Little smaller than a car maybe, but she can only see part of it.

Sarah sighs.  Well this is hardly criminal behavior.  Shouldn't he rub his hands together and say 'Muhahaha!' or something like that?

Sarah camps out for a while.  She pulls the hood over her head, curls up in a ball and waits.  Any minute now he'll do something evil.  As time slowly creeps by she thinks Any minute now...

Time slips by and eventually (unless Sarah leaves) her mom texts her to tell her she should be getting home soon.

Sarah rubs her tired eyes and stretches.  Okay, okay.  I'm coming home. 

"Good evening Mistress Samantha. Despite your uniform, I could tell you were about. I could smell the power of your ancestors."

Both Donnie and Sammy look oddly at Uther.

"You can smell power on me?  Do I need a better bodywash and deodorant?" Sammy asks, uncertain if the smell of her ancestors was a good thing or not.  Then it occurs to her that he recognizes the smell, meaning he has smelled it before and can identify it.  "Have you met many djinn?"

Uther, despite his utterly inhuman face, seems smug.

"I have met the djinn. They visit the drakes in the peaks sometimes, but prefer their own place rather than the Reaches. As far as the smell of power on you, it is evident to most magical beings that you have ancestry of a recent magical forebearer. I take it your mother or father have power as well?"

At Sammy's nod and answer of "My mother," Uther continues. "Then your grandmother or grandfather had a dalliance with a Djinn, for the blood is growing diluted. Your hatchlings may have the gift, but it will likely be too weak to be displayed in your grandchildren. Unless, of course, there is a new infusion of Djinn power, or possibly even augmented by another magically powerful individual."

He looks slyly over his shoulder at Donnie, and the young man blushes and turns away, clearing his throat. "Uther, be nice."

There is a moment of silence, and Sammy can assume there is some mental communication between the two and Donnie blushes even more furiously, closing his eyes.

Uther turns back to Sammy. "I have always thought highly of you, Mistress Samantha."

"I like you very much too, Uther" Sammy replies, trying to suppress a giggle at his matchmaking efforts.  "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were asking me for yourself.  A dragon!  And you can fly too!  I'm holding out for someone who can fly."  She strokes his cheek.  "I'm flattered.  And when I'm older, and start seriously thinking about such things, I'll remember your advice."