Amelia

GM Over the next few minutes, the shoreline descended into chaos as bystanders fought both to get away from the bay and to get a closer look. Emergency vehicles and black S.U.V.s gradually accumulated along the waterfront, their occupants managing the crowds as best they could. With the ship no longer on fire or in imminent danger of sinking, the captain of the Elizabeth Dane had no intention of leaving her, and his remaining crew, the ones who were still conscious and could still stand upright, followed his lead. They insisted on staying behind to repair water pumps and oil leaks, and to recover what cargo they could that had gone overboard while the hull was breached. The situation was still fraught with peril, but the crew's livelihoods were at stake. "We can just drop anchor until the Coast Guard is done sweeping the mines." If they were going to leave, they would take some serious convincing. Having no first aid to administer thanks to Sagrado Corazon's healing powers, and no floating bodies to retrieve, the two boat patrol cops spent most of their time on their radio. Eventually, they held it out toward the assembled heroes. "The mayor wants to talk to the Defenders." Even over the scratchy, static-ridden radio, Richenda Barker's voice was instantly familiar. "We're getting a lot of conflicting reports, but right now you're the only eyes and ears we have on the ground, so we need you to help us separate the signal from the noise. I can tell you on our end, Tallahassee and Washington are both taking this seriously as an act of domestic terrorism. The governor and Cahill's office have already been in touch. Every F.B.I. and Homeland Security agent in Florida is on their way here, along with half the agents in Georgia and Alabama. It'll take them a while to get here, but when they do, they're going to take the city apart looking for the Dreadnaut and any accomplices he might have. I'd like to have this whole thing resolved before then, but I know there's only so much even you all can do. The Navy is dispatching a mine sweeper, but it'll be a while before they get here either. And after the loss of the Disco Volante, the Coast Guard refuses to send in any more ships until they do. But they're setting up a perimeter at the mouth of the bay, and they're stripping down a chopper right now and loading it up with as many sonar buoys as it'll carry."

Dirge The blue-furred behemoth glared down his snout disdainfully at the corpses. "These are not the signs of BATTLE. These people were not SLAIN. They were BUTCHERED. EATEN. Set upon by some FOUL BEAST...or they TURNED upon each other in desperation. In MADNESS. They did NOT die like WARRIORS." "This reminds me of an old Fryxian legend, a TALL TALE the elders would tell around campfires to scare the lambs. The Og'd'nu. Once in a great while, a Fryxian WEAK of spirit would be CONSUMED by GREED or RAGE, and FORGET his HONOR and his HERD, forget ALL which made him FRYXIAN. In such FERTILE SOIL, a SEED would be planted, a DEMON who would POSSESS him. A voice whispering blasphemies into his ears, ROTTING him from the INSIDE, HOLLOWING him out, driving him BEYOND DELIRIUM AND DESPAIR. He would ABANDON his herd, to live as A CAT would, ALONE. He would retreat to the FARTHEST REACHES of Ku'unum, the lands where NOTHING grows in the ground, and he would...he would eat FLESH. TEAR it from the BONES of his victims with HIS OWN TEETH, while they still lived, while they SCREAMED. Having NO ONE to huddle with at night, he would RIP the fleece from his victims and WEAR IT as if it were HIS OWN. The demon would make him strong, but his hunger COULD NOT BE SATED, for when HE ate, THE DEMON WITHIN fed as well. To become such a DEGENERATE ABOMINATION was the WORST FATE imaginable, worse even than becoming its PREY. But to SLAY one...there was no GREATER GLORY."

Octoman Ben's swiftly-retracting tentacles launched him at the literal dogpile at full speed, and his body splattered flat against it like a lump of soft clay. He flexed his muscles to quickly reinflate, and then directed the attention of all of his hands, human and cephalopod alike, to petting and scratching the gigantic canine. "DOGGO!" The fur was so thick his hands disappeared into it. Two of his tentacles broke off from the affectionate assault to open up his backpack and rifle through the contents. "Lessee, don't got any PROPER doggo-treats, but you guys aren't picky, right? Just gotta find somethin' that won't KILL ya...there we go!" The tentacles emerged holding a peanut-butter flavored protein bar, which they carefully unwrapped and then offered to the dog. "OM NOM NOM TIME!" Ben's face followed his hands in vanishing inside the dog's fur as he hugged it with his entire body.

Persephone is using her Postcognition effect on the flowers.

For the record, while Strix's Phantasm Concealment effect normally requires a DC19 Will save to penetrate, but I have no problem with anyone who wants to notice him doing so without a roll.

Persephone "Charming. I wonder why that's even legal." "I don't know about...THAT...whatever he's done, he's still a human being. He still has rights, God-given AND under the law. But we are about to make life quite a bit less pleasant on his end, that's for sure." "I'm sorry, 'globe thing'? What are you two talking about? All I saw was, the ship was there one moment, and the next...there was nothing. Just fire." Persephone closed her eyes, bowed her head, and crossed herself. Then she pointed to the radio on the police boat. "I'm sure everybody already got the message, but just in case, y'all should put the word out. There's a lot of boats still in the water on our end, and it looks like they need to stay in the water for now. But it also looks like they can't risk moving around, not blindly anyway, not while there's apparently mines or torpedoes or something in the water. In the meantime, that ship," she pointed up at the Elizabeth Dane, "still isn't safe, not even with Woodsman putting out the fires and Cheval closing the hole, not with it leaning over like that. We need to finish getting everybody off. And it looks like we need somewhere else to put them..." She put her hands out in front of her, closed her eyes, and slowly raised her arms up over her head. An entire forest of seaweed erupted from the water and knit itself together tightly, forming a much larger version of the improvised raft she'd used to get out into the middle of the bay in the first place. "I know it may look flimsy, but it'll hold."

Persephone will use her Create Object effect to make a floating platform of plant matter next to the Elizabeth Dane. @RocketLord Do you want to get an IC post in for this "round" before the next GM post?

Dirge "EXCELLENT. The more hopeless the odds, the greater the tale!" The gulped down the remainder of his drink, and slammed his mug onto the table as a signal for the server to trade it out for another. "If you wish A DISTRACTION, I can PROVIDE a distraction. Fryxians are...CONSPICUOUS by nature. I can attempt INSTEAD to engage with STEALTH if you wish, but the SUCCESS of such an approach is UNLIKELY. Again, we are a CONSPICUOUS people. But my FIRST attack, they will NOT see coming, THAT I can GUARANTEE. My RANGE is CONSIDERABLE. Or I can wait for the Lor to teleport me inside before UNLEASHING MY MIGHT. Or I can launch my opening salvo from a distance, and THEN she can teleport me inside. I can attempt to PRESERVE the ship if you wish, or I can OBLITERATE it. I can attempt to COMMANDEER it, or I can use the ship ITSELF as a battering ram. My soul craves BATTLE. It cares not for the DETAILS."

Dirge The moment he had Starlok's permission, Dirge once more transformed his chair into a coiled chain and hoisted it over his shoulder. "I could take a bulkhead if you preferred, but I assumed you would want me to borrow one of the few pieces which would not compromise the structural integrity of the ship." The blue sheep-man's three fingers balled up into a triumphant fist, which he held up in front of his face. A rainbow of refracted light rippled in the air around the fist, and sparks danced along his skin. The fur on his hand stood up. "I have trained for MY ENTIRE LIFE to CONTROL the power that is MY BIRTHRIGHT as a Fryxian. To MASTER it." His fist unclenched, and the sparks and heat shimmer both vanished in an instant. "Your TOYS will not be harmed. Though if I wished OTHERWISE, there is no 'EMP hardening' IN THE GALAXY strong enough to WITHSTAND OUR MIGHT! THAT is why The Khan's LAPDOGS had to resort to such COWARDLY tactics to defeat us." "I have no objections. My only interest in this mission is THE GLORIOUS DEATH it may provide for me. Until such an opportunity presents itself, do whatever you wish."

Octoman Octoman turned back toward the man they'd rescued on the upper level. "OK, um...Hostage-Dude, just, like, hang out in the back and chill. We got this. Uh...don't touch anything!" Then he turned his attention to the rest of the room. "Hey Spectre," he shouted at the cages hanging above the pit, "Lemme know if your whole BAMF-POOF trick doesn't work and you need me to come rip the doors off or somethin'! OK, time to get the bird's-eye view! Or to find out what else Disco Stu electrified...either way, here goes nuthin'." His tentacles shot up toward the ceiling and out toward the other walls. The suckers lining the tentacles searched for places to stick, anchor points he could use to hoist himself up, zip along, and swing around, so he could look at the room from every angle, seeing, among other things, the tops of the cages and whatever was in the pit.

Octoman As the enormous fluffy dog ran down the school corridor, dragging Pan behind it, Ben's mouth slowly dropped open, and his eyes grew larger. They did not merely stretch farther open within their sockets. The eyeballs and their sockets literally grew larger, in all directions. He almost looked like a cartoon character. "...MAXIMUM FLOOF!" His tentacles sprouted forth from his forearms with a twin set of slurping noises. One at a time, they shot out down the hall, the suckers latching onto walls, ceilings, and lockers before retracting suddenly, pulling him forward. He whizzed by several of his fellow students, almost colliding with some of them. "'Scuse me! HELLO! Comin' through! DUCK! Class can wait, gonna ride the GIANT DOGGO! YO PAN, I GOT NEXT!"

Octoman can't roll a 22 on the 20-sided die, so he's sticking with his original result.

Dirge The Fryxian's relaxed, jovial demeanor evaporated as soon as the Pale Rider touched down. "COUNTESS. We have sailed into THE BELLY OF THE BEAST. From this moment onward, until this ship has been SECURED, we MUST assume a default state of DANGER. The DEFENSE of you and your crew is once more A PRIORITY. And I MUST have THE FULL RANGE of my abilities to MOUNT that defense." He held out a three-fingered hand toward the chair he'd been sitting in moments ago, but he did not activate his electromagnetic power. "By your LEAVE?" Dirge shook his massive head as his eyes scanned the alien corpses littering the ground. "A GREAT DOOM such as theirs should have been PRESERVED IN SONG. But there are NONE left to SING it. The TALE is LOST. To be FORGOTTEN is the ONLY TRUE DEATH."

Persephone Persephone touched the morgue assistant on the arm when she returned with the dead girl's effects. "Ah, thank you, Sweetie." She slid alongside Sagrado Corazon and peeked over the rim of the evidence box. "Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit, will you look at that. Excuse me, Pumpkin." She reached in past the young saint and picked up the garland. "Looks like I might be more than a bump on a log on this case after all. Sorry, I know I should wear gloves when handling evidence like this, but what I'm about to try requires more...intimacy." She turned away, lifted the garland to her face, closed her eyes, sniffed at it, gently thumbed one of the flowers, and whispered. "Hey there, Little Ones. You got any stories to tell? Can I see what you've seen?" She reached out with her mind to connect with the flowers, opening herself up to their memories, their experiences. Plants would often soak up the psychic resonance around them. For someone like Persephone, someone with the ability to tap into that stored resonance, every plant was potentially a surveillance camera attached to a very large hard drive. The green woman braced herself for what could, given the condition of the garland's former owner, be gruesome and traumatic images.

Octoman's opposed Bluff check: 34.

Potential PL8 rebuild. Character: Octoman Power Level: 13 (Built as PL8) Tradeoffs: None Power Points: 204/204PP Unspent Points: 0 ABILITIES 30PP Strength: 26/12 (+8/+1), 56/12 Lifting (Heavy Load: 58,880 lbs. [29.44 tons] / 130 lbs.) Dexterity: 26/14 (+8/+2) Constitution: 26/14 (+8/+2) Intelligence: 18 (+4) Wisdom: 14 (+2) Charisma: 18 (+4) COMBAT 12PP Initiative: +8/-2 (+8/+2 Dex, +4 Enhanced Improved Initiative, -4 Deafened) Attack: +8 Melee (+3 Base, +5 Attack Focus [Melee]), +3 Ranged (+3 Base) Grapple: +32/+10 vs one target, +28/+10 vs multiple targets (+8 Melee Attack, +8/+2 Strength/Dexterity, +4 Additional Limbs, +6 Elongation, +6 Super-Strength) Defense: +8 (+3 Base, +5 Dodge Focus), +2 Flat-Footed Knockback Resistance: 4/1 SAVING THROWS 6PP Toughness: +8/+2 (+8/+2 Con) Fortitude: +8/+2 (+8/+2 Con, +0PP) Reflex: +8/+2 (+8/+2 Dex, +0PP)Evasion 2 Will: +8 (+2 Wis, +6PP) SKILLS 72R = 18PP Acrobatics 3 (+15/+5)Skill Mastery Bluff 13 (+17)Distract, Fascinate, Second Chance, Skill Mastery, Taunt Computers 13 (+17)Online Research + Well-Informed, Second Chance, Skill Mastery, Ultimate Skill Craft (Electronic) 1 (+5) Disguise 0 (+5/+4, +10 or +50 with Morph) Escape 0 (+14/+2, Automatic with Insubstantial) Knowledge (Current Events) 6 (+10) Knowledge (Physical Sciences) 1 (+5) Knowledge (Pop Culture) 11 (+15) Knowledge (Technology) 6 (+10) Knowledge (Theology & Philosophy) 1 (+5) Languages 3 (American Sign Language [ASL], English [Native], Hebrew, Spanish) Notice 3 (+15/+5)Deafened Search 1 (+15/+5) Sleight of Hand 3 (+15/+5)Skill Mastery Stealth 3 (+15/+5) Swim 4 (+15/+5)Swimming FEATS 23PP Attack Focus (Melee) 5 Chokehold Distract (Bluff) Dodge Focus 5 Fascinate (Bluff) Grapple Finesse Luck 2 Online Research Second Chance 2 (Bluff, Computers) Skill Mastery (Acrobatics, Bluff, Computers, Sleight of Hand) Taunt Well-Informed Ultimate Skill (Computers) Enhanced: Environmental Adaptation (Underwater) Evasion 2 Improved Initiative Uncanny Dodge (Sense Types: Olfactory) POWERS 115PP Additional Limbs 4 (10 Limbs; Extras: Duration [Sustained]; Feats: Ambidexterity) [5PP] (Descriptors: Mutation, Retractable Tentacles) Concealment 2 (Normal Vision; Flaws: Blending, Passive) [1PP] (Descriptors: Mutation, Shapeshifting) Elongation 6 (Elongate 300ft per Move Action, 250ft Max, Free action to retract, 60ft Range Increments for elongated melee attacks; Flaws: Limited [Additional Limbs]) [3PP] (Descriptors: Mutation, Stretchy Tentacles) Enhanced Constitution 12 [12PP] (Descriptors: Mutation, Redundant Organs, Regeneration, Super-Toughness) Enhanced Dexterity 12 [12PP] (Descriptors: Mutation, Super-Agility, Super-Reflexes) Enhanced Feats 3 (Evasion 2, Improved Initiative) [3PP] Enhanced Skills 36 (Acrobatics 4, Disguise 1, Notice 10, Search 10, Sleight of Hand 4, Stealth 4, Swim 3) [9PP] (Descriptors: Mutation, Super-Agility, Super-Reflexes, Super-Senses) Features 2 (Environmental Adaptation [Underwater]; Internal Compartment) [2PP] (Descriptors: Mutation, Shapeshifting) Immunity 6 (Cold; Critical Hits; Poison; Pressure; Suffocation [Underwater]) [6PP] (Descriptors: Gills, Insulated Skin, Internal Network of Fluid Bladders & Siphons, Mutation, No Skeleton, Venom Glands) Insubstantial 1 (Feats: Subtle) [6PP] (Descriptors: Mutation, Shapeshifting) Morph 1 (Any Form; +5 Disguise) [3PP] (Descriptors: Mutation, Shapeshifting) Octopus Movement 2 (4PP Array, Feats: Alternate Power) [5PP] Base Power: [4PP] Leaping 4 (x25, Running Long Jump: 450ft) [4PP] (Descriptors: Biological Jet Propulsion, Mutation) Alternate Power: [4PP] Swimming 4 (25MPH, 250ft per Move Action; Can Take 10 on Swim checks) [4PP] (Descriptors: Biological Jet Propulsion, Mutation) Octopus Power 13 (26PP Array, Feats: Alternate Power 4) [30PP] Base Power: [14 + 12 = 26PP] Enhanced Strength 14 [14PP] (Descriptors: Mutation, Super-Strength) Super-Strength 6 (Lifting Strength: 56, Heavy Load: 58,880 lbs. [29.44 tons]) [12PP] (Descriptors: Mutation) Alternate Power: [22 + 4 = 26PP] Dazzle 8 (Sense Types: Olfactory + Visual; Flaws: Range [Touch]; Feats: Extended Reach 4 [25ft], Improved Critical 2 [18-20]) [22PP] (Descriptors: Ink Spray, Mutation) Obscure 2 (Sense Types: Olfactory + Visual; Area: 10ft radius; Extras: Independent, Total Fade [4 rounds]; Flaws: Limited [One Sense: Normal Vision], Range [Touch]) [4PP] (Descriptors: Ink Cloud, Mutation) Alternate Power: [24PP] Morph 8 (9; Any Form; +45 Disguise) [24PP] (Descriptors: Mutation, Shapeshifting) Alternate Power: [26PP] Paralyze 8 (Extras: Alternate Save [Fortitude], Secondary Effect; Feats: Improved Critical 2 [18-20]) [26PP] (Descriptors: Mutation, Pharyngeal Jaw, Proboscis, Venom) Alternate Power: [26PP] Snare 8 (Extras: Area [Type: Targeted, Shape: Cone], Engulf, Selective; Flaws: Duration [Concentration]; Feats: Chokehold, Progression [Area Size] 1 [25ft/rank = 200ft]) [26PP] (Descriptors: Mutation, Tentacles) Regeneration 7 (Recovery 1 [+9]; Recovery Rate: Injured 3 [1 minute], Staggered 1 [20 minutes], Disabled 2 [1 hour]; Feats: Regrowth) [8PP] (Descriptors: Mutation) Super-Movement 2 (Wall-Crawling 2 [Full Speed; Not Flat-Footed]) [4PP] (Descriptors: Mutation, Suckers) Super-Senses 6 (Acute Tracking Smell/Taste; Danger Sense [Sense Types: Olfactory]; Low-Light Vision; Microscopic Vision 1 [Dust]; Uncanny Dodge [Sense Types: Olfactory]) [6PP] (Descriptors: Mutation, Suckers) Abilities (30) + Combat (12) + Saving Throws (6) + Skills (18) + Feats (23) + Powers (115) - Drawbacks (0) = 204/204 Power Points

Octoman The first three letters of their names were about the only thing Benicio Wang had in common with Benjamin D'Amato. Between obsessively researching superheroes and consuming pop culture, getting off righteous hacks, and pwning noobs so hard they were afraid even to speak the name "@geckofan", there just weren't enough hours in the night, even if you didn't need sleep. And Ben did need sleep, far more than he tended to get on school nights. A more vain shapeshifter would have eliminated the dark bags and red rims from their eyes. But Ben found that it took less effort to create and maintain muscular configurations which were familiar and didn't stray too far from reality, and nothing was more familiar to him than the kid in the bathroom mirror looking tired. The fact that he wasn't actually wearing clothes, just making it look like he did, was becoming increasingly well-known on the Claremont campus, and his signature civilian outfit, a yellow and black zip-up hoodie, open over a white t-shirt dominated by a giant black gecko silhouette, with baggy blue jeans and slightly over-sized white high-top sneakers, was becoming increasingly familiar as his "default setting". Walking along the ceiling rather than the floor, as he did more often than not, he sluggishly strolled down the halls without a care as to whether he'd be late to class or not. If anything, he preferred to be fashionably late and make an entrance. He dropped down from the ceiling, popped the tab on a sixteen-ounce can of Blue Ox energy drink and chugged the whole thing. Then he hurled the empty can down into the trash bin next to him like he was dunking a basketball to score the game-winning point, and beat his chest as he sang off-key along to the music in his head that was already getting more difficult to remember, "AYYY AM ANNN INDESTRUCTIBLE MASTER OF WAAARRR!!!"

Mister Strix Lucy's voice snapped Guy out of his reverie. Why would the waitress want to join me? He was almost annoyed as he looked up, expecting to mesmerize her into forgetting he existed, when his eyes met a pair as black as his own, set into a face as inhumanly pale and flawless as his own. He was stricken as much by what wasn't there. He didn't hear a pulse sending delicious crimson nectar rushing like whitewater rapids through her veins. He didn't smell any sweat, no tangy mix of chemicals outlining her diet, health, and emotional state as if they'd been written up in a dossier. He neither heard nor smelled the exhalation of the tiny clouds of carbon dioxide that usually lit up his potential prey like a Christmas tree. It was cold at this table, but there was no slight shiver from her like there had been from the waitress who took his order. This one didn't mind the cold. That alone should have clued me in. Distracted. Sloppy. The woman stood almost a full foot shorter than Guy, but he was starting to suspect that the size difference wouldn't matter in the slightest if they came to blows. Some few mortals were strong-willed enough to resist his power, few enough that it was a surprise every time. But Guy grew increasingly suspicious as to whether or not this woman was one of them, or something else altogether. "No. I can't promise I'll be good company, but I don't mind. Not that it would matter if I did. I saw you chatting with the owner. Not the manager. The fond way she looks at this place, the tender care with which she handles every glass, it suggests a sense of emotional investment beyond punching a time clock. No, she loves this club, like it was her own child. And the easy familiarity you two demonstrated implies family, or long-term friendship close enough that it's a distinction without a difference. You have the run of the place. If your desires did run counter to my own, yours would win out. So...what are those desires?"

Mister Strix Adriana liked jazz. The memory of his widow's musical tastes hit Gaetano Giordano as soon as he walked by the club, before he could swat it aside. He was bereft of his usual distractions. He'd fed recently, and while the red thirst could never be truly sated, it was as close as it ever came, and it would leave him alone for at least a little while. His involuntary blood donors had been the last unbroken link in the chain of human traffickers based in Freedom City who had reached into his home town for product like wayward children reaching into a cookie jar before dinner. It wasn't the first syndicate of slavers to move product from Bedlam City to here, and like its predecessors, Guy was sure that he hadn't reached the top floor. But as before, whoever had ultimately been pulling the strings did too thorough a job of insulating themselves from discovery, even against someone who could see the world in a drop of blood. He just had to hope he'd done enough damage to discourage and delay future ventures. He had contacts in Freedom. Several local superheroes had found themselves in Bedlam from time to time, and when they'd crossed paths, the results were always productive, if not cordial. He'd briefly considered reaching out to those contacts, both before and after he'd concluded his business here. But it hadn't proven necessary, and unnecessary social interaction wasn't something he made much time for these days. If Dead Head had been available for this "business trip", then he'd already be home. But since he lacked his ally's ability to teleport between graveyards, he'd had to travel by more conventional means, keeping him away from his home town for longer than he'd have liked even before he'd become a supernatural creature notoriously for being fiercely territorial. You should just keep walking. Don't dwell, move on...but...but...She's probably in a place just like this right now. With her new husband. No, not "new", they've been together almost as long as you were...just new to you. Because the world doesn't stop spinning just because you closed your eyes. Hell with it. The train doesn't leave until tomorrow, whether you spend the rest of the night in your hotel room or not. The future won't get here any faster, doesn't matter if you're waiting in the present or the past when it does. The man who walked into Chester's was unnaturally pale. Not merely sickly, he would have been considered an extreme case even by the standards of albinism, if the darkest eyes and the messy mop of black hair adorning his scalp didn't render that condition an impossibility. He was tall and lean, his face all sharp angles with a prominent nose that wouldn't look out of place on a statue of a Roman emperor. He wore a black shirt under his white business suit, and that contrast was the only thing making it clear where his alabaster skin ended and the fabric of the suit began. The parts of the club he passed through became noticeably colder. Windows and glasses and bathroom mirrors fogged up. He tried to avoid the holiday decorations mounted everywhere, but he came too close to one, and the flowers in it wilted and dried up instantly. But few people in the club noticed any of this strangeness consciously enough to comment on it, or to connect it with the man in white. In fact, most of them didn't notice him at all, thanks to the psychic signal he broadcast suggesting they ignore and forget him, a feat that had long ago become second-nature for him. Even if they didn't connect the environmental oddities with him, anyone with a will strong enough to ignore his mental suggestion might still pick up on the strangeness of the man himself. They might notice that his shoes didn't make a sound when he walked to his table, or that he didn't have a shadow, that he barely blinked or that his chest didn't rise and fall rhythmically, that watching him sit was like watching a statue that moved but only when you looked away from it. The club was an assault on his superhuman senses. The dozens of different types of liquor behind the counter and the perfumes and colognes clinging to each patron's skin all burned his nose as if the bottles were an inch from his face. His ears caught every whisper, every heartbeat. The lights were dim to human eyes, but for him, they may as well have been road flares. When he took an empty seat, he excluded the nearest server from his field of light mesmerism so that she could take his order, "A glass of the Recioto della Valpolicella, please," an order delivered with perfect pronunciation of the Italian, in a voice far too deep and resonant for a man of such a slight build. Her favorite. When the waitress asked to see his identification, his coal-black eyes penetrated hers like twin invisible needles, injecting a tiny false memory into her mind. "You already did." After the red wine arrived, he tipped his glass to his lips and sipped it, but he didn't swallow it. He didn't want to ruin anyone else's evening by vomiting a liter of blood onto the floor. And the wine hit his tongue just in time for him to taste the moment when it turned to vinegar, aging decades in an instant. He discreetly let it slide back out of his mouth and into the glass. Happy Valentine's Day, Bella.

Persephone's Reflex save: 30. Her plants are slappin' aside some creepy babies.

Persephone's Notice check: 18. Nerp.

Octoman If there was a filter between the betentacled young man's surface thoughts and the spoken words accompanying his frantic gesturing, Miss Grue couldn't sense it. "WAIT wait wait, hold the freakin' PHONE here, all engines FULL reverse. YOU know MY roomie? You're, like, his MENTOR? He never told ME about that! He hasn't mentioned your name ONCE. Man, him and me, I thought we had a BOND. Just 'cause you're a GRUE and he's, like Grue-INFECTED or something, and the whole reason I became a superhero in the first place is 'cause a buncha Grue almost ATE me and my whole family when I was seven and OK yeah I hear it now." "Oh YEAH, HEY, speaking of, so, like, I'm not flying solo this time. I came here with another Claremont kid, one who's from AROUND HERE, who's got some serious SKIN in this game, feel me? And we hitched a ride with The Big Kahuna, top brass, MAXIMUS! MAXIMUS! MAXIMUS! but, like, with GILLS, know what I'm sayin'? We're doin' the Kansas City Shuffle, everyone's lookin' right, I went left, and when everyone else is lookin' right, it's Conan The Fishbarian and my squaddy they're lookin' at. The beacons are LIT, Gondor's callin' for aid, let's go outside and get our ROHAN on!"

Anyone who can make a DC20 Notice check can read the spoiler text here.

GM While the assembled heroes rescued the Elizabeth Dane and her crew, they could see a handful of new ships speeding into the bay, directly toward them. A quick glance through one of the several pairs of binoculars aboard the little fleet the heroes had cobbled together revealed them to be a Coast Guard coastal patrol cutter, less than one-seventh the size of the Elizabeth Dane, with hull markings identifying it as the Disco Volante. Two boats less than half its size followed a few hundred feet behind. When the Disco Volante was a little over a quarter of a mile away from the Elizabeth Dane, lightning seemed to strike again. There was a flash of light as bright as the Sun, a thunderous *BOOM*, and the ship exploded, consumed in a gigantic ball of fire. The two smaller boats that had been following it broke off to either side as they gradually came to a stop. After a few moments, they turned around and sped back out toward the open ocean. The radios on the two commandeered motorboats and on the Elizabeth Dane, the radios on every boat in the bay, every radio in the city began broadcasting a repeating message from a deep, echoing voice which sounded electronically altered. "VIBORA BAY NOW BELONGS TO THE DREADNAUT. ANY VEHICLE ATTEMPTING TO ENTER OR LEAVE THE BAY WILL BE DESTROYED. I WILL RELINQUISH CONTROL OF THE BAY IN EXCHANGE FOR A RANSOM OF ONE HUNDRED MILLION DOLLARS PAID TO THE FOLLOWING CRYPT0CA$H ACCOUNT: 3FZBGI29CPJQ2GJDWV8EYHUJJNKLTKTZC5. VIBORA BAY NOW BELONGS TO THE DREADNAUT. ANY VEHICLE ATTEMPTING TO ENTER OR LEAVE THE BAY WILL BE DESTROY-" Another message was broadcast on a different frequency, less far-reaching than the Dreadnaut's, confirming the loss of the Disco Volante and all ten of its crew members. The Dreadnaut now appeared to be not just an extortionist, but a mass-murderer.

Persephone "You do what you need to do, Sugar Plum. She'll hold." "Toi aussi!" the green woman shouted after the metal man. She chuckled when the young saint climbed aboard her improvised seaweed raft the moment Cheval vacated it. "Waste not, want not. Hey there, Guapito, welcome aboard." Persephone's smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "We'll get there. We're singin' from the same hymnal." She released her grip on the kelp-fronds she had been using to steer the raft, and began a series of fluid gestures in the air around her. In response, bloated ropes of seaweed sprang up from the water and lashed back down again, probing the patches of oil around the ship that had been burning until The Woodsman's cryo-bolts neutralized the chemical reaction. The seaweed ropes wrapped around the floating bodies like octopus tentacles, lifted them out of the water, and deposited them into what little empty space could be found on the two motorboats Betsy and The Woodsman had commandeered. She was about to start growing medicinal flowers from her own flesh when the halo appeared around Sagrado Corazón and the sailors' wounds started knitting themselves closed. "Now THAT's teamwork. Great job, Corazón."