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"See? Nagging! This is why we can't be together! That, and I might get mind-blasted as I slumber peacefully..." Chris looked thoughtful as he tapped some controls on his remote. Soon the egg-shaped green airship that was the Pitchoo swooped in and landed in front of the group, the walkway folding down with a soft hisssss. "This, Faith, is the Ptychozoon!" declared Geckoman, spreading his arms wide. "Better known as the Pitchoo. It flies, it shoots things, it flies some more and then... well, it has a coffee machine somewhere."

"Clever child. Clever." Geckoman went to lunge forward, but Fear-Master lifted his gauntlet. "No. You won't escape due to tricking me. I'm not an idiot. And you're just as vulnerable to me as anyone else, costume or not." A high-pitched sound started ringing through Geckoman's ears. His vision blurred as shapes started appearing and voices started whispering. "SEE? YOU ARE NOTHING TO ME? NOTHING!" boomed Fear-Master's deep, demonic voice as the hellfire blazed in his eyes and his face loomed to fill all of Geckoman's vision. Terrified, Chris fled into the darkness. A spectral, grey vision of Liz stood before him. You didn't save me. All the legions of Hell, and you didn't save me. Demonic figures were tearing at her, ripping out her throat, her eyes, her guts. WHY DIDN'T YOU!? "Wasn't time... too many... Please..." They killed me. You let it happen. YOU MADE IT HAPPEN. "No... not true!" Tears in his eyes, he backed away and turned. She was still there. FAILURE. Lunging into the darkness, trying to escape, Geckoman crashed through the window, ghosts screaming in his ears and phantom demons shredding his flesh as he plummetted into the night.

His moment of cockiness was brief. A lucky shot hit him square in the gut, sending him falling to the floor. With a thud, he landed among the knife-wielding toughs, feeling two knives pierce his flesh among all the fumbling in the dark. Forcing his head up, he saw the thugs backing off as Rick aimed the gun at him. Ah well... it's been good, fellas! There were gunshots. Then stabbing, agonising pain as it all blacked out. Geckoman awoke tied to a chair in a darkened room. He coughed, spitting out teeth and blood. "Ah, you're awake. You already know who I am, just as I know who you are and that you were after me." A white mask appeared in the blackness. "Stupid child. You think I'd let you run around and figure out my plans? Slim Rick was a good find. Cash keeps him loyal. His experience makes him invaluable." "Well, those Army boys do get lonely on the front lines," managed Geckoman, trying to avoid looking Fear-Master in the eye. Well, I'm not dead. For now. I find the villain, then he kills me. That's how it works. He gloats, then tortures me to death. "Guess it's that hard for you to find a date, you need a hire guys, huh?" Fear-Master just laughed in the kid's face. "Amusing. Even alone in the dark, helpless and tied up, you fight back. For nothing, I might add." C'mon, keep him talking. TRY! "Well, it wouldn't be for nothing if I knew what it was? Hell, you kill me and succeed, who's left to know the glory of your plan? You? C'mon, is that honestly as satisfying knowing someone else knew your plan, and still failed?" Geckoman started fighting his bonds, seeing that look in Fear-Master's eye. Monologue. I can escape these goddamn ropes! "You see, through my genius, I found the exact frequency of sound needed to produce fear. Now, my only real limit is range. If I hijack a radio station, however... well, how much of the city falls under my influence? Even a few seconds is enough. A few minutes, when I seize the station... well, they may be affected permanently. The wonder is? Controlling the building, anyone who tries to stop me will be confronted with my fear weaponry broadcast on the building's speakers! Fool-proof! And the one person who had even begun to track me down? Tied... up..." Geckoman stood up from the chair, ropes falling off him.

Pistol Thugs - 12 Knife Thugs - 16, delayed Geckoman - 1 HP - 10 - Bruised x2, Injured x2 Slim Rick - 7 - Bruised Cosh Thugs - 6 Round the Fourth: 2 shots hit, 1 fails miss chance. Geckoman fails by 10, and plummets to the floor. Now Disabled, and Stunned, and Prone, the knives only need 5 to hit him. So, all hit. 3 get past concealment. He fails by 7, then 4, for 4 injuries and a second round of stunning! And Rick will now shoot him while he's down! Hitting by 6, the DC 23 save is failed enough to leave Geckoman dying. ... did all that, then realised Concentration to maintain Wall-Crawling. Erm... Fiat! Now, how long is he tied up? Long enough for plot to stop him being Staggered + Disabled! He's still heavily Injured though. (Rolling swiftly, he ceases being unconscious technically in a minute, although plot keeps him under. 3 hours and he's not Disabled, due to poor rolling. Another 20 minutes, he's not Staggered. So... half the night) Now... with Skill Mastery, Fear-Master needs a 19 to resist monologuing. And rolls 11 Meanwhile, Geckoman will spend his 2 minutes using Escape Artist (take 20). EDIT: Yeah, the uber-hallucinations are also Fiat. So Geckoman has 3 HPs, 4 Bruises, 4 Injuries, and is now having the worst night of his life.

Ok, since there's so damn many, screw using IC Geckoman starts with his customary 2 HP. Slim Rick's the PL 6 Agent from Instant Superheroes, with an assault rifle. The Thugs are in groups of 5: 5 with light pistols, 5 with clubs, 5 with knives. (i.e. Blast 3, Strike 2, Strike 1, although the clubs aren't lethal). They're Minions. Knife Thugs - 16 Pistol Thugs - 12 Geckoman - 2 HP - 10 Slim Rick - 7 Cosh Thugs - 6 Round 1: Geckoman starts off flat-footed. The knife thugs delay until after the pistols. Thankfully, only one hits. Geckoman gets 14, failing by 4 for a Bruise and Injury. Then... knifes. All five hit. Pass by 5, pass by 2, pass by 3, pass by 1... and pass by 5. Dammit, can't I get my own PC killed. Retaliation! Swing up to the lights using a grapple line, then kick it out. Miss chance of 17 for those without infravision Rick rolls a 3 anyway, as the thugs with coshes circle him. Round 2: Only 2 pistols hit, and don't miss due to concealment. Geckoman fails the second shot by 6, taking another Injury and being forced to spend a HP to avoid falling from the roof. He swings across to plunge the room into darkness with the second light, upping concealment to 11+ Which is good, since Rick hits by 7, for a DC 23 save with only a +5 bonus. And promptly fluffs his miss chance. Hurray! Round 3: All shots miss. Taunt! DC 26 as a move action. Rick fails. And is promptly shot. The DC 21 save is failed by 5, knocking Rick to the floor and Bruising him.

The gunfire started immediately, Geckoman barely dodging two bullets as he was caught off guard. However, the third shot caught him in the shoulder, sheer luck causing the following two shots to miss as he staggered back. However, Geckoman had no time to retaliate as five toughs with knives closed in. With no room to dodge, he resorted to rolling with the assault, sliding blades off Kevlar and ignoring any minor nicks as they closed up swiftly. Seeing no way to win a straight-up fight, the teen jumped straight up, firing a grapple line to swing up and kick out one of the two lights. The room plunged into dimness as one strip light tried to fill the whole bar, and failed. The biker, known as Slim Ricky (due to his bulky frame), hefted his assault rifle and aimed at where the light had just gone out. The barrage of shots missed as Geckoman scrabbled along the ceiling, watching the thugs circle Rick to defend him from an assault in the dark. However, his momentary sense of satisfaction faded as two pistols found their mark, one softened by his costume, the other punching deep into his stomach. OUCH! Forcing himself to move, the other light was promptly kicked out. Infravision, don't fail me now. A stream of assault rifle shells shredded the roof just inches from Geckoman's head as Rick fired wildly. He can't see me properly. I can see him. "C'mon, Rick! Thought you were ex-Marine! Where's your aim?" Stifling a laugh at Rick's swearing, Geckoman fired a bolt of energy at the criminal, knocking him flat on his back. Still shouting obscenities at the superhero in the dark, Rick got to his feet as his men kept firing. Despite the constant sound of gunfire, no more shots found their mark. "What's the matter, guys? Not eat enough carrots?"

"My dream? Honey, if I wanted him, I could have him. No offence to Alex, of course." "Now are we all agreed that letting Mark fly and get where responsible adults can't supervise him is a bad idea," grinned Chris, trying to inject some levity since Faith looked worried.

Arrowhawk was already heading towards the door, collapsing his staff and replacing it in his sporran. "Even if he thinks it's over, I'm suiting up and going to the roof. They could teleport in, making a guard useless, but they might not and why take a chance. Taylor, you should monitor for any magical activity so they don't get the drop in." He paused at the door and turned around. "Sorry about your wedding day." John turned back and opened the doors.

I personally don't care. I don't mind altering the Most Wanted characters nearly as much as I'd mind altering the 'core' Freedom City NPCs.

Nope, not Hawk :P

"Dammit, dude. Now you return to consciousness!?" sighed Geckoman, kicking off the wall as he fired the swingline again to move towards the portal. "Right, you get through, I'll go grab some slave dudes." He ran towards the group and went to herd them towards the portal. "We stopped the metal dude, get through that portal or you'll all die a horrific, fiery death. No pressure though."

Wrap it.

"Meh. Our attempts at getting him killed usually fail," said Chris, squinting up at the sky. "I somehow doubt this'll work." A thought popped into your head and he grinned evilly. "Reckon Mark's gonna be so quick to look all mushy when he's getting caught?"

Chris appeared from the house in green swimming shorts, shaking his head at Mike's ass stick. "Dude, set an example? Does alcohol even affects most of us? Heck, I can't drink caffeine due to my system clearing it out so quickly. I choose to set the example of responsible use!" He stopped beside the group. "Anyway, if it's not powers-only tomorrow, how you explaining the lack of cold? Patio heaters?"

Then water gets in his eyes when he swims :(

Reflex (1d20+7=13) Frick! HP re-roll! Again! (1d20+7=24)

Geckoman rolled into a crouch to avoid the flames as they incinerated the drones, feet and hands holding him fast on the catwalk to avoid falling off the catwalk as it it lurched towards the lava. Hothothothothot... I'm not falling in that! He scrabbled towards Mark, grabbing his friend around the waist and hefting him up in a strong grip. With the other arm, he flicked his wrist in a certain way, switching the zapper barrel from the electric battery to a compressed grapple cord. "Hey, Steelgrave! I don't die that easily!" He fired the grappling line and swung, Mark in tow, away from the collapsing walkway.

There is a Gecko-pimp hat, I doubt there's not Gecko-trunks!

"Struggle to fit in? Dude, what? It's the size of a schoolbus, it's not my fault you insist on having so much room. If you're so unwilling to fit in, I've got a grapple line I could fix to the rear, and you could dangle from it spreading music to the slightly bemused and terrified masses."

I'm not the only one who remembers its existance!

"Look, we'll just call down the Pitchoo again. Then it's kinda obvious who's to blame for taking you all of of campus." Chris flashed a smile as he whipped out the remote. "Besides, it's hardly the biggest rules breach I've done yet. In the past week." "Also, showing off my baby to new people is fun. Don't take that from me."

Geckoman strode straight past the bouncer at Dino's and into the bar. The place was slightly classier than the last joint, but full of nasty-looking types. A grey-haired biker with a vicious scar on his face. A barman with steely, glaring eyes. Shady men in corners playing poker and whispering. "Get me Slim Ricky! And a virgin daiquiri!" declared Geckoman. I am so getting knifed. Again. It hurts. Always. Ick. The muttering suddenly ceased as a whole room of criminal scum looked at Geckoman and went for their knives, pistols and coshes. "Seriously, guys. Get me him, and no trouble. Why do I always have this issue! Everyone picks fights in these places! All I want is Ricky. And possibly the drink." The barman glared. "Get out of here, cape." He spat on the floor as he came from around the bar, shotgun in hand. "You're just some kid. Go get a grown-up, maybe we'll talk." "Blah, blah. Listen, all of you lower your guns. I'll just leave, and get suggested 'grown-ups'. More 'capes'. You want that?" The barman just laughed. "Kid, they're not going to listen to an idiot rookie like you. Don't mess with us. I'll just-" He fell silent as the scarred biker raised a hand. "No. You can tell he ain't listening." He spun, grabbing a bulky object from under his table and raising at Geckoman. "Who lets an assault rifle into a pub!?" "GET HIM!"

"Look, man! I dun't know about no Fear-Master!" The gang leader was constantly eyeing Hugo's unconscious form nervously. "Ok, Ok, maybe I was too specific, not everyone is well-versed in criminal lore. Including, apparently, criminals. Who knew?" Geckoman turned to the gang leader. "Guy needed to hire you for some work, maybe not too specific on the details. Yet you said no, cos he was scary. Not to be ashamed, that is his whole gimmick, should really be good. Hell, for not hiring on, you did the smart thing. Darkened rooms, white hockey mask? Ring, ring, tiny bells!" After the usual :? look given after a Gecko-rant, the Cobra thought, fingers tracing the white snake tattoo on his neck. "Yeah, we did have a guy like that last week. Money after job, no questions asked. Thing is, man, we don't know where is he is! We said no! Why hassle me!?" Geckoman thudded the table, hard. "How did he contact you?" "Slim Ricky, ex-Marine. Apparently the pension wasn't good enough, so he works for the big-time crooks. Selling out the Marines, the asshole." The green detective had already moved towards the window, and perched on the ledge. "Says the cheap thug. Where can I reach him?" "Dino's, three blocks away. Now, c'mon, leave us alone after this, what did we do to you?" To this, Geckoman looked contemplative. "Made me need to resist making jokes about Whitesnake. Seriously, White Cobras?" As the tough drew up angrily, the kid leapt from the sill, laughing merrily.

For a kid clad in bright green and yellow, Geckoman somehow managed to stay hidden as he scuttled along the side of the cheap Fens dive bar. Frequented by some skinheads calling themselves 'White Cobras'. Tough guys. Scared of a Freddy Krueger rip-off. He crawled up and onto the roof, to peer from above into the manager's office. Then he pushed off with his feet, spinning around to crash through the window, and come up with his feet on the roof of the dingy grey room. The manager, a small, greasy-looking man yelled in fear, before looking with some scorn at the kid in green spandex. "Whaddya want kid, you even of drinking age?" Geckoman laughed as he let himself drop to the floor. "You really concerned about that? Hah, my ass. You let 'em in and then rip 'em off. Now, what I want is the Cobra leader, not cheap beer." "Really? They don't need no capes in their affairs. HUGO!" A huge brute holding a baseball bat burst into the room. "Escort this... kid... from the building." Geckoman just grinned and tilted his head. "Cute couple." He sidestepped a powerful blow, shock knuckles folding from his zappers into gently buzzing knuckledusters. "Y'know, it's nice to see love blossom in your business." Hugo grunted and swung his fist at Geckoman... ... who wasn't there, instead having dropped to a crouch and punched the giant in the knee, quickly springing up to smash the shock knuckles into Hugo's stomach. The combined force of the strike, the jump and the high voltage sent the unfortunate tough crashing into the back wall. "Ok, Mr Tough Guy," sighed Geckoman. "You want to talk? See, as you can tell, I like to talk, and sooner you do, sooner you don't have me in your office going blah blah blah blah while taking down your hired muscle. Oh, stop looking shocked, it's Freedom City, expect these things. At least I'm not Raven. Another night, it might be her working the case, not me. She's nasty, I'll generally ask a question then get snarky, then resort to violence." The club owner just nodded dumbfoundedly. "I'll... erm... call him up."

Lieutenant Richard Giordano was having a rough night. He'd had drunks, thugs, gangs, even a couple of mobster types brought in. Then the squealer had come in, with word of this. And the Raven was busy, so he'd had to call in the second best thing. Geckoman. The kid meant well, heck, he wasn't half bad. He just wasn't the Raven and he just. Didn't. Shut. Up. "So, Detective G. You look busy with your bundle of paperwork, so not gonna waste your time. What'd you need me for, cos I guess it's going to be something weird, it's always these things the specialists are too busy to make time for," he was saying, reclined in the chair in front of his desk, huge coffee cup in one hand, doughnut in the other. "Like that time with the cow-" "OK," said Giordano loudly, cutting the teen hero off. "You know we've got snitches. They tell us stuff, we let them off a bit lighter. Not ideal, but we deal with it." Geckoman leaned forward in his chair, showering crumbs onto a report. Giordano struggled to keep his temper. Why did he need to get his life saved by him? "Apparently some creepy guy's been recruiting toughs. Not too notable in this city, but it adds up with some things." "Fear-Master escaped last week," said the portly Lieutenant, thumping the table in frustration. "And the snitch seemed scared as hell. Never saw the guy's face, just heard a 'scary voice' and saw a white mask in shadows. Supervillains," he tutted, rolling his eyes. "Wait, why didn't I hear about this?" said Geckoman quizzically, raising an eyebrow. "Well, kid, we don't want people scared. That's what Blume wants, we ain't gonna give it to him on a silver platter." He reached into a drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper. "Here's a couple of gangs who apparently were too scared of him, and screw any reward. Don't blame 'em. Find him, 'cos he's up to something and we don't want it."