Raveled

The connection went smoothly and soon Ironclad was speeding-reading the Preserver-English dictionary, screen flashing past too fast for anyone to follow -- unless, like her, they had a distinctly abnormal mind. Thirty-two words for stars, she noted with approval. Clearly connoisseurs. The conversation gloated past her, a small piece of her mind monitoring it for anything she needed to comment on. Like an order to muster for inspection, or a communique from the captain. She blinked rapidly as her brain down-shifted to conversational levels. She punched the button to listen to the captain's message, and while it unspooled she began stowing her tools away and bundling wires back inside the shell of her armor. It wouldn't do to meet a foreign dignitary with half the guts of the suit hanging out, now would it?

Liz nodded in sympathy. "It is the same everywhere. If I was sitting here with Equinox or someone like that, I would likely not have dares to try and explain about the Light. Such a person would know so much more about it than I do, that to try and explain it would be an insult to them." She took a swallow of her coffee and began to wish that she'd ordered a sandwich or something. "So do you ever think you will go back to the United Kingdom one day?"

Doctor Who predicts the future once again.

"I might be able to get the floorplans," Ironclad said. "City hall's a wonderful tool. But when I go walking in through the front door, I'm going to need some help. I'm pretty bright, but psychology is not my field." She turned to Geckoman, addressing the mohawked hero directly. "All I can do is quote Wikipedia articles verbatim, and that won't get me far with experts. I don't know how much you've studied it, but I'm guessing that you can hold your own in a psychotherapy discussion better than I can. Want to be a Lab intern for a day?"

Vogue wants to know, how does Dragonfly stay so light and slim in her armor?

Hecate and Wellspring are on the dance floor; Hecate's bound up in mobile rivers of water. Bonnie Blue, Rolling Thunder, and Sage are over by the entrance; Bonnie and Thunder are both on their backs and not looking too good. Lord Steam, Last Loyal Solider, Young Britannia, and Asad are all over by the bar; Steam's taken a few hits and YB is on the ground. Zippy got punched back into the kitchen and Victory can't see him from where he's standing. Ironclad and the Ghost of the Confederacy are hovering over the action. Need any of that clarified?

Well, the mass combat rules don't really have options for running groups as minions.

Ini for the Rifle Mooks. (1d20+1=4, 1d20+1=14, 1d20+1=20, 1d20+1=20, 1d20+1=4, 1d20+1=8, 1d20+1=15, 1d20+1=3)

GM The door popped out of the frame whole, like a movie prop, and Wail was inside. He'd chosen the right apartment; the living room wall was gone, a hole blasted in it from floor to ceiling. Several men in what looked like padded vests and moon boots, all in a blue and white pattern, were crowding the room. They all held futuristic-looking rifles and most of them were keeping the Desmaris family at bay, but the hero could see two of them manhandling a struggling Lamont to the hole! As Wail watched, the interlopers flung the kid of into the open air. He flew into the shimmer -- and abruptly disappeared. It looked like bad CGI, but the earsplitting educator had seen enough weirdness in his time to recognize it as some kind of invisibility spell or cloaking device. Whatever it was, the fog moved off as soon as it had Lamont, leaving Wail facing eight leveled rifles.

Nothing to really find at the moment, unless you had something in mind to search for.

Victory's up.

This thread has been dormant for too long1

GM Wail made his careful way down the the stairwell of the apartment building. Lamont was in a trick situation all right; he's lied to his parents, gone behind their collective back to engage in an activity he knew they didn't approve of. At the same time though, the boy had undeniable talent and drive. It would be a shame if he was discouraged from following his talent where it led him. Outside it was a mild evening and Wail stopped to enjoy it. Suddenly, the evening calm was shattered by a tremendous explosion. It shattered windows, set off car alarms, and cause debris to rain down on the street. Wail looked up an saw a ragged hole in the building, just where the Desmaris apartment was. The hero could see something hovering there outside the hole; it was more of a shimmer in the air than a definite shape, hard to make out against the night sky, but it looked like an honest-to-God flying saucer.

That hits her just fine! Bonnie Blue's Will save, vs DC 30. (1d20+7=13) And Bonnie's out of it.

Don't you love those conversations? "Oh and dear, you're helping your grandfather move this weekend." "... I am?"

Hydrophobic proofing for everything from clothes to glass to plastic.

Jessica took the computer from the captain, turning it over and over in her hands like a new toy. There was a blaze of light and when it faded Ironclad was standing there, studying the alien device intently. After a moment the suit's helmet folded back to reveal Jessica's blonde head. She rotated one writs and several short, metallic rods popped out; she plucked them free and set them on the table, next to the interface. The chestplate rose up slightly, exposing the wiring and circuitry underneath, and Jessica pulled out a long cat-5 cable. With deft motions she stripped off the head and exposed the bare wires. Before long she was using the slender rods (which unfolded into all manner of tools, like a magician's trick) to try and forge a connection between her armor and the interface.

The girl sprang forward, moving so fact she was just a blur. Starlight felt several light impacts on her chest and glanced down just as the woman reappeared next to the giant. The heroine blinked once and moved her hand in a short arc. A thin beam of focused light sprang out, slicing across the intervening space and leaving a thin, charred line across the speedy woman. "Some advice," Starlight offered. "Hurting someone is as important as hitting them."

In the bathroom, Liz Moya finished transforming into Starlight. The aline heroine appeared in a blaze of light, banishing the evening murk with a point source of light that melted the lingering shadows. She took a deep breath, swept her gaze over the scene, and let it all out in a disappointed huff. It seemed like the other heroes already had the situation well in hand and didn't really need her. She kept a frown off her face -- she'd really been hoping to vent her frustration on some hapless criminals -- and walked over tot he heroine in the hazmat suit. "Is everyone alright," she asked. "Is anyone injured?"

Starlight took in the hallways crowded with armed men in the blink of an eye. The situation was almost humorous, looked at from a certain angel; she could produce Elizabeth Moya at the drop of a hat -- or Mayor O'Conner, or Lady Liberty, or just about anyone else on Earth if she wanted to. All it would take would be revealing her secret to the world. Space. She needed space. The heroine gestured and a wall of solid light appeared between her and the SWEAT team, blocking them off better than a brick wall. Without a moment's hesitation she bolted for the emergency stairwell at the end of the hall. With luck, there would only be one team in the building.

Starlight's ranged attack check w/ +2/-2 Accurate Attack, vs. Fast Girl's Def. DC 23 Toughness (1d20+12=31) Tempted to spend a HP on Improved Crit, but I doubt that'll be necessary.

Brought into the Light'd 11/13/2011 Starlight I lied. Sue me. :arrow: 2 points into Skills, boosting Disguise by 8 ranks. Gonna max that out eventually! :arrow: Shuffled points around in powers; swapped out Teleportation for a rank of Flight, grabbed another couple of APs in her White Light Array, grabbed some Immunities, lost a rank of Quick Change. Brought into the Light'd 11/13/2011

If Protecton's always getting folks fruit baskets, then what do we get Protectron? :P

Starlight's Toughness save, vs DC 17. (1d20+10=22) She seriously has a rank 2 Damage effect?

Jessica shrugged carelessly. "Supercape's usually sussing some sub-atomic structure or particle," she said, "and Miss A's working on a set-up to bridge damaged areas of the brain, last I checked. Right now I believe she'd working with a stroke victim on the medical level. Dragonfly's stuff is usually beyond me," she admitted, "But I father she's working on some kind of wormhole projector. Not really my field, you know?" Jessica opened a particular door and lead Jasmine into a chemistry lab. Around them were all the tools of the trade; centrifuges, hoods for mixing noxious concoctions, and chemical showers on every wall. There were several glass-doored cabinets with ranks of laboratory equipment, and others with carefully labeled and stopped glass vials of different chemicals. There were even a couple of isolation booths against the interior wall, where the operator was safely protected behind bullet-proof glass and operated everything via waldos. The young inventor jumped up onto a nearby table and perched there, watching Jasmine move around the space. "Right now, my pet project is suit of overalls that let the wearer lift a car," she said. "I think I'm getting pretty close to a wearable model."