Raveled

The giant stood there for a moment, glassy eyed and staring, until the superheroine's blue-edged blast slammed into his chest. He turned to Dragonfly and his eyes glowed electric-blue for a moment, then the power transferred to his arms. He raised one heavy limb and sent a bolt of lightning shooting at the heroine, which slammed into her shields and melted enough of the snow to wreath her in steam for a few seconds. The police, for their part, kept up a barrage of fire on the creature even as the sergeant scrambled back on his ass, pulling out his radio and screaming for the STAR squad.

Toughness Toughness vs DC 24 (1d20+9=29) Ye-ah. Now, if everyone had been nice to the hulking monstrosity, he just would've gone home. Now he's gonna kick your ass. Ranged attack roll (1d20+9=27) Ooooo. Yeah, I think that hits. DC 24 Toughness Cops are gonna Aid Action for Fly. Three try to boost her Def, three try to boost her Att, 1d20+3=11, 1d20+3=12, 1d20+3=10, 1d20+3=17, 1d20+3=9, 1d20+3=18 Yay for Aid Action. Fly's Defense goes up by +6, to 25. Her attack also goes up by +4.

The officer nodded and opened his mouth to question Dragonfly further, but at that moment several of the flashing lights on the heroine's gauntlet turned amber and red. There was a disquieting ripple in the air and the large dead man, looking none the worse for struggling with Dragonfly's extradimensional bonds, burst free from her pocket prison. Neither hero nor villain were quite prepared for this, but the police reacted in amazing time; the sergeant grabbed Dragonfly and threw them both to the ground, while the other officers aimed at the huge creature and opened fire. Their bullets tore into unfeeling flesh, but the creature didn't even seem fazed by the attack.

Cops go first, they attack... 1d20+3=23 ... Okay, IC really loves the po-po. Perhaps I shouldn't've axed that detective character of mine. Minions, unfortunately, cannot crit. But that hit pretty darn solidly. Toughness check DC 18 1d20+9=26 Aw. I was holding out hope.

Buddy struggles to be free! Breaking out of Fly's Dim Pocket (1d20+7=22) And he succeeds, gloriously! I'm gonna call this a new round, so new Ini's. Buddy's! Initiative take two! (1d20+6=16) Not bad. Cops, next. One roll to rule them all, and in the darkness -- 1d20+1=21 OH DEAR SWEET CHRISTMAS!

Jessica swallowed her bite of chicken, inhaling another before she could set her utensils down and respond. "Don't worry above your table manners," she assured the alien. "I usually don't eat nearly as much or as often as I should, so when I get a chance to sit down for a nice meal, I focus on the food. Observe." The young woman collected some pasts on her fork and popped it in her mouth, chewing slowly and relishing the flavors. Maybe she wasn't as focused on the food as she let on, though, as she had the presence of mind to slip one foot out of her shoe and rub it against Blake's calf, her big toes tracing the line of the muscle. She shifted her gaze to her boyfriend long enough to give him a wink, then happily turned back to her meal.

If Robin thought there was something off about having such a literal call to heroics, she didn't show it. Presumably her line of work and her life experiences meant that she had a much higher threshold for the bizarre. She accepted the notion with a nod and asked, "Do you think you have been able to, ah, make a difference?"

Ironclad relaxed on the first sub-level, one of the ones they admitted existed. This kiln hadn't even been test-fired; she'd had to removed the plug blocks and connect it to electricity. She had the smiled armor sections locked inside and heating to nearly 400 degrees. The heroine herself say on a nearby table, watching the various news feeds of the event happening above. The slime monsters had been tough, and Ironclad had been lucky to escape. Especially since she had hunted that particular clutch down. Anything to avoid public speaking.

The armor collapsed into a blaze of light, which vanished into a slim wristwatch. It left Jessica in a tee-shirt and jeans, which the now on the ground quickly got to soaking through. To his credit, once the energy dissipated the EMT didn't waste any time in calling his partner over. This one wheeled over the gurney from the back of the ambulance. It telescoped down to the ground and the pair of EMTs lifted Jessica onto the litter. They loaded the gurney into the back of the ambulance; one paramedic jumped in the back and pulled the doors closed, while the other turned to dragonfly. "We're taking her to the Freedom Medical Center," he said. "We can't treat her here." As the ambulance pulled away several police cruisers arrived, adding their flashing lights to the mix. The officers spilled out, jackets zipped tight over Kevlar vests. Most of them had their sidearms drawn, but a couple hurried to grab riot guns from the trunks of their cruisers. One of them, a big bald sergeant fighting a potbelly and losing, hurried over to Dragonfly. "Hero! You called in the sighting?" He glanced around as the half-dozen officers fanned out. "We've called in the STAR squad, but we need to secure the area."

Freedom City Medical Center was on the other side of the river, but luckily the airport had their own clutch of emergency services. Almost as soon as Dragonfly made the call, she could spot flashing lights moving towards her, cutting across the tarmac and scattering baggage handlers. Even before the ambulance skidded to a halt, a young EMT flung the back doors open and jumped to the ground. He hurried down and knelt next to Ironclad, feeling for a pulse at her neck and opening a bag marked with a big red cross. He pulled out a back of IV fluid and grimaced at the armored heroine, before glancing up at Dragonfly. "Miss? Can you get her out of this armor? We need to get fluids and antibiotics into her."

Ironclad shivered as she looked around, noticing the bike and the odd collection of tools and... not much else. A featureless plain, stretching away to infinity. The noxious fumes were gone and she could see again, but something wasn't right. She felt queasy, and her esophagus still burned unpleasantly. The pain spread to her limbs and belly, and the heroine slowly curled into a ball around her belly. Her muscles felt liquid and shaky, like a bad case of the flu; every time she tried to marshal her thoughts and figure out what was happening, her entire body would spasm painfully and her mind would go blank again. She started whimpering quietly, wondering just where she was. Dragonfly, for her part, followed the trio of vents up dusty stairwells, loud noises coming from above and echoing between the walls until they were almost a physical thing, a wave of sonic energy that rattled the young woman's eyeballs. When she finally emerged into open air, she realized that the noise was a jet engine, or rather several dozen jet engines in close proximity. The abandoned subway station was, apparently, just a stone's throw from Jameson Airport.

The villain stared at the revitalized heroine, his face turning red under the layer of grime. "You haven't won," he snarled. He gestured towards the station, which was quickly being enveloped in sickly-looking green clouds -- and at Ironclad, barely visible inside the fog. The heroine was coughing violently and crawling blindly on her hands and knees, searching desperately for a way out. "That fog was supposed to cover the entire city and kill them all -- unless they came to me for the antidote. But now I guess it will just be your friend that gets it." He stumbled to his feet and backed away down the tunnel, presumably headed for some bolt hole. "Merry Christmas, hero! And a happy new year!" There was a shimmer in the air, and the villain disappeared, abruptly hidden behind some sort of light-bending technology no doubt.

Hobo's reroll Reroll on Nullify (1d20+10=16) Ah, well.

Reflex to get out 1d20+7=9 Not gonna happen this round. Opposed grapple! Resisting in the grapple (1d20+3=22) O.O Oh sure, here come the good rolls!

Ironclad took a step forward, but just at that moment one of the vents ruptured and sprayed vile-looking green smoke across the platform. She took a breath involuntarily and felt her lungs and throat start burning. Meanwhile the hobo villain apparently had other things on his mind, as he leapt off the platform and tackled Dragonfly, wrapping his skinny hands around her throat and trying to choke the heroine. "MY BROTHER," he screamed at her. "WHERE IS MY BROTHER!?"

Ironclad is choking. If the hobo gets his way, Dragonfly will be too, soon. Grapple check. 1d20+3=20 Beats Dragonfly's Defense, if she can't do better.

Ironclad struggled against the overdeveloped dead man, and when he suddenly disappeared into Dragonfly's pocket dimension she stumbled against the sudden lack of opposition. She glanced at her friend and nodded. "I'll be fine," she said, glancing over at the shabbily dressed villain. "But he won't be, I promise." The armored heroine leapt into the air and sailed across the tiled ceiling, coming down between the villain and the exits. "Give it up. Nowhere to run, and we've got you outnumbered." When 'Buddy' disappeared the hobo's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. He dropped the makeshift flamethrower and rushed towards the edge of the platform nearest Dragonfly, spitting at her in his rage. "You idiot! You have no idea what he represents! I won't let you get away with something like that!" He reached into his coat and pulled out something the size and shape of a baked potato, covered in metallic foil. He threw it on the ground and there was a sudden harsh buzzing, as randomized magnetic energy swept through every device in the subway station. Ironclad's armor went stiff and her vision blanked out; she had to physically open her helmet like a clamshell to get it off. Next to her, the vents started to spark and rumble.

Ironclad moves to block the bad guy's exit SCORCHED EARTH! Nullify (Technology) effect with a big enough area to cover everyone Power check versus all Devices (1d20+10=23) Power check vs Device rank. Pleas roll 1d20 + Device Rank, to beat 23. Ironclad's Suit! 1d20+14=21 Whoops!

Robin locked the door with a heavy brass key and a muttered word, then turned to precede Gabriel up the stairs. On the street she took a moment to make sure that her jacket was fastened against the evening chill, then nodded down the block towards the campus and Liberty Park. "It's this way," she said, setting off down the sidewalk. Gabriel was quite a bit taller than she was, but after walking with Wesley for so long she was able to modulate her stride so that she wasn't hurrying, but Gabriel wouldn't trip over his own feet waiting for her. She didn't take his hand or even grip his arm, but she did walk close enough that the backs of their hands brushed together from time to time. "So what brings you to the city," she asked. "Auditioning for the Freedom League?" She winked at the taller man, to show she wasn't -- exactly -- serious.

The hobo took the blast full in the chest and rocked back on his well-worn heels, then abruptly rolled forward and curled around his mid-section. The improvised weapon fell to the ground with a clatter, and it seemed he was concentrating on just breathing for the moment. Across the way, Ironclad wasn't doing as well as her friend. The dead man managed to snag the floating heroine's booted heel and dragged her down into a savage bear hug. She tried to headbutt him, but even though there was an audible crack of his nose breaking the creature didn't seem fazed by it.

First things first: Saves! Toughness save vs DC 24 (1d20+9=19) Well, that's a Bruise and a Stun. Just barely so. Grapple check for Buddy More grapples (1d20+10=27) That one hits! Ironclad is now Bound and Helpless! Clad shifts to S-Str and attempts to break free! Opposed grappling check vs 27 (1d20+14=28) And she breaks free! But I'm gonna negate that for DRAMA and she gets another HP. Things are starting to tip one way and another, aren't they? Doctor Hobo --- Bruised x1 & Stunned -- GM Thug -- Grappling -- GM Dragonfly -- No injuries -- HP x2 Ironclad -- Bound & Helpless! -- HP x4

Robin gave him a broad, sunny smile. "Why not go now? I can finish the cleaning later." She grabbed the cash box and disappeared into the back room, coming back out a moment later with a heavy, dark red, leather greatcoat folded across her arm. She swept it across her shoulders with a flourish, then walked over to the door and stepped outside. She held it open and smiled back at Gabriel. "Come on. Before it gets too crowded."

Ironclad freed herself with a surge of servo-assisted strength, letting bricks and mortar fall to the tracks. She oriented on the dead man quickly enough and fired off a quick blast from her wrist gauntlets, but it just threw up a spray of gravel as it impacted the ground. The dead man grabbed at her again and against she twisted in the air, avoiding his grasp. On the rail platform, the shabby supervillain completed his contraption and vaulted over the vent, almost eager to engage the heroine. The aerosol can had been welded to what looked like the cone from a bullhorn. He aimed it in her general direction, depressed a button -- and a gout of flame, fully twenty feet long, burped forth. The hobo inventor apparently misjudged the recoil, though, because the device pulled up and set the tiles on the roof alight, instead of roasting the heroine.

Ironclad's up! She attacks! 1d20+9=14 Wiffs! Hobo goes all Arachnophobia on Dragonfly 1d20+9=12 And misses! Thug attempts Grapple again 1d20+9=15 More grabbing at air! I'm gonna start rerolling these attacks if no one hits next round.

The dirty man scuttling between the stations whipped his head between the two superheroic women, obviously not prepared for this situation. "What!? What!? You're early! You can't be here to beg for mercy yet! Which means you must be here to stop me! Well, I'll stop you first, how does that sound!?" The man started rummaging in his overcoat, pulling out the bastard child of a multi-tool and a sodering iron in one hand, and an aerosol can in the other. More apparently random junk flowed out of the coat, and the man started attaching it to the spray can. "Buddy!" The shout seemed to rouse the recumbent thug, laying across three of the railroad tracks. "Buddy, get the one in the tin can! I'll deal with the one too stupid to wear a coat in winter!" The large figure -- 'Buddy' -- stumbled to its feet. The shapeless hat was gone, and Dragonfly could see that it was indeed a man, and he had indeed been dead long enough for his skin to go various shades of gray and green. Its eyes crackled electric-blue for a moment as they fixed on the young inventor, then swept past her to assess her friend, still stuck in the ceiling. The dead man grunted and swung a hand at Ironclad, but instead of catching the woman's pinwheeling feet it only caught air.