Fox

Right you are; I've updated it to have Selective Attack (and threw in the Improved Trip power feat too, why not).

Nocturne Power Level: 9 [13] (173/237PP) Unspent Power Points: 64PP Trade-Offs: -3 Defense / +3 Toughness In Brief: Gravity-powered mean teen. Theme: Dear Rouge - Black To Gold Alternate Identity: Natalia Koshchei Birthplace: Freedom City, USA Residence: Claremont Academy Occupation: student Affiliations: Claremont Academy Family: parents, grandfather (Viktor Koshchei - 'Graviton'). Description: Age: 16 (DoB: December 2004) Gender: female Ethnicity: Caucasian Height: 5'8" Weight: 125 lbs Eyes: gold Hair: black Natalia is relatively tall and svelte, long-limbed with a teenager's approximation of elegance. She has her father's short nose, pale skin, strong features, and piercing eyes (now gold, a side-effect of being infused with her powers), and her mother's straight dark hair and sharp chin. She's probably smiled at least once, surely, but there's no evidence and one gets the impression that all witnesses to the event have since disappeared. She dresses fashionably but not ostentatiously, favoring clean lines and well-fitted clothes in her signature blacks and golds. She has expensive tastes rarely sustained on a teen's budget, and she makes up the difference with self-made (and thus perfectly-fitted) clothing of her own increasingly sophisticated design, along with a carefully-maintained closet of favorites. When up to no good Natalia wears a sleeveless black bodysuit that covers her from her feet to her neck; over this she drapes carefully-tailored gold and black cloth, cut low and tight in the top and flowing freely below the waist, slit up to her hips in an invocation of a fine dress or elegant robe. With a pair of low-heeled ankle boots she can stand just a little bit higher (the better to look down on her foes), and with gold-accented gloves she can protect her hands (and not have to touch...anything). A simple black mask and hood protect her identity. History: Born as the sun set on the Second World War, Viktor Koshchei was a mountain of a man in both statue and intellect, his potential quickly identified and dedicated to the development of new sciences and tools to promote the Soviet Union. He broke ground on exotic sciences. He developed new and fantastic weapons. And he was, in truth...entirely disinterested in all of it. His last great work was a way to harness gravity itself: a machine, attached to a man, that could amplify his strength and abilities to punch through any problem, crush any wall, defeat any enemy. This had always been his way: the direct solution, solving troubles with your own two hands. When he and his work were to be buried, shuffled off to a secret laboratory where neither might see the light of day again, he donned the machine and punched through the problem. From that point on he was a villain of the Cold War, asset and hindrance to all sides. He was Graviton, and his solutions to his problems were direct, decisive, and far more entertaining than a lab. Still, his machine was imperfect, his particles difficult to source; there was a better way, a theoretical way. Not for him, but for a child - a worthy successor. A legacy. His own child, his son, was too old to gain the power himself...and besides, he made eyes at every spy and hero they encountered. No, he would need a new generation. A new child to empower and teach. Natalia was born in 2004 to parents that had long-since settled down, and who had neither the ability nor interest to keep her from her grandfather's attention. Under his guiding hand she learned about a power that was a part of her - not half-machinery, like her deda, but built into her being, infused into every cell of her body. Under his guiding hand she learned everything he thought she would need to survive, and to be every inch as great as he had been. These were possibly not good lessons for a young girl. She got better at manipulating people than at making friends, better at being who she thought she should be than being who she really was. She got into fights (and mostly won) but the more she thought she knew about the world the worse she got at being her own person, and the worse she was at being her own person the more she cut herself from real, human connections. She was a bully, aloof and mean...and worse, she was good at it, even when she didn't want to be. Natalia's parents finally put their foot down when, at 13, Viktor attempted to take her on a 'proper job' - which is to say, an attempt to knock over a bank. Faced with the influence Viktor had already had and who their daughter risked becoming, they cut ties with him and sought to enroll their daughter in a more positive environment where she could still learn about herself and what she could do. Personality & Motivation: There is not a normal person in Natalia's family tree, not to mention a distinct lack of trust all around, and she wears the signs of both wherever she goes. Natalia seeks control - control of herself, control of her abilities, and control of her life; historically she's sought control of the people around her if she could get it. She's not comfortable with vulnerability, nor open displays of empathy between equals, nor seeking help from others. She's been taught, implicitly or explicitly, that there are many kinds of strength but it is always strength that wins in the end. There are movers, and the moved; the manipulators, and the manipulated; hunters and prey. She will not be the latter. Being a young teenage girl she has no idea how to properly pursue any of that, but she assumes a school full of the empowered will be an excellent place to learn. She is lonely in a way she can't properly admit, even to herself. Powers & Tactics: Natalia wields power over the force of gravity, generating & controlling exotic particles that decay far too quickly for proper study. She prefers the hands-off approach, keeping her enemies at bay - she'll lock them down if she can, controlling the battle to the best of her ability and pressuring her enemies until they don't pose any further threat. This more practical tactic is somewhat undercut by her sense of impact and presentation, however; she'll rarely turn down an opportunity to crush an enemy's will along with their strength, all the better to keep them from being a threat in the future, and all the better to make herself seem more controlled and powerful than she may sometimes feel. Power Descriptions: Lower-key uses of her powers may be difficult to perceive, but any larger efforts will see energy pour off of Natalia in uneven black-and-gold patterns; this gravitational energy is far more evenly-distributed at her target, re-manifesting as fields of dim light or fluctuating circles. Complications: Critical Mass: Not all of Natalia's self-control is unhealthy; her power is driven as much by instinct as intellect and in times of great distress or emotional turmoil it may manifest unreliably or unbidden. The Gravity-Powered Menace!: Natalia's grandfather was quite active back in the day, and his identity is not a secret. She is the gravity-powered granddaughter of a known (if partly-retired) gravity-powered supervillain and one could easily assume the apple didn't fall far from the tree. Leverage: Natalia's family contains several criminals, at least one supervillain, and an ex-spy. The politics of this are complicated, and a teenage girl would make excellent leverage for anyone trying to get at or through any given piece of her family. Pride Goeth Before: Natalia cloaks herself in her pride, wields it as both armor and sword; she can be provoked into acting against her best interests if an enemy can dig into her pride and sense of self. She may also be reasonably blackmailed if one found evidence of anything she might consider embarrassing or immature. Social Distancing: Natalia's not used to dealing with other people, and while she's capable of turning up the charm when she wants something, her disdain and the social distance she keeps with casual acquaintances is easily mistaken for malice. Her reputation suffers for it, which may leave anyone who doesn't know her (and some of those who do) unfriendly and untrusting at the outset. Abilities: 0 + 2 + 2 + 4 + 4 + 8 = 20PP Strength: 10 (+0) Dexterity: 12 (+1) Constitution: 12 (+1) Intelligence: 14 (+2) Wisdom: 14 (+2) Charisma: 18 (+4) Combat: 10 + 6 = 16PP Initiative: +5 (+1 Dex, +4 Improved Initiative) Attack: +5 Melee, +5 Ranged, +9 Gravitics Defense: +6 (+3 Base, +3 Dodge Focus), +2 Flat-Footed Grapple: +5 / +21 Move Object Knockback: -0 / -10 Saving Throws: 5 + 6 + 9 = 20PP Toughness: +1/+12 (+1 Con, +11 Force Field; 9 Impervious) Fortitude: +6 (+1 Con, +5) Reflex: +7 (+1 Dex, +6) Will: +11 (+2 Wis, +9) Skills: 72R = 18PP Bluff 8 (+12 / +16 Attractive) Concentration 5 (+7) Craft [Artistic] 12 (+14) Diplomacy 10 (+14 / +18 Attractive) Intimidate 8 (+12) Knowledge (Current Events) 4 (+6) Knowledge (Physical Sciences) 8 (+10) Knowledge (Popular Culture) 8 (+10) Language 1 (English [native], Russian) Notice 4 (+6) Sense Motive 4 (+6) Feats: 11PP Attractive Connected Dodge Focus 3 Environmental Adaptation 3 (high/low/zero gravity) Improved Initiative Luck 2 Powers: 5 + 20 + 43 + 2 + 6 + 12 = 88PP (all powers have the 'gravity' and 'mutant' descriptors, ultimately from a 'science' source) Flight 2 (25mph; Feats: Subtle) [5PP] Force Field 11 (Extras: Impervious 9) [20PP] Gravitics Array 20 (40pp Array; Feats: Alternate Power 3) [43PP] BP: Move Object 12 (crush/throw; 50 ton heavy load; Extras: Damaging 9; Feats: Accurate 2, Indirect 2, Precise, Variable Descriptor 1 (any physical)) [39/40] AP: Nullify Flight 9 (drag, nullify all Flight effects; Extras: Alternate Save +0 [Reflex], Area (general, burst), Effortless, Selective Attack) [36/40] AP: Paralyze 9 (collapse; Extras: Area (general, burst), Alternate Save +0 [Reflex], Range [Ranged], Selective Attack; Flaws: Action 1 [Full]; Feats: Indirect 2, Reversible) [39/40] AP: Trip 9 (riptide; Extras: Area (general, burst), Knockback, Selective Attack; Feats: Improved Throw, Indirect 2) [39/40] Immunity 1 (own powers; Feats: Selective) [2PP] Super-Senses 6 (Gravity Awareness [mental; Accurate, Acute, Radius, Ranged]) [6PP] Utility Array 5 (10pp Array; Feats: Alternate Power 2) [12PP] BP: Environmental Control 3 (low gravity, 25' radius; Extras: Action 1 [Move]) [9/10] AP: Environmental Control 3 (high gravity, 25' radius; Extras: Action 1 [Move]) [9/10] AP: Super-Movement 2 (Wall-Crawling 2; Extras: Affects Others, Area [general, burst], Range 1 [Ranged]) [10/10] Useful Notes: Environmental Gravity Drawbacks: -0PP DC Block ATTACK RANGE SAVE EFFECT Unarmed Touch DC15 Toughness Damage Move Object Ranged DC24 Toughness Damage Nullify Ranged (45' radius) DC 19 Reflex Area Check |> Contested Check (Ref/Rank) Flight Nullified Paralyze Ranged (45' radius) DC19 Reflex Area Check |> DC19 Reflex Slowed/Paralyzed |> DC19 Reflex (+1/round) Recover Trip Ranged (45' radius) DC19 Reflex Area Check |> Contested Check (STR/DEX) Prone + Knockback Totals: Abilities (20) + Combat (16) + Saving Throws (20) + Skills (18) + Feats (11) + Powers (88) - Drawbacks (0) = 173/237 Power Points

Reflex Save vs. Damage, DC20: 1d20+9 10 Oof! I don't want to try that toughness save on a defense-shifted character, so I'll cough up a hero point to reroll; she can't do worse than an 11, which would meet the minimum DC20. That plus Evasion means no damage for Masque.

Ryder was demonstrating more energy and enthusiasm in the last few minutes than Mara could summon up across some days, and she was starting to feel very old in a way she chose not to think about. Maybe she could commiserate with Ellie later and get some caramel sympathy kisses. "'Paper thing' is actual, genuine safety advice," she assured Jenny, looking over with as much sympathy as a cold metal mask could summon. "....probably keep an eye on napkin and receipt stock, though. Just in case of...enthusiasm." Not that enthusiasm was bad, but she had to assume Ryder needed more tempering than exciting. "I have your number," she said, not feeling the need to explain just how she'd accomplished that - but there were lights just barely visible, flickering behind the lenses of her helmet. "You have mine. It's on your phone. Yours too," she amended, Jenny's way. "Phones, plural, then. In case he does something we all regret. Do not give it out. Doesn't lead to an actual phone, may not pick it up, but I'll get a message sent there, eventually."

Masque: Initiative Roll: 1d20+7 9 Considering the number of characters floating around here I'll go ahead and have Masque collapse her duplicate, so there's only one Masque in this combat.

"Hyperbole," Dragonfly assured, holding up a hand. She wouldn't have necessarily aimed to involve Jenny, but at least there was someone around Ryder capable of working a brake pedal. That was comforting. The idea was admittedly interesting, though, and she ran through some quick mental math and design. "Would need to do something very badly to actually do that, and science he doesn't know, and also most of the power grid of the eastern United States. Would blow out every transformer between here and Bedlam before it did any lasting harm." That was probably less reassuring than she'd intended. She moved on. "Not recommending actual internship; could probably pull strings, but not going to make promises to someone I don't really know. Mostly just want to make sure he doesn't get hurt by anything he learned studying other peoples' things before returning them."

Dragonfly stared at him, impassive, for what felt like a solid minute as she churned that one over in her mind. It wasn't that he was technically wrong, but he was just about easier to read than she was and she had some fairly severe reservations. "Hypothetically," she said at last, "it would be the most dangerous for someone to not forget they had ever seen it and live happy, and quietly, because not everyone gets to." She pulled a face that thankfully no one else could see. Mara sure wouldn't have been satisfied with that answer, and as difficult as it was accepting that some of her modern designs were in the wild, it would be worse still if some smart-but-dumb kid got himself hurt. Right? Probably? "....but hypothetically, if that wasn't possible, it would be the most dangerous to not learn enough to keep from hurting someone or collapsing a city block into non-euclidean cube. That's not the same as learning more about it, but it's close."

"Not unfair," mused Dragonfly without apparent ego; something on the back of her armor audibly moved, articulating like she was flexing a muscle, but she resisted the urge to deploy her wings in a small and enclosed space. "Wings took a long time to get right. People always expect them to flap, lift by air vortex. Doable, but awful power to weight ratio. Impressed your brother could theorize without plans - they work more like a keel or variable airfoil, but difficult to discern without being able to see--" She spied her drone and cut off, reaching out to gently lift the metal device out of its box and turn it over. "Mmm. Poor thing, brave. Saved three people, reinforced only doorway out. Power strain fried its locator, couldn't find it afterward. Not actually alive," she assured them, glancing back, "but hard not to get attached. Glad to have it back. Important that technology doesn't fall into the wrong hands, could do a lot of harm." That last bit was very pointedly directed at Ryder as she set the drone back in the box, and took the box from him. "Dangerous when not understood well, would be very upset if it was replicated by bad people."

"Mm." Dragonfly stood like a statue for a moment, pondering the ingredients and menu; she'd been distracted enough to find out what Ellie and Yolanda might want - not to mention pondering secret identity concerns for herself and others - that she hadn't figured out what Dragonfly would want and that seemed like a problem she could have avoided. Sloppy. Something to fix for next time. ".....caramel apple ice cream parfait, orange smoothie, chocolate malt?" she said, finally, cocking her head to the side. Getting them back before they melted might be a challenge, but it would be worthwhile; patrols were done for the day and the smiles were always a reward for the effort. "Strawberry banana smoothie if oranges aren't as good right now. Not in season, always hit or miss."

"Probably my fault," said Dragonfly, stepping into the shop. It was, to her, technically true - the best kind of true, and kept her from having to try to lie. She'd never really gotten the hang of lying. It also kept her mind off of the eternal awkwardness of being in normal social spaces in full armor. "He found something of mine and needed to return it," technically correct, "but I'm not always easy to find." Also technically correct. This was going well. "Appreciate your help."

"Drones didn't get good handling for living tissue, no." She was glad he'd tried it on fruit first; it would have been a very short and painful lesson otherwise. "Can store living things - or ex-living-things - safely, but takes more doing. Recommend getting paper working first; bad calculations or calibration leads to shear forces, and paper provides a clear record of what tore where. Make a paper box or lantern, complicated shapes to fit troubling vectors. Good debugging." Tap-tap-tap went the finger as the endless gears in Mara's head turned over. It probably wasn't a trap. Probably. She wasn't sure he'd thought it all the way through, but she wasn't going to stop him from making her job easier. "....okay. May need to take order to go, though." She was already queuing up her suit comms, firing a couple quick text messages in case someone had a request. "Where to?"

"Would like it back," confirmed Dragonfly, crossing her arms and tapping a finger as she tried to get a read on Chitin. Tap-tap-tap. "Bring it here, leave it on the rooftop. Will have a drone nearby to pick it up." Tap-tap-tap. "....also glad you didn't lose limbs." She was impressed, too, though she wasn't sure she wanted to admit it. Mara was fairly certain that most people who tried to use her technology would turn themselves inside out, or get lost in a pocket dimension forever, or...well. Tear off limbs. This kid had made something new - something his - and she had a sense of displaced appreciation threatening to overtake her ire. Eventually she had to break the silence. "Reorientation is only necessary if you think all dimensions share objective axes," she said, answering a question long-since asked. "Forced orientation is only useful for large-scale object translation - or travel to pre-existing alternate dimensions. Fixed-point teleporters, portals. Not for small mass retrieval. Usually just define 'up', 'down', 'left', 'right' relative to me and not my surroundings. Translations automatically orient to me because they were already, always, pointed in my direction - no matter what direction that was. Simplifies the math by baking it into the translation calculation itself."

"Yeah. I'm sorry too," agreed Mike, seemingly relieved things were over. "Could have been worse, though, huh Chuck?" Chuck, being unconscious, didn't reply. Dragonfly's drones had been peering around the warehouse, canvassing it for evidence or curiosity; when Chitin's bugs flew in they took notice, the closest one always following the bugs with its great single eye, but they otherwise seemed to be on a pretty tight leash. Dragonfly cocked her head for a moment, making a radio call Chitin could detect but not immediately decipher, and then gestured for Chitin to follow her north - they'd barely made it past the fence when sirens could be heard from the east. They ended up on a warehouse roof, much like any other, but Dragonfly seemed satisfied enough with it; her little drone fleet had whittled itself down to two, which circled her like puppies that wanted to know if they'd done a good job. She caught one and turned it over, inspecting it for damage while it wiggled its plating. It gave her time to reflect on this young...person? Man/boy/child, probably, but in a full-body suit she was never going to place bets. It spoke well enough of him, at least, but she didn't like the parts that were too familiar for comfort. "What is your name, where is my drone?"

"...bought them." Dragonfly hovered down to the ground, wings vanishing; she pulled a couple zip-ties out of thin air and tossed them to Mike, who received a hard stare until he quietly tied himself to the nearest conveyor. It was, apparently, not his first rodeo. "Criminal paradox: criminals want to buy powerful weapons, especially in Freedom City, even at high prices. Arms makers want to sell guns, especially at high prices. Arms makers don't always want to go near Freedom City, or don't want guns traced to them. So they get idiots," she pointed at Mike, as if the barb could be mistaken for anyone else, "to buy guns at good prices, and they resell in Freedom City. Plausible deniability for the makers. Weapons for the criminals. Profit for clever gun runners, if they're smart enough to not run guns through Greenbank." She wasn't sure what to make of Chitin. His body language was young, his suit was advanced, and while she was glad the gang wasn't the one with her missing drone she hadn't been expecting....any of this. "....we should talk." "Hey," said Mike, "if you can cut my friends and I a deal, or put in a good word or something, I'll talk to--" "Not you."

For bookkeeping: Dragonfly enters from above and hits the two remaining goons with a split-attack blast, off her drones; she'd take 10 for a 22, which inflicts a minimum of (15 + 6 [rank] + 5 [autofire, 22 vs. 12]) DC26 on them, which they can't actually make. Any goons outside presumably had a very bad day if they tried anything, but they were strictly minions so Chitin had the better showing! We are out of rounds. Mike is not interested in fighting two heroes at once with no backup.

Dragonfly teleported through the ceiling like some kind of armored agent of vengeance, a half-dozen drones splayed around her like a halo. The goons were a priority: drone 2 had spotted them first, and they disappeared in a rain of energy from her complement of helpers. They'd be fine, of course: it was more awe than shock, but it was just enough calculated shock to put them out of a fight and hopefully convince them to re-think their choices. Which left...basically nothing? Open crates, an expertly-broken cannon, three KO'd criminals, and someone she didn't recognize in technology she did recognize. But not part of the gang? "....explain," she said, to either or both of the still-standing young men. Mike looked back and forth between Chitin and Dragonfly, made a noise like a dying hope, and carefully - gently - put the SMG down. "Never," he said to Chuck's unconscious body, "never ever run guns in Greenbank."

GM "I never cared about the fame! But the money was too good - you don't just pass that up. It beats a 9-to-5!" Mike was doing his level best to keep out of Chitin's reach, but his level best was clearly not good enough; the two men with crowbars had apparently been the melee combatants of this conflict. Mike couldn't quite get the distance to take another shot. "It was a risk, but we knew it. The money was my dream. You know what this could all buy? You...you might have gotten most of us," he added, uncertain, "but we still outnumber you! Guys, get him!" The guys had pulled a pair of heavy pistols out of their crate, and were training them on Chitin, but one of them was looking straight up. A dark grey drone the size of a football was looking down. Its eye refocused on the gun and went from neon blue to a warning red.

Mike's readied action goes off: Ranged Attack Roll vs. Chitin: 1d20+3 22 Mike's got it out for you! That's a DC19 toughness save. That attack definitely hits Chuck; his save: Toughness Save vs. Chitin: 1d20+2 5 Well! That's a heck of a failure. Chuck's out.

Initiative, Round 4: 22: Chitin, 2HP, 1 bruise 21: Chuck, unharmed, glowy gun 9: Mike, unharmed, normal gun, readied action 8: Goon 4, unharmed, re-arming 2: Goon 6, unharmed, re-arming Chitin's up!

GM "Wh--I'm not desperate," shouted Chuck, raining red lines of light up into the rafters; they sparked against the catwalks and girders and left angry marks of red-hot metal where they hit, but none of them could reach Chitin. "I'm from Hanover! I'm-- we're going to be someone! Someone rich!" "Maybe don't tell the hero where you're from, Chuck," muttered Mike; he had the cool head to not waste bullets on a target he could barely see, much less hit, but he kept his gun trained upward all the same. He started moving to the side, trying to get a better angle - any angle, really. "Let's just get this done before someone hears us and starts some worse trouble." On their end, the goon trio looked at the wrecked and sadly-beeping cannon at their feet, looked at each other, and at least two of them turned to start rummaging through their surroundings for something that wasn't broken. The third glanced at his compatriots, made sure they weren't watching, and quietly exited stage right. There was noise, again, from outside - shouting, maybe, though the words were indistinct over the hail of laser fire.

Chuck takes a shot, but his odds are poor with Chitin behind cover (good call!): Ranged Attack Roll vs. Chitin: 1d20+3 15 Yeah, that won't do. Mike readies an action to shoot when Chitin reveals himself. The goon trio is a little shaken that their trump card got smashed so easily! It was made of steel! They are not. Coin Flip: 3#1d2 2 1 2 Goon 5 decides this is not great and double-moves out the nearest door. Goons 4 & 6 start rooting around for better weapons, but it's going to take them a moment to crack open a new crate. There's some noise outside! Maybe goon 5 found goon 3.

Hmm! I was going to roll toughness for that, but it's an object, and with that skill check I feel like Chitin would at least have an idea how to take it out. Taking 10, it'd 'roll' 20 or so; against a DC of 27, that's enough to disable it but not outright destroy it (which could have consequences!). It is visibly ruined and makes a sad noise as it powers back down.

They're some manner of laser weapon, by the looks of them, but they'll pack a decent punch. Chuck's weapon probably isn't all that much better than a normal gun, but that big cannon would hurt. The way the big cannon's acting, and with a roll that good, Chitin might guess that it'd take about a round to charge up, and could only fire once before having to charge again. A shot that big is probably in Chitin's weight class, PL-wise, though...assuming the goons can aim it competently.

GM Chuck knocked the top off his crate, dragging out a heavy black case; he started playing with the lock on it while Mike covered his back. "You'll protect everyone's dreams by stopping ours??" he called out over his shoulder. "You hero types, always stickin' your nose in!" He made a satisfied noise as the case opened, and turned back around holding something gun-shaped, but larger, with a glowing line down each side of the barrel that lit up red with an ominous hum. "Mike!" Mike set his jaw, pulling the trigger on his SMG; the shots went wide, but those were sure some real bullets rattling against the far wall of the warehouse. "You guys better warm that up fast!" 'You guys' had to be the trio on Chitin's far side - they'd managed to pry their crate open, hauling out something that would have looked like a bazooka if it, too, didn't have angry glowing lines and a much louder ominous hum. "Hold up the back end-" "I'm holding what I'm holding, you watch the front-" "Good job guys, aim a little further down-"

Initiative, Round 3: 22: Chitin, 2HP, 1 bruise 21: Chuck, unharmed, glowy gun 9: Mike, unharmed, normal gun 9: Goon 3, unharmed (outside) 8: Goon 4, unharmed, big gun 7: Goon 5, unharmed, helping with big gun 2: Goon 6, unharmed, "helping" with big gun Chitin's up!