Supercape

Snakebite As tempting as it was to blurt out the truth in complete form, Cassie felt that the atmosphere was - and quite understandably - tense. Diplomacy needed a light touch, and the truth had to spill out in a measured way, whilst avoiding any falsehood. "<I fear we...may have>" said Cassie, cautiously. "<And we barely escaped with our own skin....>" she pointed at both of them, indicating the war wounds they had recieved. "<What is this terrible beast? It did not look like any predator from the jungle....something much more terrible....!>" she said, more emphatically. "<Forgive the questions, but we are explorers and archeaologists. We seek to understand, even if the understanding is something terrible....>"

GM And so... The nearest police station was not far. Monday night was far from its busiest, even at this time of night. A few drunkards, a few thefts, but nothing too exciting. That was all about to change when Justice marched in holding a zombie man at gun point. "Jesus Christ mother of Mary!" mangled the desk seargent. He was a middle aged man with a paucity of hair and an excess of flesh. His suprise was so great that he dropped his double cream McChoco-Choc donut from his gaping fingers and gaping maw. "What the hell is this!?!" he whispered with every suggestion that hell had indeed vomitted up an unpleasantness right into his lap. "Lamentations! An infernal pox upon me! Beware! Beware!" interjected Finnigan, adopting a dramatic and infernal pose.

Good enough to get the answer as per IC. Not ideal, but better than a nuke! Feel free to SCIENCE that effect however you wish. (? Reverse sound ?)

GM The Energy levels flicked this way and that. The Scarab could see the sparks flying off Yassers unconscious corpse in infra red and ultravoilet, and most probably a whole heap of EM signatures. Either way, it didn't look good. She could hear the footsteps stop - at least momentarily. There was the sound of agruments in arabic, which became quickly as hot as Yasser. Some wanted to run, some felt a loyalty to Yasser. She could hear a scuffle break out... ...but right now, it seemed Yasser was about to explode. And explode badly. The only solution that she could see was to invert the detonation. Make him implode rather than explode. Although what would that do to Yasser? In any case, it was better than him getting torn to atoms in an explosion. Now, if only she could work out how to reverse the polarity of the neutron flow....!

Ok so I think we are back on course with various edits!

Rev "Go on, shoo!" said Rev, giving a token swing of her shiny foot to indicate she was kicking them out of play. She span round, a put a brave face on, not wishing to let anyone know (perhaps even herself) how she felt her insides grind. It was going to take a while to get her organs back in the right place, she thought. Or rather, tried not to think about. "As for you, Mister Mastermind, we aren't letting you go!" she said. "That's my masterplan!" With that cleared up, she swung her fist forward on its extended cybernetic springs!

OK so Rev is going to prioritise the mastermind rather than the punks. As fifteen feet away, thats good enough to hit with elonged arm, and lets go for a completely straightforward punch! Punch Midas: 1d20+10 22 well I guess that hits, and if it does, a DC 25 Tough Save

GM Another swirl of murk and Finnigan was back to his true form, skin, bones, and little else. His skin was rotten leather, his teeth yellow and loose, his eyes bulging and grey. "I should not have told you that" he said, angry with himself now. "It seems I have played my last card, and you still hold the gun. Bah! I spit at you!" he said, defiantly, and gave a spit at Justice's feet. It was not a big spit, but it did not look very hygeinic either. "Come then. Let us go and see what terrible fate awaits me!"

GM "But he cheated me!" complained Mr. Sting, clearly not happy with being cheated. "Did you never bend a deal your own way?" retorted Abdul. "Come on. You stabbed me. We are in a Jungle a million years ago. Lets get out of here, then we can discuss who did what to who" he said, sternly. Mr. Sting gave him a long hard glare, frustrated at circumstance. "Guess the dice fall that way today, huh...." he conceded. "I'll not shank you today, then..." Abdul, still holding his belly and red stained t shirt looked back at the Dust Devil. "I can...I think...get us through the Mesa. I wish you hadn't crushed the leaf though. It...allows me to see the way much more clearly" he said, rather worried. "I can't be sure I can get us back to the right place, or the right time...."

Right I think the point where it when a little askew is this one, @Cubismo This will take a bit of an edit extravaganza! Cube, perhaps you could edit that post without reference to the question to North, and then I can edit the post afterwards?

GM There was a swirl of murk, the faintest sound of flies, the smell of something ancient, and the wasted figure of Finnigan was there once more. "Astute!" he said, angry that his disguise had been penetrated. There was another whirl of murk around him, and in the blink of an eye, a young woman stood in his place, malnourished, ragged clothes. "Puh-puh-please officer! I am homeless...I need help! This vigilante is trying to clean up the streets..." she sobbed, dropping to her knees. "C-c---can you help me?" she asked the imaginary police officer in front of her. Finnigan, still looking like the homeless youth, gave Justice a defiant eye. "Wouldn't do much for your reputation, would it?" he said, spitefully....

Both very welcome (and still open for offers). Any thoughts on what to do?

GM "Child killer?" blustered the Gas Man. "CHILD KILLER?" he was angry now, to the point of livid. "When did he kill a child, huh?" he demanded, pointing another finger at Justice. He edged, slowly, towards the ladder. Zam! He stopped as the Justice Blaster kicked up a puff of dirt by his feet. "So, that's the way of it is it? Gun in hand again..." grunted a most displeased Gas Man. "So...what's this, a mexican stand off? What you gonna do now, Sherrif?"

GM "...nothing the Doctor's couldn't fix" answered the Gas Man, grumpy and irritated. "I had worse than falling buidlings" He took one final look around the building. "Look. I don't want to fight you. Not again" he concluded, bluntly. "You go your way, I'll go mine, alright? As far as I know, Finnigan is down in the sewer, and that's where I'm going to look. You want to kick up dust up here, that's your business. Good luck to you". He gave a grunt of satisfaction and then circled slowly around Justice, making his way to the ladder...

GM The Gas Man's supsicion apparently matched Justice's. "I had him in my sights!" he said, pointing at his night-vision goggles. "What do you mean, you had him in yours? He can't be in two places at once....can he?" he asked. He was getting nervous now, wringing his hands once more. Sweating. "What's going on? He is some magician? Illusionist? Smoke and mirrors?" he asked, looking aroung carefully before turning his paranoid glare back on Justice. "No...it must be you! Lying to me! He's down there, isn't he?" he demanded, pointing at the sewer beneath them. "You won't keep me from him! Let me through...."

GM The Gas Man looked around warily, slowly. "Its just dust here. What do you mean, he was in front of you....?" he asked suspiciously. "Forgive me if I don't trust you. You shot me in the back last time we met..." he said, slowly, examining Justice carefully. "What exactly do you know? Are you keeping something from me?" he asked. "I had him....I am sure I had him...." he muttered, wringing his hands vexatiously. "He must have slipped past you, somehow...! Amateur!" he said, pointing his finger dramatically at Justice. "Have you ever done this before, hunted a man?"

Snakebite Not the easiest question to answer. "We are friends" she answered, soothingly, in Spanish. She turned around slowly, hands up, to indicate that everything was safe. At least, that she and Neil where safe. "We mean you no harm. Although it seems that something else means you harm. Great harm" she started, wondering if these villagers have had some terrible encounter with the beast. The monster. "I am Cassandra Crow. An explorer. What happened here? A monster, did you say?"

A notice roll please!

GM At the top of the ladder, Justice climbed up once more to the abandoned building. Nothing had changed. The fire was half burnt out but still flickered with dim light and dimmer heat. The masonry was just as crumbling as before, ready to collapse at any moment. Finnigan was nowhere to be seen. Had he developed a sudden burst of speed? gone invisible? as hampered as Rocket Lord had been, she had only been a second or two behind him, far faster than he had appeared to be. But there was someone else there, standing right next to the hole. "Where did he go?" snarled the Gas Man....

GM "I want something better" agreed Finnigan as he went up the stairs. "Who does not? You? Content with just a gun and a bold attitude?" he asked, and seemed interested, even if was bitter. He looked down and saw Justice climbing up behind him with one hand. "Although...It seems your gun is slowing you down..." he noted, something glinting in his eyes. Hope. He had once chance, it seemed, and he took it. Once he reached the top of the ladder, he bolted. He was slow, slower than Justice, but he had a few secopnds lead, and Justice was climbing much more slowly with one hand...

GM Finnigan seemed compliant. He dramatically took off his tall top hat and dropped it, defeated. It hit the sludge of the sewer with gentle splosh, and he hung his head in despair. "It seems then, that you are the master, and I am the slave" he muttered, shuffling slowly back through the sewer tunnel, his voice low. He took the first rung of the ladder that they had descended down, which lead pu to the abandoned building. "It is night, yes? I will at least be spared the horror of my exposing my condition to the world!" he said. The darkness swirled around him and turned him once again into the tall, thin, but ultimately human looking figure he had been. "Sunlight makes my illusion fade. I have some connection to a dimension of shadow and murk that sustains me. But sunlight...alas, I have no cloak of deception there..." he said, sadly. He started up the ladder. "What fate awaits me when the sun rises, I wonder?"

GM Finnigan paused, weighing up his options, his fingers curling around themselves. "...it seems my....options are limited. Such is the way of the gun" he concluded. "Opression!" "I will not spread a plague. My power to infect is simply....a side effect of my condition. Something I can at least control. It is not, as far as I can determine, contagious" he explained, solidly. "So I give you my word, such as it is, and surely you value it not a jot. I will spead no plague....!" "But what good are words when you are the one holding the gun, and I am the one staring at its barrel. You have me, and do with me what you will!"

GM "Oh yes, I am sure I will be totally safe in the hands of the police" said Finnigan, slowly and pointedly, dripping sarcasm. "Zombie man lures children to be thieves...yes, yes. Prison will be a splendid experience too, I am sure. My condition has left me weak and slow, and more than that, full of disease. How did you like shaking my hand last time we met?" he asked, cunningly. "Fevers? Sweats? Maybe you are made of sufficiently stern stuff. But put me in prison, and there will be a plague! Any deaths, on your hands. But then again, maybe you think such punishment is warranted. Maybe you think it is JUSTICE!"

If he fits, Ronin.

Vaguely thinking about a briefish light hearted social thread set at the High Steaks, den of gamblings, steaks, and champagne in Freedom City (owned by Diamondlight, my PC). If anyone has any thoughts or interest, let me know.