Supercape

GM "Dont get blasted to oblivion!" was the only thing Fields could add, and whilst reasonable advice it was surely something the Scarab was already intent on. With a whoosh of gravitic gravitation, the Scarab landed on the roof of the mansion, and then lowered herself onto the first floor. The inside of the mansion had the same feel as the outside. A little old and crumbly, full of rather worn antiques. A beautiful rug here, an intricate four poster bed there. And some goons with Daka-powered rifles. They looked like 60s Sci-fi weapons in a cheap TV serial, but clearly they sizzled with power. The Scarab crept past them, counting three of them on the top floor, smoking, playing cards, drinking coffee, being generally relaxed and rather undisciplined. The entertainment room was another matter. Also on the top floor, it was full of sumptious cushions and rugs, and gave every indication that it was used for smoking intoxicants and, as the policeman had said, watching pretty girls dance. Probably not wearing much. Relaxing on a heap of cushions was a thin man dressed in traditional Egyptian dress, rather expensively. This was surely Yasser Sanu, the arms dealer that Misi and his cousin had talked about. A dangerous, callous, cruel man. And that was before. Now, his eyes sizzled with blue-white energy and you could almost feel the Daka energy flowing though his veins and crackling over his skin. He had, as yet, not spotted the Scarab. Instead, he languished on the cushions, seemiingly (for now) content on enjoying his success, fortune, and prospects.

Opposed against! Notice stealth: 1d20+4 7 YOu are stealthy!

GM "Where should I be?" mumbled Abdul cryptically. Fort all his vagueness he had an intensity to him, and intelligence and drive to his eyes. "I saw you coming you know. Not with my eyes. The leaf sends your mind into the past, and the future. And this is where it grows. My...supplier....gave it to me" he explained. "You should try it..." he added, wafting a few smoking fumes towards the Dust Devil. "Now my eyes have been opened to the Cosmos, I cannot close them again. I wish to share these beautiful visions with all of humanity!" he declared, full of magmanimous righteousness.

From my point of view, good to go. The Rat will have to leave her weapons behind. They do kind of give the game away! (and its more fun being unarmed!). Leaving them in the Ratcoper if thats ok. Ill quickly roll (two full actions) knowledge Current Events and knowledge Streetwise to see if she has happened upon any useful recent rumours or infocmation on Nova Corp Knowledge Rolls: 2#1d20+7 26 15 well, might get a hit with that nice Current Event rolls, maybe!

GM "The sleeper!" muttered Doctor North. "He certainly fits the profile. I don't like leaping to conclusion but its a very good match. It has to be him!" he said, with uncharacteristic certainty. "We have three of the soldiers in FBI custody for debriefing. Its caused something of a political issue, all dealt with out of the media spotlight. But leave the politics to me" he said, carefully. "That's really my job at WEST, greasing the rusty cogs of politics" he sighed. It wasn't the prettiest of jobs, but North had plenty of experience - he had worked high up in the WHO for nearly two decades, and was the perfect mix of skills - diplomat and scientist. "It would certainly be worth a shot, Synapse, if you are willing. It would mean a trip stateside however - I doubt I can get the soliders transported to the UK, even if the states and the UK are strong allies. I have the WEST jumbo jet parked at Heathrow. Fast, smooth, and equipped with top line computers, laboratories, and so on. Even a fishtank. But not jaccuzi, I am afraid" he said. How he had fought for the jaccuzi. But it was, unfortunately, deemed superfulous!

GM And it did not take long. For the magic mesa was dominating the landscape, and twas surely where Abdul was. The Dust Devil flew up to the top, aware of how time and space were distorting. It would be a perilous flight if someone was not innately attuned to the Magic Mesa such as Dust Devil Was. He understood - on many levels - how things worked - and he danced around the spacetimedimensional warping in a remarakbly eloquent jig. At the top of the Mesa - and how on earth Abdul got there was anybodies guess (for now), was Abdul, tending to a small fire on which a number of leafs (of mystic variety as previously envountered) were gently smoking. He was inhaling - with some gusto - the fumes. Adbul was a man of average build, a thick black beard, and arabic descent (although he was second generation and quite American in culture). He had a certain intense handsomeness, augmented by his engrossed state (which made him quite obliviuos to the Dust Devil, it seemed).

GM North politely interjected for expediencies sake. "Almost nothing, I am afraid" he said, demure. "Allow me to fill you in" "Only a few days ago Replice here stopped a theft of Darwin - X, which I understand you are familiar with" he said. "It was the United States only sample, and a very small sample too. We were transporting it, top secret, top security. And yet somebody peeled through all our firewalls and security as it they were butter" he explained. "Our only lead is a mysterious individual known as Mother Board, a hacker. She orchestrated the theft, as far as we can see, and the soldiers who tried to steal the sample were Russian. They referred to a movement, or organisation, known as Red Dawn. Again, we know nothing about this. And the Sodliers who we captured seemed to have no recollection of anything. Like they were hypnotised, or something" he explained. "You can understand the concern. And this at least partially falls under the remit of the World Exotic Science TAsk Force, or WEST. A Dawrin-X outbreak could be catastrophic, and whilst we are coordinating with the World Health Organisation on this matter, it is simply to exotic an organism for them to manage on there own" "It struck me that you, who as part of Vanguard has been involved in tracking down the Virus, has psychic abilties that may help us understand what happened to the soldiers, and lastly - I understand - are an expert in computer systems, would be the perfect person to help us. If you would kindly consider it?" he asked with a little bow.

GM "Aw...Big Mama didn't mean no harm, sir" replied Mister Sting, giving his big grin. "It's just a funny old place, this here" he explained, vaguely, showing Venomax his hut or cave, or whatever it was. "We don't get much company. And, well, Big Mama ain't exactly all there" he said. "Now then, Mama, if you just promise to be good and not eat nobody, then Ahm sure Mr. Venomax will let you go, ain't that right, Sir?" said Mister Sting. "Me no eat you" said Big Mama, although it looked like she didn't say the words easy. "Now, why in the world are you called Venomax, Sir?" asked Mister Sting inquisitevly. "Ah mean, we got plenty of poisons and venoms in this here place. Snakes and Spiders and Scorpions. Yes sir, we got scorpions like you wont believe!"

GM Big Mama was slow at the best of times, and she was slower still now. The goo filled the air with sticky strands, and in the blink of an eye she was webbed over, stuck to the ground, her limbs tight. Because she liked booms so much - and because despite her strength, she could not work her way free, she let loose the other barrel of the shotgun. The shot just clung to the strands which barely parted. "Sting!" "Sting!" she called out, with the frantic fear of the confused. Even living out here by the Mesa, this was a pretty unusual day. "I'm coming Mama!" Mister Sting was quite unlike Big Mama, although it was hard to tell if they were actually genetically related. He was a short, wiry man, in jeans, boots, and a white vest. His hair was thinning and black as his eyes, his skin sun-drenched, of mixed heritage. He had a canny quickness to him, and a toothy grin (with more than one tooth missing). "What in darnation is this?" he said, eyes widening. "And what in darnation are you?" he asked Venomax. "Don't you mind Big Mama here, she ain't too smart, but she wouldn't hurt a fly!" he said as way of opening gambit.

Reflex Saves: 2#1d20+1 9 2 Snared. There is a remote chance she can break free with a STR of 20: Breaks free of snare: 1d20+10 30 but the snare resolutely makes its toughness save! (vs 20 DC), so ill stop combat there and say she is effectively perma-snared! As she has also been poisoned and we are moving out of combat, ill roll that poison effect for prosperity: Save vs Poison Drain: 1d20+10 18 which lowers her DEX to 4! GIven there is no slow fade on the poison, I will guess that recovers fairly quickly however.

The Red Rat The Rat gave a thumbs up. "As I see, we have three goals. Find out what they want to steal, find out why, and find out who is helping them on the inside. Because I am sure someone is" she said. "If we can find out the answers to some of those questions, we might be in a better position to stop the theft..." If we even want to stop it... "Personally, I can't shake the feeling we are being played somehow. But I cant turn my back on this beautiful mess, and I guess you guys can't either" she summarised. "So, Venomax, I think its time we went into the belly of the beast, and hope the Black Mamba and company can keep the heat off our backs whilst we do. Eyes peeled...they may come in any direction!" Or they may be inside already.... "And let's make sure we don't take the rap for the theft. And if we do, we best make a quick getaway!" she half-joked. "Anything goes south, meet up in Liberty Park, by the statue..."

GM With a little water inside, the woman seemed to perk up somewhat. "He...he said only he could go to the Mesa. I just came for...company" she explained. Although quite what the company was...was left unsaid. "I...think I smoked a bit too much. In the sun. Alone...it showed me the cosmos beyond time and space....its...beautiful..." she whispered. Coming too a bit, she focussed her attention on the much less palatable here and now. "Hey, who are you anyway? And why are you asking about Abdul?" she asked, a hint of suspicion in her voice - although she seemed in no condition to do anything about her suspicion.

GM 'Twas both fortunate and unfortunate that the woman was so intoxicated with the leaf's vile fumes. She had no guile or deception in her, and this was fortunate. But, misfortunate too, for she spoke gibberish. "Abdul is at the Mesa. Smoke, he is! Smoke we all are. Just cosmic dust!" she said, rambling. "I study astrophysics at Freedom City Univeristy! I should know!" she added emphatically, gripped by a transient moment of lucidity (and pride). "We were running low on the leaf, and Abdul said he could get us something even stronger! His supplier...the genius who grows the leaf. He is....there!" she said dramatically, pointing at the Mesa itself.

GM The puff of venom hit big Mama straight in the face. She was slow of wit and her responses sluggish, and she was wide eyed and open mouthed as the gas streamed into her. She took one step back and waved at the air with a spade-like hand, but had inhaled the gas already. Slow she might have been, but she had the constitution of an ox, nay! a horde of oxen. She lifted her Shotgun clumsily. "Me boom you! Boom!" she said with that lovely melodic voice quite out of keeping with her brute form and manner. And boom she did, letting a load of buckshot into the air - with Venomax managing to duck past the shot.

As she is flat footed, that just hits! unfortunately, her Fort save is her one saving grace! Fort Save: 1d20+10 18 DEX reduced by 2. Which means it is 6 (So she can resist the poison well, but she is pretty clumsy to start with!) The poison extra is in effect and will kick in a minute later. In response, she will clumsily fire her shotgun at Venomax! Fires Shotgun: 1d20+6 15 and missing!

GM "Boot..." It was a cracked voice but the meaning was clear enough. The boot of the car. And, like the door, it was unlocked. Inside said boot of said car was a jumble of rubbish. Half eaten crisps, maps of the region, a spare tyre, a couple of old books on history and occultism (one actually written in Arabic, from what the Dust Devil could make out), and - yes - a couple of bottles of water. And, almost predictably, was another large leaf. Purple and sweet smelling, dried ready for burning.

GM The door of the buik opened easily enough. In the silence of the desert, it seemed to creak rather loudly. "uhhh...who are you..." The voice was faint and parched, as the woman was clearly dehydrated. Close up now, the Dust Devil could detect a faint, sickly sweet smell. Not sweat or dust, by the lingering aroma that had been present by the bohemians in the Jazz club. This woman had been smoking the mysterious leaf. She presumably was fairly dry, and ill, but perhaps part of her faint headedness was the leaf. "Abdul...get Abdul..." she croaked again.

Could you throw me an attack roll for that, Ex? As big mama is a bit...thick....you have flat footed her.

GM Slowly, the door opened with an alarming creak. "Hoo you?" The voice was deep and rather beautiful, quite unlike its owner. She was nearly six feet, with an enormous frame that spoke of unnatural amount of bone, fat, and muscle. Skin as black as you might ever have seen, with a squat head that seemed built for eating rather than thinking. The woman was dressed in a dusty and filthy dress, and she was sweating. It was an unpleasant sight, for she was remarkably ugly, and the smell was hardly appetising either. And she seemed fierce. A sawn-off shotgun was in one hand. "No-wun here. Yoo go away or me eat you!" she grunted.

as per chat, using masterplan feat with benefit (tactics skill for mastermind feat) Tactics / Mastermind: 1d20+17 31 which I think is enough for the full +3/+2/+1 bonus. Assuming of course the plan is valid!

The Red Rat "I don't think Gas Masks are going to fit in with us going undercover, but point taken" smiled the Rat. "Ill keep my distance if you fart" she said with the faintest snigger. She couldn't resist it! "If you can fly, the Ratcopter will sure be handy" she said to Akhona. A moment or two later... The Ratcopter was parked across the street, on the roof of a two story e-media business that had no idea that a superior soviet spy helicopter was on the roof. There it stood, a one-man micro sized helicopter made of stealth materials, invisible to any radar. Its rotors and engines equipped with sonic-supression technology, it was virtually silent. The Rat showed Akhona the equipment. As a helicopter, the controls were fairly standard, bar its speed and smoke-screen. What made it such a magnificent beast for spying was its array of sensors. It was fortunate that Akhona was so smart. The microphones could analyse and pick up all spectrum of frequencies, even able to compute the sound hitting material objects. In other words, it could hear through walls! "So, I guess we all have our suspicions about whats going on here" she told Venomax, Akhona, and the Black Mamba. "More to meet than meets the eye. Even my eyes" she suggested. "But if there is a theft happening, I bet there will be answers there. For now, I suggest that Venomax and I go undercover inside. Akhona, if you feel you can fly my helicopter, then you can try and work out whats happening here. I can keep in radio comms with you..." she tapped her head. "I happen to have a communicator in my skull" she explained, hoping they did not think her crazy. "And the Black Mamba. Well, that armour may not suit undercover work, but it looks like you are our heavy artillery outside?"

GM "Gragh!" Greenfingers' vocalisation was prime example of who vexation could thwart eloquence. Still, the hair going this way and that caused her to redirect her anger. Perhaps, even, mute it. Just a hint. She pointed an accusatory finger at Gossamer, intent on verbal fury, but not - at least not quite yet - physical violence. "I'm just minding my business! Doing research! Science! Seeing what can be done with cross breeding and genetic mutation! He is the one that steals!" she finished, pointing at Smokey. "Liar!" hissed Smokey. "Aren't you meant to arrest him or something?" asked Greenfingers at Queenie and Gossamer both. "All I did was create a high potency unstable biofuel from mutated orchids! And he purified it into...a glorious bomb!" she snapped, letting an adjective slip rather lazily from her lips.

Indeed! Or that can be fluffed however you wish. Like the grip not strong enough, or you pulled off a boot instead of a foot.

In case needed Intimidate: 1d20+15 33

Starshot "My thinking exactly". And they had a pirate or two captured. It was time for interrogation. Making sure his captive was securely bound, and had no tricks up sleeve (or elsewhere), he gave a little shot of omni-stim to wake him up. "Scum" he started, helmet on, voice modulated to be deep and threatening. "If you want to walk out of this mess with your skin still attached to your body, you are going to answer every question I ask. We can skip the bit where you start bartering and negotiation. This is no barter, this is no negotiation. I am Starshot, and I keep my word. And my word is this... If you talk, you live. If you don't talk, you will wish you were dead..."