Supercape

Rev "Hey Fax! We ain't doing to bad even in this junk!" yelled Rev at Fascimile, as she took another corner at almost too fast a pace. She was sweating. Part of the bane, or boon, of having only about half of your body mass flesh and bone was that any hormones secreted in her body were twice as concentrated. At least initially (until homeostasis kicked in). Adrenaline rushes spiked hard. And she loved it. "Now...if we are gonna win....we better fire the hyperturbine boosters. You did bring the hyperturbine boosters, right?" she yelled at Fax, as a tease. She had no idea what hyperturbnine boosters were. But they sure sounded cool. Now she said it, she wished she actually had some. Might get up a space or two in the rankings!

Rev couldnt make that with a nat 20!

GM In the blink of a cybernetic eye, Replica was searching the internet. Red Dawn. It was of course a term used all over the place, and a particularly common one in various conspiracy websites. A Martian Invasion. A Communist Plot. A killer virus. Even a theory that the world was being saved by humans from the far future, when Sol had turned into a red giant star. It was a mess of references and counter references, and it would take weeks to sort anything coherent out, even at artificial brain speeds. Perhaps nothing ever could be sorted out. But there was one thing Replica noticed when cross referencing terms. There was absolutely no reference, anywhere, of mother board and red dawn. Which suggested someone had written the two terms out of the internet...or more precisely, had ensured that the two terms never came up together.

GM "Sure, I can watch him" replied Amy. "And maybe i might just clean my boot on his face. By accident" she said, winking with her one eye at an angle that the socialite could not see. It took a bit of time, with more mumblings from said socialite, and Amy shaking his f ist at him whenever he did, but searching through the crates and packages, together they found the misplaced item. Wrapped up in cellaphane was a most peculiar leaf. Coloured purple and yellow, thin and slim and very long, unlike any plant either of them had seen. "Thats it! Give it here and we can forget this ever happened!" suggested the socialite, eyes glinting.

GM "Abdul? Sure...he hands a round a jazz bar called the the Yellow Horn. S'where we hang out. The smokehead club. Abdul set it up..." His head began to clear and in doing so home started to stop his tongue from wagging so freely. "Not that you would be welcome... you little guttersnipe! It's not really your class is it?"

GM The rich kid started mumbling again. It was impossible to tell if his brain was misfiring from drugs or the solid right hook Cassidy had given him. Either way, he was rambling and in the midst of his ramblings were some clues! "Abdul found the leaf. Makes your head swim. Through space and time. Whistling flutes. Yellow sigbs. The turk rises in the east. The Red Dawn in the West. Yeah...turns your body and mind to cosmic smoke! We are going to transcend the universe! Abdul found it....majors in philosophy and he knows his stuff..."

GM Even without magic super powers, Cassidy was a strong fellow (as Amy could testify!) the Rich Kid almost lifted off his feet, and landed on his backside, completely stunned. "Wha-wha-what-what happened?" he mumbled, his eyes operating independently and his mouth even more lax than normal. A moment or two passed until he became at least semi-coherent, whilst still completely beat, physically. "You hit me! How dare you! I'm going to make sure you pay for that! I hope you have a good lawyer!" he said, humiliated. "Self - defence, right, Cassidy? You got me as a witness. And, from the sounds of it...you don't really want an investigation" said Amy, bluntly, rather pleased with the situation and completely sticking up for Cassidy even if she was (literally) blind sided to the action. "Nuu-nuuh---noooo...." mumbled the rich kid, cautious now. "But we are going to get the leaf, one way or another!" he said, brain to dazed for subtle thought.

In fact, STR 18! (Nice to have such a high natural STR, and sorry for missing it!) Dust Devil - 3 HP Tough Save: 1d20+1 11 down he goes! Move out of combat, as essentially he is beat!

Cool! Just to be clear you have two choices here: 1. Not using superpowers (STR 14) and gaining an HP for complication or 2. Using superpowers but keeping it relatively non-lethal / obvious. Let me know!

GM The soldier on the ground stumbled to the left, and stumbled to the right, but essentially he was out of options. Disarmed, battered, and alone, and facing Replica who was much stronger, he was soon pushed to the side and cuffed. The helicopter did not stay. Its mission was failed, regretably, and it started peeling off into the sky... In the distance, Replica could hear North and agent Simmons running (and somewhat out of breath) calling her. Being a bit out of breath, of course, meant that it was a rather gasped call! "What happened, are you alright?" summised North fron fifty feet away, yelling as loud as his burning lungs could let him.

No, thats fine, lets waive that! Combat over! (Unless you wish to fire an RPG at the helicopter retreating!)

That certainly hits, and he cannot match that toughness save - but before I post IC that is using your full super strength which will knock him fifty feet across the room! Given super secret ID do you want to use that? (if not, earn an HP for complication).

GM "Data? What are you, a scientist?" As it happens, the Scarab was! Even standing in the middle of the street, with Agent Fields giving he, on a small hand held scanner, the data she had collected so far, was enough to demonatrate that the Scarab was not just a scientist, but a very good one! The data did confirm her suspicions - as far as she could tell. Daka weaponry, the Corrupted Daka Crystal and...wait! Some other type of Daka reading! Something biological! The corupted daka crytsal had empowered a human! (well probably a human. It might have been a dog, or a goat. But something biological for certain!) "That reading there!" pointed out Agent Fields. "I can't work out that one for the life of me!"

Mr Murk "I don't think it will be as easy as that" replied Mr. Murk, cautiously. "If my suspicions are to be believed, he is much much more dangerous than you can imagine, and, I think, quite impossible to kill" he explained. "I am not entirely sure if he qualifies as an immortal..." He paused, finishing off his gin. "The Duke is a master of many arts, but particularly cloning. He is able to clone his own body. An immortality of sorts, I suppose. But only his body. Some fluke of genetics, or psychic power, perhaps. Even magical, maybe. In any case, whilst he has as many bodies as he wants, he has only one mind. He can transfer his body instantly to any of his bodies, whilst the other ones are in a coma" he explained. "It took some considerable resources, both financial and otherwise, to find this out" he added. "Lets just say he has a disgruntled ex-butler...." He paused, mulling it over. "Does this make him immortal? I am not sure..."

Mr. Murk From the shadows, Mr. Murk stepped in. His bowler hat was on his fleshy head, his eyes blind and white, and his mouth turned in that enigmatic sad smile that was his own. He took a seat by the three immortals, a small glass of gin in his hand. "I believe she met me the same way you all did. By invitation" he said in response to Dreadnought's question. "And I thank you all for your efforts today. It is something of a mess, but then, life is always something of a mess" he mused, drinking his Gin. "Morgen. Doctor Sin. Complicated" he summised. "And I am not sure that Duke fellow is quite a stupid as he looks, either. At least, not from his legal expertise. He hired a lawyer, of course. A good one too. But that was a smoke screen, I have come to understand. He knows more about law than his own lawyer..."

GM "What? Shut up, you. You don't know nothing" mumbled the rich kid. "You should learn you...frikkin...place!" he said, louder, just as Amy turned. But it was too late, for the rich kid had stumbled forward and given her a - well, clumsy but effective - right hook. If had been a little more co-ordinated, it might have knocked her out cold. As it was, it was still a mighty clrunch to her head, and she went over, falling to the grown, dazed and confused. "What...what..." she said, as the cobwebs in her head span around and around, and span more webbing from one side of her skull to another. She wasn't getting up just yet, no matter how furiously she told her knees to move. "Give me the damn leaf! I know it got sent here! Abdul gonna be pissed if he dosen't get it back" he sang, lips rubbery and clumsy as he spoke.

Fail!

OOC for this

GM The Rich Kid stepped forward, emboldened by the politeness. "Its some...stuff...." he said, vaguely, his boldness taking a hit. "Vegetables. I mean. Leaves...." His voice trailed off, and he seemed to glaze over. "Its...outa this world man. The smoke. You see the past, and the future. And. Your Body. Like Cosmic Dust...." he mumbled. He snapped too. "I saw it. Here! You Unloading it! the Visions! GIVE IT TO ME!" He was agressive, now, something snapping in his mind. He stepped forward, fists clenched - although whether he would use them or not was another matter. Cassidy knew Amy could handle herself. But the rich kid was approaching for her right - her blind spot...

GM "I think thats about it..." said Amy, hauling out the last crate of...well....who knew for sure given the mix up? Ostensibly, it had "Pasta" on the side. "Excuse me" It was a polite, well spoken voice with a touch of inquisitiveness. It belonged to a well groomed young man. Maybe twenty, who was wearing expensive clothes in a casual style. Jacket, turtleneck, italian shoes, sunglasses, and well groomed short black hair. "Could you help me out? I think we had a delivery mix up" he asked, remaining polite. There was a slight slur to his voice, a sing song quality that was over and above the normal. "I think you got our delivery...."

GM The poor solider once again took the artificial fists to his biological body. His armour was the only thing keeping him on his feet, and even then, it was a close run thing. He sank to one knee, keeping conscious only because of brutal discipline, fervent will. He mumbled something in Russian but he was gasping for breath and half consious, and even womeone who understood Russian perfectly (like Replica) could not understand him. Something about beetroot and steam engines, from the sound of it. Which was not some obscure reference to his mission or superiors, but a testament to lungs out of air, and brain out of synapses. "<You will regret today!>" called out the communications officer, holding onto the helicopter cord with both hands, his grip strong despite all the punishment has taken. "<Fall back! Fall back! Abort!>" he called up to the helicopter, which started ascending, carrying him with him, thirty feet of cable between them.

So the only one standing is the Comms guy, who is going to get lifted off! We may be out of combat, as he is now 30 feet in the sky, but lets see what you can do! For reference RPG Guy Staggered, Bruised x3 Comms Guy, Staggered, Bruised x1 Replice 0 HP, Injured x2

Sorry, I missed this! That hits! Tough: 1d20+7 19 however, he is bruised so that makes 18. Against a DC 23 that is just enough to daze him again and another bruise (for a total of 2) If you could post that IC, lets see what happens thereafter! @Cubismo

GM "Some screw up with the delivery system. Rare goods, rare spices and herbs, that kind of stuff. Look, to be honest with you, I can't swear the people we deal with are always 100% legit, you know?" she explained, rather embarressed. "Not criminals, just people who deal with legal highs, you know" she added. "They get mushrooms and leaves from around the world, all natural like, so its not exactly illegal, even if it isnt legal..." she added, akwardly. "We don't deal with that stuff, its just we got mixed up in their mix up. No dont worry, if the Cops or anyone comes down on you, its all honest mistakes. We got that covered. Its not like we are drug dealers. Just got the bad end of someone mixing up this order with that. As far as I can tell, nothing got shipped wrongly, its just its a mess and we don't know what happened!" She was genuinely embarressed, even shameful. Cassidy knew Amy and the delivery company - they weren't bad people at all, at least as far as he knew. They did deal with local retailers and farmers, and the way she said it, well, it sounded plausible, even probable.

October 5th Twas an average afternoon on an average day, which had little to recommend it to the annals of history other than its remarkable averageness. In a city like Freedom City, however, that meant pretty much anything could happen. Cassidy Collins was in for a non-average day. But it felt, right now, pretty average. Picking up a delivery of groceries around the back of the shop. The driver, Amy Small, was not small. A woman of Cassidy's age, she was a complete gym freak, and knew Cassidy from their local iron-pumping facilities. She was a lithe and tall and sweaty, and kind of beautiful, bar a nasty set of scars, broken cheek and eye patch that were testament to a childhood accident. Her smile was crooked, but cool. She was hauling out heavy boxes from her van. Cassidy was not sure if she had a crush on him. She did tend to smile a lot around him. "Another day, another dollar, huh?" she grunted, shifting another heavy box out of the van full of, this time, tinned soup. "Not how I thought my life would go!" she laughed, although she didn't sound bitter. "We had a major mix up on monday, you know. Whole heap of stuff got screwed up. Not our fault, but just to let you know that if you find any mummies or meteors in these boxes, dont say I didn't warn ya!"