Supercape

GM It was a messy business, and no mistake. TV shows and films showed sanitised heroic fantasies of first aid and resucitation. The reality was a whole lot more filthy. Violent coughing, spasms, vomit, unconsciousness, lungs fighting to get enough oxygen to the brain. But, even if it was a filthy business, it was a successful one. After an age of fitful coughing and wracking body, after scooping out vomit from the airway and hefty blows to the back, the Archer had saved a life. And maintained a source of information. "OK...OK... you saved my life...I get it..." wheezed the drug dealer, eyes bloodshot. "I owe you. Even if you were the one who messed everything up in the first place. I learned my lesson. Dont deal in human drugs... I mean drugs that come from a human. right?" He swept his gaze across the fleshy remains of the albino. "If it was a human..."

Haven Credentials? Haven had none. But this was cyberspace, and Haven was no stranger to creating false credentials either here or in meatspace. He was the man of many faces, many identities. Times slowed, data mutated, and new forms molded. He took out a freshly (cyber) minted Identification badge. "Alfred McNorton: Anti Virus Task Force" "There you go. See? My remit is to ensure global data security. Conclusion: Deleting me would raise risk of data corruption and digital contamination. Query: What is your imperitive? Speculation: You mission is to ensure data integrity. Extrapolation: If so, deleting me would run contrary to your objective." Haven tossed the forged cyber data onto the bar table and awaited judgement. "

Can I take on computers to get a 30 result?

Updated sheet New picture, countless formatting improvements, typo sweep, refinement of character and other areas from his first tear and claremont. And 18 PP spent, bringing him up to PL 9 (Improved saves, attack, defence, improved acrobatics, stealth, disable device, improved feats: skill mastery, elusive target, tracking scent super power, and one extra AP for radiation array - laser sweep [NB: Note the slight change to decreased area to feet - representing he can choose the angle of the sweep - I think it works )

Gamma Buzz (a.k.a the Cockroach Kid) Power Level: 9 (210/217 PP) Unspent Power Points: 7 PP Trade-Offs: +1 Attack/-1 DC, +1 Defence/-1 Toughness In Brief: Radioactive Cockroach Catchphrase: "Gamma Buzz, Baby!” Alternate Identity: Baltazar “Baz” Botez Birthplace: Mexico City Residence: Freedom City / Claremont Base of Operations: Freedom City / Claremont Occupation: Student Affiliations: Claremont Family: Bianca “Biz” Botez (Sister) Description: Age: 17 (DOB 3/3/07) Apparent Age: 17? Gender: Male Ethnicity: Cockroach Height: 5’9” Weight: 75Kgs Eyes: Red Hair: None Gamma Buzz looks like a human shaped insect, covered in a green exoskeleton, big red insect eyes, and two antennae growing out of his forehead. He normally wears battered (often dirty) jeans and converse trainers. History: Baltazar Botez grew up in the slums of Caracas, spending his time playing in a rubbish dump with his sister. His favourite activity was playing with the glowing green cockroaches that scuttled around suspicious rusty canisters. Illegally dumped experimental nuclear waste has strange effects. Whilst his sister mutated her eyes (and can see in infrared and ultraviolet), Baltazar mutated his eyes and everything else, turning into a half-man, half-cockroach radioactive mutant. Fearing prejudice, he and his sister illegally crossed into the USA so that Baltazar could join Claremont, whilst his sister scraped out a living cleaning the sewers and subways of Freedom City (Infrared vision is good for something…) Personality & Motivation Baltazar is a rumbunctious rapscallion who likes to play rather than study. He is keen to prove daredevil bravery. His hobby is electronics and DJ, and aims to set up his own pirate radio station in the future. Underneath the extravert personality, Baltazar is wounded; he is an insect, with no genitalia and (in his mind) a monster with no chance of getting a girl. He is awkward around females, and gets very angry with bullies. Baltazar is still working out his future. Part of him wants to be a hero, if nothing else to impress the girls and gain acceptance. He has a passion for the underdog and wants to help his sister. A rebellious streak in him makes him fancy himself as a “Punk Hero” – hence the pirate radio station. Powers & Tactics: Gamma Buzz has insect like strength, agility and senses. His armour-plated skin affords some protection and allows him to crawl along walls and ceilings. He is immune to radiation, and at the same time can emit radiation in various forms. Tactically, he would generally prefer to crawl along a ceiling and dramatically surprise people. He generally fights with his fists, whilst glowing green (Aura Nauseate Power). Whilst his sensitive eyes can see throughout the EM Spectrum, this also makes him vulnerable to dazzles. He has a penchant for signing “GBB” (Gamma Buzz, Baby) with an elegant twist of his laser vision. Power Descriptions: Gamma Buzz’s radioactive powers look like green light. This includes his laser vision (which is also coloured green). His “Mutate” power looks like a sickly yellow green, whilst his “Dazzle” power looks more like a bright white-green. Complications: Half Insect: Gamma Buzz is half insect. He looks ugly and stands out easily, making disguise almost impossible. In addition, certain pesticides and chemicals will affect him if they target insects. Big Impact: He is no more vulnerable to impact damage / effects than the next cape, but impact can easily dislocate his limbs. He can pop them back into place, but that takes time and hurts like hell. Vulnerable Antenna: Even an average guy (or girl) can easily tear of his Antenna. They regrow back eventually, but without them he will lose his tremor sense and detect radiation tactile sense. Green Light: Some of his powers (particularly the laser vision) will be markedly less useful, or ineffective, against green coloured objects (or people). Gamma Buzz sometimes forgets this. Signature Move: Gamma Buzz will normally celebrate a victory (or perceived success) by carving his signature (GBB or Gamma Buzz, Baby) into surfaces with his laser vision, Apart from the trouble this vandalism might cause, it can delay him. Struggling Sister:: Has very limited wealth (mainly from his struggling sister, who is also a potential vulnerability for Baltazar). Radiation Pressure: Even without actively using his radiation powers, Gamma Buzz is radioactive enough to be easily spotted and tracked by a Geiger counter or those with suitable senses. He also has to periodically use his powers (he will feel a pressure build up) after a few hours or he will lose control of them (for instance, unwittingly releasing an extra effort radiation burst at a bad time) inadvertently releasing his radiation in an attempt to let of steam / release the pressure. Like a brick. Despite his strength, Baz has never learned to swim and will thrash about in water. Whilst he can, technically, swim (due to his incredible strength rather than skill), he will be slow, ineffective, noisy, etc as suits the plot. To make matters worse, he has, against all wisdom, the urge to belly flop into any body of water because it makes a great splash. Easily read. When tense, anxious, or angry, his antennae will stiffen and then start trembling. Those who know him well (or the very astute) can read this, potentially making bluffs or tilts easier. Abilities: 16 + 18 + 12 + 2 + 0 + 4 = 52 Strength: 26 (+8) Dexterity: 28 (+9) Constitution: 22 (+6) Intelligence: 12 (+1) Wisdom: 10 (+0) Charisma: 14 (+2) Combat: 20 + 20 = 40 Initiative: +13 (+9 Dex, +4 Improved Initiative) Attack: +10 Defence: +10, +5 Flat Footed Grapple: +20 Knockback: -4 (-3 for Critical hits) Saving Throws: 6 + 3 + 5 = 14 Fort +12 (+6 Con, +6) Reflex +12 (+9 Dex, +3) Evasion 2 Will +5 Tough +8 (+6 Con, +2 Protection), +6 vs Critical Hits Skills: 72 Ranks = 18 PP Acrobatics 14 (+23) Skill Mastery Bluff 4 (+6) Computers 4 (+5) Craft (Electronics) 4 (+5) Disable Device 4 (+5) Skill Mastery Escape Artist 12 (+21) Skill Mastery Knowledge (Popular Culture) 4 (+5) Language 2 (English, Portuguese, Spanish [Native]) Notice 4 (+4) Perform (DJ) 4 (+6) Sense Motive 4 (+4) Stealth 12 (+21) Skill Mastery Feats: 8 PP Acrobatic Bluff Elusive Target Evasion 2 Favoured Environment (Sewers) Improved Initiative 1 Prone Fighting Skill Mastery 1 (Acrobatics, Disable Device, Escape Artist, Stealth) From powers: Uncanny Dodge [Tactile] Powers: 2 + 13 + 1 + 3 + 1 + 39 + 1 + 2 + 4 + 4 + 5 + 5 = 80pp Features 2 (Autoamputation [can, as a move action, harmlessly auto amputate limbs, digits, or armour plates; amputations are dead once separated and cannot be reattached], Iron Stomach [can eat anything]) [2 PP] Immunity 13 (All Radiation Effects, Hot and Cold Environments, Disease) [13PP] Immunity 2 (All suffocation, Flaws: Limited to holding breath for extended periods [substitute rounds for minutes]) "Cockroach lungs" [1 PP] Leaping 3 (x10 Distance. Running 180’, Standing 90’. High 45’) [3 PP] Protection 2 (Drawbacks: Weak spot) [1 PP] “Armour plates” Radiation Array (32 PP Array, Feats: Alt power 7) [39 PP] (Radiation Descriptor) BP: Blast 8 (Extras: Penetrating, Feats: Improved Range 3 (800’ Increments), Progression: Maximum range 3 (x10), Precise, Incurable) [32 PP] “Laser Vision” AP: Damage 8 (Extras: Area [Cone], Penetrating, Feats: Decreased Area 7 (Width and Height only, 10’-80’), Incurable) [32 PP] “Laser Vision Sweep” AP: Damage 8 (Extras: Area [Cone], Alternate Save [Fortitude], Feats: Reduced Area 6 [20-80' Cone], Incurable, Insidious) [32/32 PP] "Nuclear Breath" AP: Dazzle 8 (10-200’ Radius, Visual plus Radio Senses, Extras: Burst Area, Feats: Decrease Area 6, Increase Area 2, Flaws: Range) [32 PP] AP: Environmental Control 5 (100’ Radius, Extreme Heat, Extreme Light, Heavy Radiation, Extras: Independent [+0], Feats: Selective [Mix and match effects], Slow Fade 6, one day, Flaws: Range [touch]) 32 PP “Irradiate Ground” AP: Nauseate 5 (Extras: Sustained Aura [+3], Contagious, Feats: Selective Aura) [31 PP] “Radioactive Glow” AP: Nauseate 5 (1-50’ Cloud, Extras: Range, Contagious, Cloud Area, Feats: Decrease Area 5, Increase Area 1) [31 PP] “Fallout Bomb” AP: Transform 8 (Mutation to Mutation, 250lbs, Extras: Continuous- countered by medical treatment, Flaws: Random [No control over what power points are turned into]) 32 PP “Mutation Beam” Regeneration 0 (Feats: Regrowth) [1 PP] Speed 2 (25 mph) [2 PP] Super Movement 2 (Wall Crawling 2, Full Speed) [4 PP] Super Senses 4 (Infravision, Ultravision, Low Light Vision, Scent, Tracking [Olfactory]) [5 PP] Super Senses 4 (Tremor Sense, Tactile Detect Radiation, Feats: Uncanny Dodge [Tactile]) [5 PP] “Antennae” Super Strength 2 (+10 STR, total STR 36) [4 PP] Drawbacks: -2 Vulnerability (EM base dazzles including light; Frequency: uncommon; Intensity: Moderate [x150%]) [-2PP] Totals Attributes 52 + Combat 40 + Saves 14 + Skills 18 + Feats 8 + Powers 80 - Drawbacks 2 = 210/214

Enough to be scintelating but not spectacular

Spore in Fields of Summertime The weather was idyllic for most; an unfiltered sun cooled by a light breeze. The Vineyards awash with heat and light, the grapes ripening as fast as they could be plucked. This was the Hale Vineyard, producers of fine independent wines for the past fifty years. Just two years ago, they had been ablaze. Half a dozen people had died, including Harper Hales parents. This was the first time she had returned. To close that gaping wound, to unwind the knot of scar tissue that had formed around her heart. She was driven from nearby San Fransisco by Aunt, who harboured an equally eccentric name, Jazz. She was not a musician; by her own admission she was tone deaf and without any sense of timing. She was, however, quite chaotic and extremely free spirited. Jazz had taken over the running of the Vineyard without any experience, but she had a truckload of intelligence and an eye for the nature of men. She could see through a lie like an X-Ray. “Surviving?” she asked Harper as they pulled into the Vineyards in Aunt Jazz’s purple sports car. Jazz wore the most wide brimmed hat she could, with a feather stuck on. Her Cigarillo was lit and she puffed smoke out of pursed lips. “I’m ok,” said Harper, wearing wide sunglasses and a baseball cap, trying to keep as much of her skin out of the sun as possible. She burned easily, in body and soul. “That sounds rather like a lie, Harper dear. It sounds rather like a lie.” Harper smiled. “What, you never lied, Aunt?” “Don’t call me Aunt, dear. It reminds me I have responsibilities. And the only way to manage responsibility is to ignore it. Responsibilities cause premature aging, you know.” “Is that why you look fourty?” Jazz laughed. “Why yes it is dear. And the smoking and drinking. I am actually seventy nine, you know.” Jazz drove up to the edge of the Vineyards, delighting in the heat, the view, and her own lies. “I hope you don’t grow up to tell the truth, Harper, It is so frightfully dull. And often untrue.” Together, they stepped out of the sports car. Jazz took Harpers clammy and tremulous hand in hers, saying not a word. For all her anarchic nature, Jazz knew when to stay silent. To simply be there. She had looked after Harper for two years as her legal guardian. She knew her ward. She also knew Harper Hale was Spore. And she knew all that Spore could do. “Are you going to sweat out that hallucinogen?” she asked. Harper shook her head. “Shame. I shall have to drink some wine instead. The Evenings are not to be experienced sober. They are much like the mornings in that regard.” Harper rolled her eyes. “Drink isn’t the answer.” “Nonsense, Harper. Drink is the answer to many questions, such as What should a man in a desert do?” “I meant drink alcohol.” “So did I, dear. So did I!” Harper groaned. “I’ll report you to social services!” she said, grinning wildly. “Aren’t they the folk that aren’t social and don’t provide a service?” Harper didn’t quite agree. They had been kind enough, when her parents died. She let go of Jazz’s hand and ran two dozen yards ahead, hands outstretched, feeling the texture of the vines, reaching out, picking some plums, popping them in her mouth. “Tasty?” asked Jazz. Harper nodded. “Healthy.” That was something. A place of death, now bringing life. All the ash in the soil, maybe. Her parents ash. The thought gave her a shudder, but it was therapeutic. The fancy that her parents lived on, in some symbolic way. And yet she couldn’t quite face the singular most horrific memory of them all. She kicked of her sneakers, felt the earth beneath her toes. The soil was dry on the surface, almost cracked, but the cilia of her symbiotic fungus could burrow a little deeper. There, moisture beneath the surface, feeding the vines. She fancied she could feel, smell the ash in the soil. It was fertile. This was a place of life. Jazz took her time catching up, perambulating at a leisurely face, fingers brushing the vines, rubbing then, caressing the grapes yet not eating them. Too precious a fruit to waste on eating, in her opinion. She waited before speaking, wise to Harpers closed eyes, slow tears, trembling skin. “It’s exhausting, running from a painful memory. I am far too lazy to do so. But some are not blessed with my extraordinary laziness. Some have to choose.” “That’s what this is all about?” asked Harper. Jazz shrugged. “It’s a slice of the cake.” “Not the best slice.” “No, not the best. But a slice you have to eat before you get to the good stuff.” Harper opened her eyes and turned to face her aunt. The tears were there, unrestrained, unresisted. “What good stuff is there, here? It holds bad memories. You weren’t there.” “It holds good memories, too.” “The good memories just make the bad ones hurt more.” Jazz gave a subtle shake. “And maybe the bad ones make the good ones richer. Don’t let one consume the other, Harper.” “Easy for you to say,” “No. Not easy,” said Jazz, voice steely. “I never met a soul whose heart isn’t scarred from regret and pain. And the longer you walk through life, the more scars on your soul. But scar’s aren’t a failure, they are a story. Would you want to walk through life without shedding a tear?” Harper paused. “I guess not, although… sometimes I wish for it, all the same.” “Spend the summer here with your memories. Be like a boxer, lean into the pain. If you fear your memories, you fear yourself. Not a win.” Harper nodded, slow, sad. And so began three summer months of sunshine, grapes, running, laughing, crying. Being busy in a that relaxed way – picking fruit, making cheese, and even, yes, a little bit of carefully supervised (by a sort of adult) wine tasting. It was, they both agreed, best done now. Harper ran further than she ran before, until she was breathing fire and her stomach did flip flops in her tummy. She needed to be physically fit. She practiced mindfulness, meditation, yoga. She needed to be mentally fit. For come the end of summer she would be facing a new chapter in her life, and potentially a hard one. A chapter she wanted to swim in, not drown. She was going to Claremont, not just as Harper Hale, but as the amazing Spore!

Spore Reputation [+1 PP] Vignette (1.1 K Words) 20Q [+1 PP] Bloody Mess [Maxed] Unseelie against Steel [3 Posts] -> Roll to Spore Gamma Buzz Doom Room Troop [2 Posts] Snakebite Treasures of the Himalayas [7 POsts] -> Roll to Spore Haven Vignette [1.1K Word] Operation Ares [3 Posts] Captain Cosmos Vignette [1.2K Words] -> Roll to spore Diamondlight Vignette [1.1K Words] -> Roll to spore Echohead Dennis Deacon [10 Posts] GM Monorail Mayhem [9 Posts] The Sun in the Shade [4 Posts] Cool Drugs [3 Posts] Hot and Bothered [4 Posts] Total GM Posts = 20 x2 = 40 Bonus Posts Allocated: 10 to Haven (to reach 10 Posts = 2 PP) with Vignette should be +4 PP total 8 to Gamma Buzz (to reach 10 posts = 2 PP) 10 to Peak (to reach 2 posts = 2 PP) 10 to Sgt Shark (to reach 2 posts = 2 PP) 2 spare. If I miscounted Spore or Echohead, boost them, otherwise lost to the void. Spore should be 9 PP total (2 posts, 4 rollover Vig, 2 own Vig, 1 20 Q), Echohead should be 2 PP total (10 posts)

Haven Haven's brain normally worked fast, but now he felt his CPU overlocking so fast that it threatened to crash. He was not a liar; never had been. But one could manipulate with the truth. "The system is infected," he said. "And you are trying to clean it." This much was his best guess. The Scarecrow was some kind of ICE. Or antibody. "But I am a visitor, not an infection. I am here to find out what has corrupted the castle. Query: I am a threat? If so, why?"

Echohead "Porca Vacca!" said Echohead, wrestling with the clutch. He was an excellent wrestler, completely destroying his opponent. The clutch gasped and whined in abject defeat, sending ominous rumblings through the engine. With the final crunch into the wall, the ambulance was gone. "Ah! I tried!" said Echohead, lamenting his failure. He was not an angry man by nature, but he still punched the dashboard with both hands. "I hope you brought your Predator zombie-repellant spray. Looks like we might need it," he said, looking into the shattered remains of the wing mirror, and seeing the army of Deacons lumbering towards them. "Or have you got anything else we can use?" He glanced down to the Variable Gun in his lap. "Maybe I can dazzle them... some of them...."

Snakebite Cassie raised an eyebrow - surprised that anyone could be that bad a liar. Her hands twitched, wondering whether to reach for her whip or dart pistol. Her snakeblood made her as strong as any human, and faster still. She was an expert in capoeira and brazillian jui jitsu. And yet- this was Baiyun's territory. He would be weathered and tempered by the harsh mountains, and it was unwise to underestimate anybody in their home territory. If they were anywhere else, she would be totally confident. Here - there was room for a sliver of caution. "And I'm sure you are Baiyun," she said, smiling, a glint in her eye. "What's interesting is why are you trying to run? What have you got to hide?" she said - not moving forward, but not backwards either. "I heard you are a notorious liar, Baiyun. So come on, lets see what lies you spit out now. They might be amusing."

Ok! Could you do a scene cut to your FUN EXCITING ENTERTAINMENT VENUE of your chosing? And lets roll a straight CHA roll to see how entertaining you can make it! (Unless you want to do Perform - Comedy) or something

GM "ooooh! Shiny!" said Mr Metal, "A watch? Can I see it?" His metal jaw was slightly agape. His metal eyes were very agape. "A dog, you say? A fire truck? That sounds fun. Does it spit out fire? From its mouth? That would be awesome. You could totally burn down all this horrible organic matter, right? Thats the fun thing about this dimension, all this carbon and stuff. Not like back home. Everything is metal. BO-RING!" "Well what are we waiting for? Take me to this fire truck! I want to see it spit fire!" He hopped from one metal foot to another in anticipation, simultaneously clapping his hands.

the thug has just inhaled his own vomit, so DC 10 Medicine to revive him. DC 5 will save his life but he will be unconsious and seriously injured from hypoxia (i.e. needs medical attention immediately)./

GM The flayed flesh did not burn. It did not even tingle. But it did smell foul; like slightly singed offal. The tendrils of odour crawled up the archer's nostrils and played a hellish tune. The snared drug dealer was not so lucky. Unable to move, he had taken a face full of spleen and guts, and was retching. Unable to contain himself he managed to vomit into his own mouth and then start gagging.... And then convulsing... And possibly worse!

Apologies for delay and GM fiat! Jack finds himself fatigued. But he now has HP 2. The spirit sunshade has now evaporated, so no immediate threat. The ball is again in Jacks court - what is he going to do

GM Slowly, the Shadow started to solidify. It was a subtle thing, to be sure, but it was there. What was a barely perceptible darkness now had edges, a density. Not fully intangible, but no longer an ethereal ghost. And all the while the smile started getting stronger. The burning smile widened. "I can feel the rage, the anger. The beast you have leashed. I could not hope for a fatter pig..." it mused, burning eyes raised skyward. The shadow rubbed its stomach. "You can call me Sunshade..." it whispered. "The burning heat, contained. That is my nature...." And with that, in the blink of an eye, it evaporated into dark shadow and streamed into Jack. And then it was gone, leaving Jack with a heavy weariness...

GM The scientist paused, hand hovering over a computer keyboard. "Or I set them loose..." she said, waving her hand over the six cylinders full of blue fluid and floating bodies. "And you don't want that, believe me. I don't want that, either, to be honest. I don't know what will happen, but it won't be anything good." The woman's voice had the edge of squeak, her skin that palid sweat, all indicating extreme nervousness. And she wasn't even trying to hide it. "I haven't perfected the programming yet. Letting them out would be like letting supercharged babies out onto a minefield. Your guess is as good as mine." Her eyes narrowed. "How did you get here? I mean, I know you got here by plane. I did everything to try and stop you. And yet you managed to get here anyway. Impressive. How?"

GM The scientist paused, hand hovering over a computer keyboard. "Or I set them loose..." she said, waving her hand over the six cylinders full of blue fluid and floating bodies. "And you don't want that, believe me. I don't want that, either, to be honest. I don't know what will happen, but it won't be anything good." The woman's voice had the edge of squeak, her skin that palid sweat, all indicating extreme nervousness. And she wasn't even trying to hide it. "I haven't perfected the programming yet. Letting them out would be like letting supercharged babies out onto a minefield. Your guess is as good as mine." Her eyes narrowed. "How did you get here? I mean, I know you got here by plane. I did everything to try and stop you. And yet you managed to get here anyway. Impressive. How?"

The Red Rat in The Iron Age Termirator. The sun had set, the night was born. And all was not well at Yakasuri tower. Thirty floors of prime real estate, and the top floors now filled with hostages from the evil OVERTHROW terrorists. The terrorists had already fired missiles, gas bombs, and a hail of high calibre bullets at the police at the ground level, and had twenty frightened hostages. The police were powerless to act. SWAT teams went over the architectural blue prints again and again, trying to find some angle in, some plausible means of rescue. Negotiators negotiated, without success. Every hour, another hostage was shoved from the top floor, making a grisly death on the pavement below. People were even considering capitulating to the terrorists demands: the immediate release of all incarcerated members of OVERTHROW. “Dammit!” yelled Lt. Powell, smacking his fist onto the blueprints, knocking his coffee over the map. “Double Dammit!” he added, lighting up a cigar to calm his nerves. “These scum got us by the googlies!” “I say we just storm the place,” said Sgt. Robinson, fully kitted out in SWAT gear, his hands resting on a submachine gun by his chest. “Hostages are dead meat. All we can do is make sure we deal with the garbage.” Lt. Powell was having none of it. “They are citizens, dammit! Protect and serve? Remember what you signed up for?” “I signed up to kick ass,” said Robinson. A sleek black truck pulled up by the tactical station, engines rumbling, dry ice fuming from the undercarriage, everything about the truck screamed “ominous coorperate technology.” Men in grey laboratory coats and black tinted goggles scurried out, preparing for the reveal… “What the hell is this?” said Lt Powell. One of the scientists turned to the cop. “Special delivery. Omnicybernetics at your service?” “Omni what?” The scientist smirked. “The future of law enforcement!” With a hiss of steam and powered hinges, the back of the truck opened, releasing a cloud of cool dry ice. One boot at a time, a figure stepped out. Dressed in skin-tight red Kevlar and a pair of dark glasses. A woman, short, but clearly strong. “Meat Robo-Rat!” said the Scientist. “What the hell?” said Robinson. “What’s this, some kinda joke? “Not at all. Robo-Rat is a cyborg, most of her brain is replaced by computer technology. Enhanced reflexes, precision aim. Sub-dermal plating, internal life support. You won’t get a tougher policeman in the force. Built for counter-terrorist operations. Robo-Rat!” “Insert Mission Parameters.” Said the Roborat, in a dull, flat voice. “Show em what you can do.” Robo-Rat strode to the SWAT weapon rack, scanned the available firearms. “Uzi Nine Millimeter,” she commented, picking up one submachine gun in each hand. The scientist, full of pride, turned to the SWAT commander, Robinson. “Say, why don’t you test her out? Point your gun at her. Threaten her.” With a sigh, Robinson pulled out his glock and pointed it at Roborat. “I’m going to shoot you,” he said, lazily. The Roborat brought up both uzi’s. “Put down your weapon and surrender. You have ten microseconds to comply…” she said, and instantly opened fire. The bullets ripped through Robinson, sending him flying into a riddled pool a dozen feet away. “Microseconds?” screamed the scientist. “It was ten SECONDS! Somebody is going to pay for that. I am VERY disappointed!” As the shocked cops started to clean up the bloody mess that used to be Robinson, Roborat scanned the tower building. “I’ll be back,” she said, and started making her way to the building. Even Powell was impressed with the cyborgs silence, stealth. She – it – was like a ninja. With guns. They could follow Roborats progress through the building; a live feed from her cybernetic eyes to the tactical station in the truck. The Roborat cut through defences – electronic security systems fizzed out, ID readers beeped green. “Datalink hacking,” explained the scientist. “Our unit can cut through military grade cybersystems.” And conventional locks, too, it seemed. Extending out one pinky finger, a small skeleton-key system slid out from her digit and made short work of the interior locks. The Red Rat plunged to the basement. Here, the terrorists had set up explosives linked to laser wires. “Infared vision,” said the scientist, pointing at the screen with a smug smile. “Roborat can bypass! Observe!” The two Uzi’s swung up, and, with cybernetic precision, a single bullet was fired out of each machine gun. The synchronised bullets hit both ends of the laser trap simultaneously, shorting it out. “100% efficiency!” said the scientist, clapping excitedly. The Red Rat strode to the buildings backup generator, and fired two full clips of Uzi’s. The generator fizzed, showering the Red Rat with sparks. She did not blink, her face a stony mask. The lights went out. “Now, for some real action!” said the Scientist. The police huddled closer to the screen, engrossed in the carnage. The Roborat methodically picked her way up thirty flights of stairs. The terrorists were in the dark, progressively terrified. Uzi nine millimeters blazed in the dark. When ammunition ran out, the Roborat used snake style kung fu – steel fingers jabbing into windpipes. She then picked up the weapons of the terrorists, appropriated them, and carried on, guns blazing. Every shot, pin point accuracy. Finally, at the top of the tower, the terrorist leader, his hand on the trigger that would detonate a series of explosives. The explosives were not easily disarmed; for they were strapped to the twenty remaining hostages. “Not another step, cop!” he said, finger on the flashing red button. “Or I blow the whole place!” “Dead or alive. You are coming with me. I am the Law.” She took a step forward, but paused when the terrorist started to press the button. “Stalemate, cop!” laughed the terrorist. “I want a helicopter, ten million pounds, and…” “I do not authorised to negotiate with terrorists. Dead it is,” said the Roborat. “No… wait…” said the Terrorist, nerve failing spectacularly. PEOW! The Roborats Uzi flared on more, releasing a clip of fiver rounds, all delivered within a 2 millimeter square inch, straight through the skull of the terrorist, mushing the brains with a shockwave, destroying the spinal cord at the base of his skull. Even if the terrorist had decided to press the button, there was no connection between his brain and limbs to dail in the command. The hostages, the police, even the scientists all erupted in applause. “Say, Roborat,” said Robinson, talking into the computer microphone. “Do you have any message for the kids watching?” “Stay out of trouble. Don’t do drugs. Obey the Law.”

Snakebite The Sherpas were the ones to ask, though Cassandra. Nobody would know the mountains like them, and nobody would know the comings and goings like them either. She sauntered to the bonfire, huddled in her coat, hands in her pockets. "Hello," She started. There was no particularly good way to start the conversation, at least not one she could think of. So best to plough on, and cast aside anxiety. People picked up on anxiety, and it made them anxious. Fear was contagious. "Apologies for the intrusion. But I am looking for someone, someone called Baiyun. Do any of you know the name?"

GM The entity's smile broadened. "But you don't know what I feast on, do you?" It stood up straight, stretched, patted its shadowy stomach with shadowy hands. "Good. Good you don't know. I had thought Rocky was a fine meal, but you, my dear... you are a banquet! Mmm...mmm....mmm....I can feel it, the cap on the bottle. The plug in the engine. the steam!" "I'm not going to eat you. I doubt I could, even if I wanted to. Not yet, anyway. I don't feast on flesh. Flesh feeds on flesh. I am a spirit, and a spirit feeds on spirit." He shook his hands. "And do not worry, I am not going to consume your soul. I am more of a symbiote than a parasite, you would say. Many have called me a blessing, although some have called me a curse."

4 for Drive. And that is awesomely bad enough to keep