Supercape

GM Iron Works Glass and Gold Codus Immortus: Icy Juice Violence is Golden [43 Posts] Shakedown Head West Rene The Moon Is In Shock (posts to Snakebite) Echohead What Lurks Beneath The Fens Rev The Only Thing I Know For Real Curveball Service Guide point to Mr. Murk GM Posts: First, ensure every non maxed PC has 1 Post / 1 PP Then, bump the following PCs to 25 Posts / 3 PP in thusly order (I am sure it wont get to the end, but just for clarity!) Echohead, Snakebte, Diamondlight, Mr. Murk, Lament, Sgt Shark, Rev, Ronin, Curveball.

GM And thusly it was, That Wadjet and the Lady crept throug the Iron Works. Oh, surely, there were locks (easily disposed of by Wadjet), and bored security guards (easily avoided). The security of the Iron Works was mediocre at this time of night. It might have caught the odd lioterer or vandal, but it was no match for determination, skill, and super-powers. The Iron Works never actually slept; one had to keep the heat on, the fires burning, the metal molten. There were a few night shift persons, but again, they were disinterested, just monitoring the early hours of the morn, watching bad TV and reading trash magazines more than actually paying attention. Easy enough to avoid, but a commotion would alert them. No commotion yet, however. The heat in the centre of the Iron Works was intense and uncomfortable and as they approached through the steel bars amd pipes, past steam and red hot molten metals, it only got worse. Nobody would last long in this heat, and sweating was profuse. And hidden amongst all the higgledy-piggledy bars and pipes, now that one knew what one was looking for, was a ten foot Robot, rotund of girth, looking like it had come from some Victorian Era. Powerful its arms, short its legs, and hissing with steam. And quite (it seemed) dormant.

For reference - although unlikely to come up, the central part of the Iron Works, where Barrelhouse lies, is an intense heat environment (saves every minute).

GM The files where a complete mess. Someone had done a job on them, good and thorough. The level of expertise needed to flip all this data about through the firewalls must have been...exceptional to say the least. Most was lost, beyond anything but divine intervention. But Replica could determine that this was a hack, and that the data had been copied before destruction. She was able to get some bits and pieces of technical data and records. Tweed had made a few AV records which, other than confirming his excitement and involvement in the project where of little importance. A few fragments over the past week where unusual. Particularly, a singer! It seemed like the project had hired a singer; some old black man dressed in outrageous 70s clothes, to croon at the glass, which seemed to respond, melding itself in new and unusual ways to not just the tone, but the timbre of the voice.

So noted; thats enough to get a lot of data!

Looking at the IC post I made, I am a little awkward about a direct cut. If somebody could make one IC post in response Ill do a cut but otherwise it seems just too brutal for my sensitive artistic sensitivities!

GM And so... The lab was a bit of a mess. Such was the nature of Tweed, one might suppose. Coffee cup, donuts, papers all disorganised. Tweed knew his stuff, and his stuff wasn't organisation of office space. "Here we are...well...hmmm...do you want a donut?" he asked, offering a number of slightly stale donuts. "Or coffee?" he added, offering a slightly chipped mug full of slightly cold coffee. The glass was gone. All of it. And there was no glass at all in the lab. No test tube, beaker, or petri dish. All gone. The computers were blank and unresponsive. Powering them up just lead to a blip of corrupted data and the computer shutting itself down soon after.

GM "I'm good, thanks" replied Pixie, breezily. "Like nobody messes with me!" she said, giving a few faux king fu moves to the air. "And if they did, I'd just turn invisible!" She had a think. Not for long, though. Pixie didn't think for all that long on anything. "Look, you are a nice guy and everything, and I want to help you, like you are helping...well, me, I guess. You aren't going to let this mess slip past you, I get that. But I'm not in the habit of giving out my address. My phone, however..." She showed him her mobile, complete with phone number and "ME!" as the contact.

GM Todd, for his part, was to busy wringing his guilty and agitated hands to notice Wadjet's grin (or the wranglings of her mind that had caused it). "In the Iron Works!" he explained. "In the centre, hidden behind more Iron. Heat, you see, nobody goes there. But Barrelhouse is designed to be most heat resistant! Yes, I am quite pleased with my metallurgy!" he said, pride once again seeping into his voice. Such was the way of the genius. "Deactivated, of course. Well, I think its deactitvated, anyway...."

GM "Sure sure..." said Tweed again, not comfortable. Perhaps it was Replica. "Mimetic glass is pretty clever. Not easy to make glass curved without distortions. If it cracks, it would seal over straight away. So handy for engineering and safety, for instance" he said, animated now. "You know how it is with research. Even top secret research. Everybody knows that you are researching something, with all the papers and conferences. They don't know the details, or how far we have got. They could guess, maybe. But I think we had the fine detail locked down..." He pondered. "Its hardly a weapon. Well, it could be used as a weapon, I guess. Exploding glass or spikes of silicon. But really, as far as ASTRO labs go, it would be pretty low down the list of weaponisable developments...I mean, its not an AI paperclip, but its not a hyperdimensional Lens cannon either..."

GM "What is the puzzle? Well...its a puzzle" sighed Pixie. "I can't figure the cube out. I guess that's the point. Dad is bit of a tease" she humphed. "It does strange things every now and again. Like yesterday it reset itself as a wishbone, snapped itself in twain, and reset itself again. Broken Wishbone. I did a google search and..." she shrugged. She hurridly pocketed the cube of infinite puzzles back. "Its dangeous. Probably" she said in hushed tones. "And I'm happy to help, Sherlock. What with me being all clever and stuff like that. And being able to turn invisible!"

DOes anyone want to do a post to that effect or shall I scene cut? (Whilst not very important - if someone could indicate how to travel that would be cool too! I would presume air travel best!)

GM "Did I say Giant Robot? I meant to say Giant Robot. I shouldn't talk about the Giant Robot...I should talk about the Giant Robot instead..." muttered Todd to himself, wringing his hands. "Yes, yes, there is a Giant Robot!" sighed Todd, mourning his situation. "Oh dear oh dear oh dear. I can't get it out of my head. I built a Giant Robot for Emily Eve, the owner of Iron Works. You know, they call her Antique Twist? Because she is twisted. And an antique" he said, angry now. "Ten feet high, cast Iron. Looks like it was built a hundred years ago, but full of modern technology" he said, proud now (his emotional state notably mecurial). "And that's only the prototype. Barrelhouse, his name. She wanted something thirty feet high next time, if not higher!" he explained. "Barrelhouse is but a tool, you see. It can be used wrongly, or rightly. Not intelligent, just a blunt tool" he continued. "But when I heard of that murder, I could only assume it was Barrelhouse. Or more accurately, somebody was using Barrelhouse as a weapon. Oh dear oh dear!"

GM "Thats pretty awesome" said Pixie. "I mean, a lot better than having your head caved in by a girder. Or your elbows smashed. Or your spine shattered. Or...yeah, well a lot better than any of that" she said, biting her tongue. "I'm gladyou were at that concert. I don't like the music much. I mean, I prefer electro-pop and trance-jazz myself. All a bit sweaty and loud for me" she continued. "But it would have been a lot worse if you weren't there, right? You totally smacked that guys ass!" she grinned. "Wait...you aren't part of the puzzle are you? I never can tell?" she added, nervously, as she fidgeted with Cube of Infinite Puzzles that lay, quite inert, inbetween them. Not so nervous that she lost her apptite though. Those two strawberry millkshakes (and large ones, at that), had gone down fast. It was a wonder she was so slim.

GM And so, at the late night Mr Fries, Junk food had been suitably ordered. Pixie had ordered fries (As one pretty much had to, when visiting Mr. Fries) and two extra large strawberry milkshakes. This, she explained, was her like, absolute favourite. She was just as she was now, fully visible, barely five foot, slender, with a cap on her head and cool clothes on her body. "I'm actually called Penny Coin. Thats my real name. Yes, my dad had a sense of humour..." she sighed. "Although I have no idea where he is. Left when I was a baby, with this..." She pulled out a cube convered in dials, buttons, switches, and rotating faces. "The puzzle to end all puzzles. Apparently, its infinite..." she said, giving it a poke. "Whats your story?" she asked Alex.

Curveball Gosh darn it! I'm Curveball! Whose got the best arms? ME! "ME!" she echoed out loud to the crowd. But doubt was creeping in. Before it fungated into her muscles and nerves, she pulled back, took a quick breath and narrowed her eyes. Doubt would have to wait. This was victory or defeat, joy or shame. And once again, she threw the ball...

Curveball I sure can! In most of life, Jazzy was not brimming with confidence. One would not say she was without it, either. She just swam in the normal human soup of doubt, guilt and shame that bubbled away in the soul. But when it cames to sport, well that was a different matter. NO time for doubt there. Just determination, grit, and that competative streak. "I sure can!" she yelled to the crowd and Kaloke, a big smile on her mouth. And so determined, she through the next ball as hard as she could, with an elegant spin.

Take it away then folks! If you are going after Sin lets go for a prompt scene cut to Holland!

GM "Hephasteus...Ptah...." echoed a rather befuddled Mr. Todd. He shook himself from said befuddlement, and back to focus through the blaze of beer. "Er...yes...that one..." he gulped. He slumped into his chair. "Umm...do I get a lawyer or something?" he whispered, afraid now. "I mean, it wasn't my fault! Industrial accident! Health and safety! Due care and attention! Giant robot! Engineering error!" he mumbled, trying to bury the important words in a furious medly of truths and management throwaway statements. "There! I told you everything I know. Sort of!" he said, proudly.

GM Doctor Tweeds past was not, as it happens, obscured. It was fairly plain, in fact. Never married, moved to USA six years ago, a list of papers and academic qualifications. Research, employment, and so on and so forth. Aside from his clear skill in his field, he appeared to be a man notable only for his remarkable blandness. A dedicated, intleiigent man. "We, er, have done some interesting work down the cryo-facilities with near zero silicon chemistry" he said, softly. "Developing mimetic glass, well, that's what we call it. Mostly failures. Mostly. But that's science for you!" His eyes glinted with enthusiasm when it came to his topic of interest. "And, ah, we had a bunch stolen. Well, missing actually. But that probably means stolen..." he conceded. "All our computers went dead. Completely corrupted files. All our data lost. Well, lost to us anyway. I wondered if you might give us your expertise?"

Answers will be in IC!

GM Alex, for his part, could keep up easily enough with the van that was travelling at recklessly high speed. It would certainly catch the eye of any cop patrol, but fortunately it did not. The back streets were used, and the van picked up more than one prang and more than one dent. Pixie, for her part, was struggling to keep up, although she seemed to maintain her invisibility without the slightest bother. "Puff...hufff....puff....can't....go....on...." she wheezed up at Alex.

OOC for This

GM June 26th Morning ASTRO Labs A certain Ms. Cynthia Wright was approached by a certain Mr. Archibald Tweed, known as "Archie" to his friends, colleauges, and pretty much every body who did not want to vex him by calling him Archibald. Mr. Tweed was an chemical engineer, in his late fourties, and most splendid at his Job. A PhD for Oxford, a bright mind, thick glasses and a handsome jaw that would make him an attractive man to the ladies, where it not for the fact he seemed to have little or no interest in activities of the romantic kind, directed at any gender. Perhaps it was glass that attracted him, for he spent all his days studying and experimenting on it. If glass was your need, your need was Tweed. Archie set down a cup of fragrant strong coffee, full of milk and marshmallows and all sorts of deliciousness (one would hope it did not include glass, but one never could tell with Archie) by the desk of Ms. Wright. "Hrmph" he coughed, nervously. "Could you help with ah...ah rather difficult matter? Security breach or cyber crime, or something like that..." he mumbled vaguely.

GM Todd was moderately intoxicated, and took a second or two to pull his brain into gear. "By Hephasteus! What are you doing in my house!" he gasped, scrabbling to his feet. His short stature did not diminish his boldness or intelligence. No, it did not. The beer, however, did. "I mean, whatever you say...don't shoot!" he babbled as his brain clocked the gun. The television was resolutely on. Some cheers went up from some success or another but Todd paid no attention. "What dead woman?" he gulped.