Supercape

GM One of the groaning firemen, bent over double, hands over her mouth, flashed Dwayne a glare. "Easy for you to say..." she said, before violently vomiting once again. "Har har har! PUNY FLESHLINGS!" said the big brother. The blast of energy smashed him straight in the middle of a laugh, right between the eys. He spun, and the impact pushed him right back into a steel girder, where flailing arms and legs swirled. Fortunately, the buzzing vibration stopped.

16 so bruised and dazed, meaning you are up again!

1. Where is your hero from? San Fransisco 2. How would your hero physically describe him/herself? Is this different from how others would? Pretty average. I am – I think – transgender, and open about it, but most people would think I’m a girl. Maybe a tomboy. And sometimes, I have bad skin. 3. Does your hero have distinguishing speech characteristics or recurring mannerisms? I run my hands through my hair when I’m thinking. 4. What is your hero's motivation? First, do no harm – which is important when you are in a symbiotic relationship with a mutated fungus. So that mean’s controlling it. What else? Some day I need to work out what to do with the family estate, and the memories of mother. And then I have a duty to use my powers for something positive. So I guess work out what that positive is going to be. 5. What are your hero's greatest strengths and weaknesses? Open mindedness is my greatest strength. There is a grain of truth in everything, and I always change my mind. My greatest weakness is speaking my mind, even if that offends someone. 6. What does your hero love? What does your hero hate? Interesting people are the best people. Fanatics, Idealogues, Cultists are the worst – people who know they are right and wont rest until everyone else conforms. 7. How would you describe your character's mental and emotional state? Healthy. I practice meditation, mindfulness, relaxation and self awareness, and go to therapy. But… I can get anxious about how healthy I am. 8. What does your hero fear the most? Burning alive. Or maybe accidentally setting a fire that burns someone else alive. 9. What is your character's greatest ambition? Save the world. Create a new strain of blue cheese. 10. How does your hero feel about the state of the world and his/her place in it? It depends where you are in the world, it’s a big place and its hell in North Korea, Swell in the states. I am concerned about the rise of populism and ideologies. 11. Does your hero have any prejudices? How does he/she get along with others? No – I make great efforts to avoid any prejudices. We are all victim to some unconscious bias, by prejudice has to be something conscious. 12. Where do your heroes loyalties lie? In what order? People. Democracy. Freedom. 13. Does your hero have a lover or partner? How do they feel about the hero now? Not yet. But one day… 14. Does your hero have a family? What is the relationship there like? I have an Aunt, who manages the estate. I love her, and I think she loves me. 15. How would the people closest to your hero describe him or her? Introverted but not shy. Uncertain but still decisive. 16. Is your hero a role model? I try very hard to have no role models as everyone is a mixed bag. But Jesus was cool. 17. How spiritual is your hero? Does your hero follow a relgious tradition? I’m an atheist, or maybe an agnostic, interested in some spiritual practices. I wouldn’t close my mind to religion. Like, why was Jesus a role model? Because I think he was a cool dude without believing he was the son of God. 18. Is your hero part of a team, or would he/she like to be? Why? Not yet, but Claremont is a soup of possibilities. 19. How does your hero feel about the place of metahumans and aliens on Earth? My concern is power differentials. The strong can easily dominate the weak. How do we prevent it? 20. If you could give one piece of advice to your hero, what would it be? Take half the advice you are given.

20 Q

Snakebite Cassandra took the card gladly. A vague thought manifested as she did - that Baiyun was some super ninja who would snatch away the card and use it as a shuriken. Or maybe it was poisoned. But Snakebite was immune to poison, and Cassandra knew it was a silly notion. A few silly notions did keep her on her toes, though. "I can handle a few rough climbs" she replied, confidently. At least - she sounded confident. Whether she was or not, was another matter. She could climb, and climb pretty good. But this was the Himalayas. "And thanks for the warning about the bridge..." she said. "If you guys want, I'll see if I can get it fixed up, hows about that?" How hard could fixing a rope bridge in the middle of the night halfway up a mountain be, after all?

GM "Settled DOWN is it? HAR HAR HAR! I hear you FLESHLINGS cant stand up!" The vibrating metal of the fire station started vibrating at a tremendous speed. Ultrasonic waves ripped through Dwaynes body - and that of the firemen. The concrete floor cracked, and every single piece of metal in the firestation, including the flooring, started vibrating so fast it looked like it was blurring. Around him, the Firemen of the station started clutching their head and hurling their guts, their inner ear unable to cope with the movement and sound. The smell of vomitus had a cascade effect, causing more and more men and women to empty their own stomaches. And the smell didn't help Dwayne maintain control of his own innards either...

15 for Big Brother Round 1 15 - Big Brother - Unharmed 7 - Dwayne - Bruised - 4 HP Big Brother will start off with a VIBRATION attack! This is a Nauseate 8 effect from the motion, which will effectively wipe out (but not KO) the fire men. Reflex 18 and Fort 18 (or 14) saves!

Thats a fail by 4, which means a bruise but nothing else

GM The three thugs laughed, each pulling out a small knife. "Get lost, big guy!" laughed one. "This piece of meat crossed Blowfish. And only fools cross Blowfish!" The other two laughed in uninson. "So he's gonna get cut up into pastrami!" laughed the first thug. "Nice and slow, and bloody!" The other two thugs nodded emphatically. "So get lost unless you want a... slice... of trouble!" The other two cavorted and convulsed with laughter at the terrible pun. "And don't get no funny hero ideas, Ruski! You are a big man, sure, but there are three of us and one of you. Even if you are more like two of you."

GM "Oh! Do I now? I need to stop it, do I? What are you, my mother?" "I want my mommy!" said Mr. Metal. "Thats because you are a BABY!" Mr. Metal carried on sobbing. "You are just a FLESHLING!" laughed big brother. "A FLESHY FLESHLING from FLESHVERSE! Who are you to tell me what to do! HAHAHAHAHA! I'LL SHOW YOU THE POWER... OF METAL!!!!" And with that, he emerged from the steel banisters above. Six feet tall, three feet wide, broadly humanoid in shape, his metal features in some manic grin of confidence and cruelty. And his hands - like morning stars - spiked to the max!

Pretty unknown - but then, Predator is super smart! A DC 20 INT check would recognise her. And if Predz recognises her, she will probably know back story. Synth is currently wanted for crimes she didnt commit (but blundered her way into), she was briefly incarcerated in Blackstone Prison until SHADOW tried to break her out. NB: Synth is going to be unconscious for this thread so its not an "insert PC" type thread. That said, it is a useful story to get her back to FC (she was last seen heading to Aleska after breaking out of prison)

Captain Cosmos In Venetian Blind It was the height of Summer, and Buddy Brand had managed to crowbar out a few days of leave from the boss. As far as his boss was concerned, it should have been a few minutes. Or less. The world of media was too fast, too competitive, to allow for any slippage like a vacation. Fortunately, there will still some legal brakes on such views, like contracts. Buddy Brand was caught up in the world of media. He was good, but not great. Valued, but not invaluable. He made no mistake of his place on the greasy pole – he was in no danger of being fired, but equally, nobody would hesitate if a chop needed to happen. He could not leverage his mid level fame. And it was busy, always busy. Plus, Buddy Brand had another job, on the side; he was also the amazing multi-dimensional superhero, Captain Cosmos! Juggling these two jobs would have tested the endurance of any normal man or woman. Fortunately, Buddy could draw on the power of infinite alternative versions of himself to keep going. He did not tire, or need food or water. The heat of the city and television lights did not phase him. Technically, he did not even need sleep. But “Need” was a funny word. What did anyone need. Oxygen, first and foremost. Then heat. Water, Food. These four things was all a human technically needed, but few humans would be content with this. People professed to need love, respect, a car, a house, a gold plated swimming pool studded with diamonds as big as your fist. Buddy could hardly begrudge the use of the word, but it was a matter of perspective. Did Buddy need sleep. Not technically. He would surely survive without it. But without it, he would go insane. He needed to dream. But even this was not quite enough. The last few weeks had been a blur of media frenzy, super heroic shenanigans, and even some hot conversations with friends. Buddy needed to get away. He needed to decompress. Needed to shut off the data streams into his skull. He needed to go blind. Irritable, snappy, pressured. He decided to go to extremes. He was going to Venus. No, this was not a lurid euphemism for some sordid love affair at a cheap motel. Buddy Brand was literally going to Venus. Orange cape trailing behind him, Captain Cosmos flew up from the city, the streets, the smells and noise fading rapidly. But space was big, like, really big. Even at his top speed of 250mph, it would take him a long time to leave the Earths gravitational field. The International Space station, at a fairly low orbit, was an hour away. And so Buddy altered his dimensions; entering a trans-dimensional state, bypassing the strands of Gravity, hitching a ride on them. As his dimensions changed, he suddenly shot up like a bolt of lightning in reverse. In under a minute, he was flying past the International Space Station. He gave it a cheery wave. Such transformation came at a cost to his sanity. Esoteric dimensional states needled at his brain. Suspicions and perceptual abnormalities started seeping in. For a brief moment, he thought he saw a clown wave back at him from the space station. He shook his head. The hallucination was just the stress of a transdimensional state. But as the Gravity of Earth faded, the stress faded. He recalled the famous equation F = G m1 m2 / r squared. He didn’t understand it, but he got the principle, gravity distance squared something something. Essentially, gravity faded fast as distance grew. The needles in his cortex started to fade. As gravity hit (essentially) zero, he could sustain odd dimensional states much longer, almost indefinitely. In his transdimensional state, Buddy could bypass normal physics. Space could contract, elongate, or just be ignored. Free from the chains of gravity, he slid past threedimensional state, and drove himself to Venus, faster than light. A literal warp drive. Einstenian physics be damned. Venus was blue. As he slowed down, his velocity becoming sub-lightspeed, Buddy took a moment to behold the wonder. And relish in a singular thought… Nobody would find him here! The edges of the planet were hazy, thanks to the thick atmosphere. He could feel the heat now, the trace atmosphere as he descended. Some scientists said that the ammonia detected at this level might indicate some sort of protezean life, but Buddy was no astrobiologist. He hadn’t packed a spectrometer or Geiger counter. He wasn’t here for a science experiment. He was here to avoid data, not accumulate it. The atmosphere was becoming thicker, the winds picking up. Buddy could feel the pressure on his skin; far, far higher than an earth atmosphere. He flew through thick clouds of sulfuric acid, prickling on his skin. His costume was fortunately made of morphic molecules and would not dissolve. Here, nobody would perceive his butt naked body, but he did have to return to Earth some time soon, and doing so naked was not something he wanted to worry about. The heat started building, faster now. A hundred, two hundred degrees centigrade. Even Buddy was feeling the heat. He paused. Venus was a hellscape; a beautiful hellscape. He dared not breathe in the gas; of course, he didn’t need oxygen. Back on earth, however, he continued to exhaled and inhale reflexively – a fortunate reflex, as it maintained his cover, but with the furious heat and acid of Venus, Buddy had unconsciously held his breath. Gazing down below, he could see the hellscape of Venus in the distance. Rivers of lava flowing from multiple Volcanoes, like a network of lakes and rivers. Nobody would bother him here! Lava. Acid. Heat. Atmospheric pressures nearly a hundred time that of Earth. And yet, for all that hellish pressure, it was less hellish, less pressured than the Briefing room at the TV station. Here, in hell, Buddy could relax. Drifting in the sulfuric acid clouds, soaking up the blazing sun and burning winds, Buddy floated, closed his eyes. And relaxed, certain that his sleep would not be disturbed. Now this, he thought, was a vacation.

GM "Oh ho ho ho ho!" laughed the big brother. Now that he was getting used to the vibrating voice, Dwayne could tell that the origin was roving. The big brother was swimming around the metal beams and structures of the fire station, and the voice was coming from one place, then another. But isolating its precise location was another matter. And like his little brother, big brother could flow into anything metal. "I am not going to apologise to HIM. He is going to apologise to me for being so IMMATURE. Like a BABY!" "I'm not a baby!" yelled Mr Metal, stomping his feet. "YES YOU ARE! BA-BY! BA-BY! BA-BY!" Mr Metal dropped to the floor, tears of mercury falling from his eyes, and curled up like a, well, yes, like a baby. "SEE! YOU ARE A CRY BABY AND I AM THE MATURE ONE! NOW...." He paused. "NOW YOU WILL SEE SOME PROPER, MATURE, FUN. I'M GOING TO MAKE A RIGHT OLD MESS OF THIS PLACE! HAR HAR HAR HAR!"

15!

Diamondlight In Summer Island Love August Zoss had plenty of money, and little time. Superhero, philanthropist, owner of Zoss enterprises. His life was busy, even with the Card Sharks covering for him. He forced himself to have three holidays a year. Vacations he desperately needed, desperately wanted; and yet, why was it so difficult? The answer, he had concluded, was the internet. How could one unplug oneself from the titanic flows of information? One would need a superhuman brain to process all the data; and whilst Zoss was smart by any human measure, his brain was not superhuman. And so, one starry night in his vacation home in the Bahama’s, he put his mobile phone to the floor, under a chair leg, and sat down on his chair very hard. He smiled at the satisfying crunch. He turned round, squinted, and with pinpoint precision, fired silver-blue laser beams from his eyes. Just a second, or less. Enough to fry the wifi modem. Unplugged. Relaxed. He poured himself a small brandy, in a sparkling crystal glass, and trod barefoot to the wooden veranda. It was near midnight, the heat of the day cooling. A sea breeze ruffled his half undone linen shirt. The view was magnificent; a sparkling sea, not still, but not unruly. Waves gently lapped against a fine sand beach. The star’s were out, shining in a dark and cloudless sky. No moon tonight. August gazed to the stars, his extraordinary eyes picking up the faint light with ease; each star twinkled. He smiled, took a sip of brandy, and heard the rustling behind him. August Zoss was no stranger to beautiful women, and the woman approaching him was, without doubt, beautiful – dark, rustic hair of mid length, olive skin, deep eyes and high cheekbones. A full smile, white teeth. But August did not care for beauty on its own – a dull, monotonous affair. What he care about was fascination. The woman behind him had carved large slabs of muscle on to every bone. A bodybuilder. August was fairly sure she was juicing with something; either that or she had some mutated genetics. That was his business, as far as he was concerned. The world was approaching a transhuman era, and everyone had the right to alter and modify the one thing they undeniably owned. The body they lived in. If she was juicing, she had done a remarkably good job of it. Her skin was unpuckered, not falling prey to any scar or pustule. Her face remained feminine, not yet showing the tell tale signs of masculinisation. August did not think about it too much; biological sciences was not his forte. But he could appreciate her artistry; she had turned herself into a work of art. A hard and beautiful sculpture of granite. She put her arms around him from behind, her chin on his shoulder. August smiled, feeling her power. Delightful; a power she had earned with blood sweat and tears (and possibly chemical ingenuity). He could of course blast her with a beam of pure energy, but that was ungentlemanly and unworthy of praise. His power – at least some of his power – was an accident. “Hear me sneaking up?” she asked. August smiled. “Saw you.” “Eyes on the back of your head?” August smiled. It was true, sort of. His entire body was sensitive to light. He could literally see behind him, but not with eyes. “In a manner of speaking.” “Like the view?” “More than like. Admire.” The woman gave a little laugh, a step back, and a twirl. She wore a loose fitting t shirt, some daisy duke jeans, both battered by age and sweat. But no loose clothing could disguise arms as thick as most mens legs. She had put countless hours into exercise. This, August knew. He had saw her working out at a beach gym. He was not the only admirer, perhaps he was not the only man (or woman) fascinated by her. And that was how he had started the conversation, a nuanced, subtle admission of fascination. Without intent, without need. He simply found her beautiful, fascinating. He would have happily settled for an hours conversation discussing her life and philosophy under a palm tree, sipping espresso and munching olives. That, he did. But an hour became two, three, and more. Dinner was served; fish, chilled white wine. August ate healthily, and kept himself in good shape (as befitted a superhero; one never knew when one might need more than superpowers), but she ate like a horse, and selectively-protein, protein, protein. Tuna steak, tuna steak, tuna steak. Two whole meals. No carbs. No alcohol. August could not even bring himself to do more than sip his white wine. It felt disrespectful, somehow. They had talked, and even laughed. August made no attempt to flirt, or seduce, but talking easily, taking interest, compliments warm but not hot – these all conspired to thread the bonds of intimacy between them. Before they knew it, they were in his Electric submersible-car, driving to his holiday villa. August brushed off her comments on his wealth without a word in response. Wealth was a tool, but it was not interesting. She was interesting. No drinks were drunk or offered at the villa. Alcohol was an insult to her; she reminded him, he said, of a Spartan. She smiled. Not so Spartan, she said. And then they were in each others arms, lips locked. The most precious moment of all, as far as August was concerned. What melding of bodies in the bedroom could possibly match that first intimacy? When the world faded, all was lost, when one drowned in honey. The bliss of that first kiss. For all pleasures that followed, and pleasurable they were, August always felt they could not compare to the first moment. Perhaps this was why he could never bring himself to a relationship. There were a thousand reasons, each oscillated around his skull. Was he afraid of commitment? Was he terrified of love? Pragmatic reasons – he was too busy. And a superhero had enemies, enemies who could target his loved ones. Maybe all these reasons were true. But there was also this – nothing could compete with the first moment. He put down his barely touched brandy. The taste was still on his lips, but there were sweeter things to taste. Perhaps this time, it would last. Perhaps not. But he could not control the future, or even himself. No, not control the future, but enjoy the present, the moment, the moments. And the best way to do that was to abandon control. Trying to control oneself could be the worst whip of all. He had two weeks of vacation in paradise, and he would savour every day. And he would not savour it alone.

Gamma Buzz "Aha!" said Gamma Buzz, huge red eyes widening even more. "You fool! You are the boss, aren't you? And with you long and winding, endless, meandering, torturous and elongated monologue, ripe with adverbs, you have inadvertandly told us of your secret plan that involves a key, and that you wish to find it whilst destroying us!" He gave a healthy laugh. "Such stupidity! You will never catch us using long winded explanations of our tactics, which in this case involves me jumping towards you and punching you in the face! hahahaha! STUPID!" With that, Gamma Buzz executed his mastermind plan. He jumped towards the woman, and started glowing with healthy non-lethal gamma radiation, his cockroach mouth wide with a cockroach grin. As he had explained, he pulled back one glowing cockroach fist and aimed it right at the womans face...

Gamma Buzz is going to go straight for the boss-lady! Bounding up to her as a move action Activating Gamma Aura (part of Gamma Arrray) as a free action Punch as a standard action 29! not quite a critical but pretty sure its a hit! I did use the wrong attack bonus (my fault, head was at the PL 9 version of next year) but its still a 27 which again should be a hit? So that would (presumably) be a Toughness 23 (damage) and Fortitude 15 (Nauseate) saves.

GM "Muahahaha!" roared the metal around him. "You fleshy fleshlings are so fleshy! I can see why my little brother likes playing here. But he is too IMMATURE to be playing here on his own. Not like me. I am the MATURE one. And that means I can do WHAT I WANT!" "Wait till mother hears about this!" cried Mr. Metal. "YOU SPOIL ALL THE FUN!" "GROW UP!" roared the metal, rumbling ominously. "YOU ARE TOO YOUNG TO UNDERSTAND, Because you are an IMMATURE CRY BABY! Going to CRY TO MOTHER!" Mr. Metal started weeping tears.

We can slip out of combat for now! Family dynamics takes precedent

Snakebite I'm guessing he doesnt not much about squat... thought Cassandra, reminding herself that just because one shouldnt underestimate anybody, one shouldn't overestimate them either. It was a fine tightrope, and not one she walked well. Perhaps it was the Crow Aristocracy, unconsciously giving her a snooty arrogance that she couldn't quite shake off. "Maybe I will need more than luck. But I'm going all the same!" she said, boots crunching on the snow. "And I'm going on my own if nobody else fancies the spirit of adventure!" All she needed was a direction. And a map. She had the map, but not the direction. She pulled out the GPS from her backpack. "The least you can do is given me the coordinates!"

Bloody Mess The Cards smothered Bloody Mess as he moved forward, but for every clump of card that stuck to him, one of his brick-like hands battered another one off. "What's this? Poker?" he roared, trying to swim through the cards. He could barely see, but he could work out where the irritants were coming from. "Ta hell with this!" he roared, driving his pumped up legs into action, and bound forward like a human cannon ball, his right hand drawn back, ready to clobber the magician (or whoever it was). He came to a skidding halt right by the Prestige, his jaw clamped together in a delightful fury, and preceded to... ..."Wait! Yer a dame!" He paused, eyebrows raised, hands dropped. "I ain't meant to clobber no dames!" He had been raised right - or so he thought - and had it drummed into him that ya didn't hit no dames. But what should he do? "Er.... you better stop what yer doing and err.... let yourself be arrested by da police, madam!" demanded the Mess, as sheepish as one could imagine, his hands raised up in profuse apology.

15 and 22 for Bloody Mess Meaning he takes the full whack of the snare effect but with a 22 on the actual snare effect managed to avoid it. For Mess' turn will jump to the Prestige and... ...pause! Realising the Prestige is female and as Bloody Mess don't hit dames, he isn't going to hit her (as per complication) - at least for now!

All corrected Thankyou!

GM "Uhhh.... My brother isn't so much fun. He's a bit of a..." "SILENCE!" rumbled the metal. Each metal structure of the fire station vibrated in union, creating a rather pleasant yet ominious voice. "MY LITTLE BROTHER IS A VERY NAUGHTY BOY!" "A complete a..." started Mr Metal. "SILENCE!" rumbled the metals of the station. "HE IS NOT MEANT TO BE SO NAUGHTY. THIS DIMENSION IS ONLY FOR GROWN UPS!" "But you aren't even a grown up!" complained Mr. Metal. "SILENCE! These fleshy fleshlings are only for grown ups! Not little boys! FLESHY FLESHLINGS... with their... FLESHY FLESH! MMMMMM!" Every steel and metal surface of the Fire Station errupted in spikes, and none so spiky as the particularly long spike that spiked the fleshy flesh of the fleshling known as Dwayne!

To kick off, Master Metal is going to poke you. With a big old metal spike! Or lots of spikes, to be precise. This is effectively a damage 10 area affect, so DC 20 Reflex and then DC 20/25 Toughness. Depending on your response you may wish to roll initiative.