Supercape

GM "Ash? You related?" said Morgan, looking disconcerted. "Ah...well, that changes things..." He put down his cleaver. But not too far from his hand, and tried a warmer smile. Vera scowled and scuttled out, looking frightened. This was out of her depth. "As for positions" continued Morgan, now the shop was empty of eavesdroppers "it depends where your talents lay. Ash, now, she is something special. Never seen a woman burn like that before. And a taste for blood. I got certain supplies. But I need certain things done..." he said, a hint of caution. "You a sorcerer?"

Rev "Hey, we aren't selling anything, ma'am" explained Rev. She still had a Cherrybomb! in her mouth which was being sucked dry of all its toxic goodness. "We are looking for your....um...ah....son" she guessed. Ryan" she added, hoping this was a reasonable and accurate guess. Darn it! She wasn't a police officer. How did you do these things?. "We think he might be in trouble. Getting bullied. We would like to help!" she grinned, lollipop still in her mouth. That might do it! Nobody likes being bullied, or their loved ones getting bullied! We just have to hope there is a crack of suspicion!

Flux "The Communion Incursion? What the blazes was that?" asked Quill. It didn't sound good, that was for sure. The Commander was being entirely reasonably, given the situation. Russel's Teapot, and all that. "I am trying to find Chief Scientist Solak. Incidentally, whilst I appreciate your good faith, I am fairly certain Solak can put your mind at ease and confirm my identity" he explained. "For me, I would like to ask him about what happened by the asteroid field and if he has any explanation for the quantum dark zone. Fascinating...." He tapped his chin in thought. "Oh! And I need to put his mind at ease, too. From the sounds of it, he was most worried about me. And thank him! He made every effort to save me..."

Rev Fleshing out the Revster. Additional Complication Jet Crash: Normally, Rev flies gracefully. However, if she is flying with limbs occupied (such as holding things, or when her limbs are detached) she gets clumsy and progressively likely to crash and burn. As a rough guide, if she is "down" one limb, she will often fail tight turns but is generally functional. If she is down "two limbs" she is only able to reliably to simple things like long turns or landing. If she has only one limb "up", she can't even fly in a straight line or land without great peril. 8 PP to spend Saving Throws (1) 1 PP: Add +1 To Reflex to make +12 (+3 Dex, +9) Skills (1) 1 PP: Add 4 Ranks of Drive for 12 (+15) Skill Mastery Noted two errors: Bluff should be 4 (+7) and Intimidate should be 4 (+7) Feats: (4) 1 PP: Add another Rank of Improved Initiative 1 PP: Add Improved Sunder 1 PP: Add Second Chance (Toughness save vs Vehicular Crashes) 1 PP: Add Set Up NB: This makes Initiative +11 Powers: (2) 2 PP: Add Leaping 2 (x5 Distance, Running 100', Standing 50', High 25') [2 PP] "Jump Jets" [Cybernetic, Jet] Upgraded -the Absurdist

Tagged

Rev "Whoa! A time thing!" "It may be inevitable. But I'll but my boot up your backside even if it is!" challenged Rev. She looked down at her bare feet. She had kicked her trainers off back at the house in preparation for lift off. But then the time thing had appeared in a thingy type of way. "Well, my foot, anyway..." she added, losing (she felt) some impetus in the flow of words. "Anyway, we have been charged with the duty of dutifully protecting our charge!" she said. "Namely, Master Lawrence Thingy" she explained, forgetting his surname but making sure she pointed a finger with full accusation. "And if we need to kick your backsides to protect him, it will be our pleasure to do so!"

GM "More building! Oh joyous joy! For there is no better thing in life than to build. Building is life! And life is building!" said Block Head. He was loathe to leave his current occupation, but the prospect of grander designs could not be resisted. And so...back at Vision Inc "See, I told you, man! Totally awesome and stra-ange!" declared Ratchet, waving his fingers at the ether. "I mean, its like a golem, or something, right? A goddamn artificial life form!" "This is a very well constructed building" said Block Head, somewhat upset. "I cannot see any clear area's that need construction work, or any clear avenue to expand?" he asked. His fingers were getting twitchy, and his five faces peered around the walls looking for cracks. Or possibly to make cracks just so the cracks could be repaired.

GM "Good news! What could it be? A skyscraper to build? A pyramid? What delights of building lay in store for us happy builders?" said Block Head, most keenly. He did not pause from his work of shifting building materials and stacking them. Despite his simplicity of personality, he was actually very good. Fast, tireless, and accurate in his construction. He could do the work of ten men in half the time, and double the quality. "To build is to exist. To exist is to build!" he explained cheerfully as he carried on working without pause. This, he could do with ease. He did, literally, have eyes on the back of his head.

Rev The glare did not look good at all. Rev felt all at sea. Who knew what the hell was happening here? Well, it wasn't her. She called up Zhu. "Whats the score, brains? I got an angry care here with an angry puncture and they are looking at me like they want to tear my head off. Just to be clear, I can detach my arms and legs. My head coming off has an unfortunate side effect called death" she whispered, getting a bit franctic with nerves. She wasn't a spy. Yet. "Any word from our mysterious voice? Damn it, it feels like Mission Impossible..."

Let me know when you want a scence cut to Dr Tonics lair (which would involve Vermin's guidance!)

Rev "Cherrybombs! Awesome! Full of naturally made artificial sweetners!" grinned Rev greedily, sticking two in her mouth. Her gelskin was pretty burnt, and she had no trainers left anyway (on account of them being ash). "Ok my ursine friend, time to reach for the stars!" she said to Jack, grabbing him. "Brace yourself, I'm going to be pulling some serious G's..." With that said, the Jets on her feat flared mightily, rumbling and then exploding. And then, airborne! racing through the sky of Freedom City and an insane speed. They would have to slow down to find the actual house, of course, but this would get them there in super duper speed!

GM Mr. Brick paused, chewing his lip. "You...ah...well...given the rights and fair use of ceramics in experimental construction bill...err...wait...no, that's not right. What was it now, the affordable development national property act of wait...ummm...." He frowned a moment, then exploded. "Goddamnit you buncha morons! Someone get me my goddamn lawyer!!!!" he screamed. He kicked a minion, then a bunch of concrete slabs. He tried to ignored the bone crunching pain, but he looked visibly pale and clammy. And everyone could hear the snapping toes. "Ok take the idiot for now. If you can. He won't leave that building anyway..." he muttered, then limped back to the administrative prefab building on the site, his cronies in tow.

Civics: 1d20+7 15

GM "I hope not! Unless...can it be?" muttered Block Head. "Sometimes one must destroy a building to build a greater one. It happens! Yes, maybe that is his glorious plan! Why I can scarcely conceive what happy happy building might supplant this one! Oh great joy joy joy!" Mr Brick was a fat man in a cheap suit. Bald as you like, sweating, and red faced. Maybe sun burn, maybe fury. He was shortish, but one would imagine he had a certain strength to his frame. He was in his forties, maybe more, and looked like he had done some time as a labourer on construction sites as a young man. "Yes, I do! I am a totally almost legitimate businessman, and this is private property! More so, you have trespassed on a dangerously unstable building and I can't be held responsible for an accident" he festered. "Why, at any moment know the building could collapse on you. Or a hammer could fall on both your kneecaps. Or maybe a chainsaw might slide through your neck. Or a stick of dynamite might get accidentally rammed up your backsi...wait...you are Mannequin, right? You don't even have a backside..." he complained, vexed that his flow of insults floundered. "Anyway, you best get off this site now. If I see you again, I'm calling the police. And other stuff might happen too...!"

Resist Intimidate: 1d20+10 29!

GM "Why, what a most strange question!" replied Block Head, quite shocked. "Of course I am alive! I move. I act. I choose. I might build this, or I might build that. I might build it this way, or I might build it that way. This is free will! I have total free will to do what Mr. Brick says. After all..." he continued, dramatically, pointing his finger to the ceiling as a point of oratory. "He is...the developer! it is by his glorious happy will and hand that buildings get built at all!" he finished, quite convinced about the matter, and most happy about it, for it would mean building. "Come out or I'll bomb you out!" screamed Mr. Brick through his megaphone. "Bomb? Bomb? Surely Mr. Brick would never do such a thing! He is the developer!" muttered Block Head, a little worried.

Starshot This is a special report by Vox Saga, on the strange world of the space safari! For those that do no know, and surely they are few, Vox Saga is the galaxies finest investigative reporter. Astute, incisive, and fearless, Vox peels back the veneer on society, and gazes at its underbelly. And check out her tail! Hubba Hubba! The galactic safari is an old institution perpetuated by the ultra-rich of the Lor republic, and indeed further afield. If you have the money, then the thrill of exploring the far reaches of the galaxy, to see strange and wonderful life forms, to explore strange new worlds, all of this is intoxicating and exhilarating. And sometimes dangerous. The Lor republic do of course have rules and guidelines about protecting biospheres, and even more importantly non space-faring cultures of whatever technological level. There are many strict rules about the transportation of alien species, requiring medical and biological clearance to avoid deadly contamination. But space is vast, and policing all of these rules and regulations is effectively impossible. We are reliant on the goodwill and ethical principles of those that run these adventures. And one man has come to epitomise the most bold and dangerous side of the space Safari. The terran known as Starshot. The story of Starshot starts with the well known criminal Zaul Zeno, who is missing after decacycles of life crimes. Starshot was one of his slaves, one of his experiments, but since Zeno disappeared, Starshot has effectively rid himself of his previous life and re-forged himself. He has been running a successful extreme safari business for cycles. His expeditions are costly, and dangerous. An escape for the thrill seeking ultra-rich. Remarkably, despite facing such terrible beasts as the Ootoomoo Flying Wet Slug, the Vyzur Death Viper, and the Lopsided Foul Breathed Gubbin of Metolium 6 (about which the less said the better) there have been no fatalities. Some scars, of course. That just adds to the mystique. I understand Count Orto VanLipsink has resolutely refused to get his third arm replaced with a cybernetic model or have biomolecular regeneration. He insists he is extremely proud of having it chewed off by the Flying Wet Slug, and to have it replaced would be a disservice to the creature. Having met the Count personally I can attest to his determination. It is, I admit, quite the conversation piece. The Count has the Flying Wet Slug that chewed off his arm encased in preservium trans-plastic in his hall. Macabre, perhaps, but also poetic. Starshot is the extreme. Many guests have come back thrilled. Many terrified. That is, I suppose, the appeal, to reach the most dangerous and unknown corners of space and come back with a story, or a trophy. But what about these trophies? Getting dangerous and alien species through Lor Space is at best, legally grey. Starshot has done some valuable work for the scientific community in capturing non sentient species that could hold promise for biomedical science, and he is, by and large, a valued asset in the xenobiological scientific community. But some of the ultra-rich would ove a novel alien pet, either for their lap or for their private cage. This is a debatable area. Even if it can be clearly established that alien species transportation is biologically safe, is it ethical? It is here that matters become murky and dark. Tales of bribery and corruption amongst the wealthy and powerful. Officials taking backhanders, scientists waiving through dangerous creatures. One can reasonably ask, how possible is it to police the galaxy against such smuggling. In the core Lor republic, perhaps. But on the outer reaches? On the pleasure palaces built on spectacular barren moons? Can we really stop the illegal transportation of alien species? I have interviewed many veterans of safari’s, both those who run them and have partaken. I have spoken to law officials, politicians, starport administrators, scientists and businessmen. Nearly all agree, the laws are fine in principle, but unenforceable in execution. We are relying on the reputation and conduct of the men and women of the Safari. As for Starshot, I cannot find any evidence of misdoing. Perhaps his former life has driven him from any such cruelty or callousness – for Zaul Zeno was surely the epitome of the cold and brutal side of the Space Safari. Indeed, I have found several examples of exemplary action. There is, for instance, the example of Liir Spoon, the heir to the Spoon business. I am sure we are all aware how rich that dynasty is. Liir was determined to get a pet, a simian species from Epsilon Gamma 493, a notorious biodiverse jungle planet. Having procured a specimen, an Ooga, it soon became apparent that the creature was sentient. Liir, reprehensibly, wished to capture the creature anyway, to serve as a butler or pet, or some mangled blend of the two. Starshot had nothing to do with this. He dropped off her off at the nearest mining colony without a word. Liir is still threatening legal action, but by every account Starshot was quite correct in his attitude. Maybe he was not legally or politically astute, for he has made a powerful enemy by not only frustrating Spoons’ mission, but by forcing her to suffer the ignobility of a roughneck mining station in the outer domains. She has not forgotten, nor forgiven. We shall see what comes of that clash of wills. But within the broad safari community, such action was applauded. It gave their business a good name, and Starshot is held up as not just the boldest explorer of distant jungle moons, but as a man to imitate in ethics. He will not only refuse to transport sentient beings, but has defended primitive cultures from exploitation. He has stopped the transportation of non-sentient beings when he has even a suspicion of dangerous use. Bioweaponry is a big business, and introducing dangerous fast breeding predators into an eco system could potentially wreak havoc on a world. Or several. Sometimes, the stories suggest a stony resolve that is excessive both in the frequency and nature of his application. He is not, it seems, a man prone to the fiery explosive fits of rage that one can see in men and women of war and action. Those who know the man testify to a cold, steely, and even brutal resolve when he encounters things against his code. And a code he most surely has, because for all his gravel and grit, he would not harm anybody on his ship, no matter how vile. Even Liir Spoon was dropped off safely, even if she vexes and complains to this day about the filth and squalor she was subjected to. He is not a man of explosive violence, but the icy directed violence that comes from brute determination. He kills rarely, and only when he must. But he has placed his cybernetic fist or hard boot on many face and many chest. He does not shirk from violence, but I would not judge him a violent man from my investigation. He is a man of course who loves the open worlds he explores, who loves the thrill of the hunt and the blood rush of excitement. But there is a certain honour in this for him. A ritual, perhaps. He appears to consider hunting a natural or primitive endeavour, and an honourable one. But this does not apply to the flow and ebb of civilisations or sentients. Even the most cruel of criminals he would refrain from the death blow. In these core complex, possibly nauseating or confusing situations, violence is a tool and nothing more. And so there we have it. An exciting, bold and dangerous business full of legal and ethical complexities. And at its head, a man of strange and turbulent past, a man both complex and simple, full of blood and bound by a code of his own determination. Starshot, man of the galaxy. I must get my tail signed by him!

Rev "Holy Hole!" gasped Rev. "That looks like a time thingy thing!" she explained to Zhu, full of confidence in her scientific acumen. "And wherever it leads, its better than where we go if we don't rescue Lawrence. Argh....angry parents....guilt....shame...." she shuddered. "So let's go!" she yelled, full of fear and bravery and other stuff. With a little jump, she dashed through the hole ready for... ...well she didn't know what for. But it was going to something, and something big.

Rev "What? They disappeared? Oh no..." gasped Rev. "I told him to go hide....stupid!" she slapped her forehead. "They must be tracking him...." With her ongoing turn of speed, she dashed up to the main home where she had left Lawrence. "Lawrence, Lawrence, where are you? They can track you...come here...." she screamed at the top of her lung. She drew back her right fist. A little pilot light came on in the palm, burning through the gelskin in a second. If the hunters appeared, she would light up the place. Not burn it. Although at this stage, she was pretty sure burning down the house would be acceptable to the parents. Better than losing their son. But she could shoot a flare - an incandescent burst of light to dazzle everyone. Except her, or course.

Free action: Words! Move action: Move Free action: Words! Standard Action: Ready action [Flare Burst] if she sees either of the "Parents".

GM "Killian, eh?" said Morgan with a cruel lustful smile. "I can give you whatever meat you need..." he slobbered, licking his lips. "We specialise in exotic meats. Fully licensed...." The cleaver came down once more. "Now you look like a strange lady. Someone with exotic tastes. I gotta ask. The skin. Red. And not in a Red Indian way" he said, frowning at her. "What does that taste like...I mean...ah....What would you like to taste?" he stumbled but recovered quickly, showing her his collection. "You related to Ash?" he asked, casual but clumsy in his probes.

GM "Ah, you are making sense! Yes!" agreed Block Head. "I build walls. I build ceilings! Oh! Happy building!" smiled the faces with content. "This is what it means to be alive? Yes! Happy happy happy! Build Build Build!" He stared at the light bulb. "Yes! And you build shiny! Happy shiny thing!" he said, solemn and proud. "I know things about building. Shiny things go in the ceiling. Make pretty light for rooms! Very good!" he said, enthralled by the new complexity. Block Head was interrupted by Mr. Brick shouting through a loud speaker. "You there! This is private property!" came the megaphone distorted voice. "Vacate the premises immediately. It is not safe. Things might happen. Like your knees getting shattered!" he ordered. "Yeah!" came the more muffled, but excited, voice of Hettie the Hammer. "Shut up! Let me do the talking!" came the megaphone voice back, admonishing Hettie. "That is Mr. Brick! The owner!" mumbled Block Head. "He develops buildings! Such a good man, to develop buildings!" he muttered, almost in awe.

GM The old woman turned around, her scowl consolidating. "You know who you are talking to you b...." "I'll deal with this, Vera" came a rumbling voice. Morgan himself. He was a big man, with plenty of fat. It had that solid feel, as if hard plentiful muscle lay underneath. He was bald and was wearing a blood stained apron. He had a middle eastern, maybe arabic look, Bald, with a dark stubble that was nearly a beard. He slammed down his meat cleaver into the chopping board, nearly splitting it in two. "I'm Morgan. Who the hell are you..." he said, grinning with a mixture of lust and paranoia.

Cool. Attractive will apply.

No crits for skill, but feel free to narrate the most splendid high tech light bulb you can conceive of!