Supercape

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

19 so bruised (and injured?) and dazed. And knockbacked, too. Feel free to pop out one of Baz's limbs (Pop! Complication) from the KB, if it suits.

GM It definately did not feel like a good kind of magic. In ages past - long, long ages, longer than any human civilisation - something was born here. Some festering spirit that fed on resentment, frustration. Not the actual act of violence, no. Something much more insidious, something born from surpressed rage. And it had reawakened. Why? Perhaps it was the city, full of crushed hope and simmering resentment for the man who had it easier, for the man who had it all. The man with the yacht, the penthouse, the smart suit or designer dress. Perhaps it was something else. Forming from the shadows, a deeper shadow formed in the trees above Jack. A shadow licked by flame, with two orange eyes and an orange maw, grinning. "Quite the feast!" said the shadow, grinning wider.

More than sufficient!

GM "Wow!" said the Metal Man. "You look just like me! Or...wait..." He leaned forward, studying Dwayne with one suspicious eye. "Are you my brother? Playing tricks on me? Go on, its you, isn't it..." He poked Dwayne with a metal finger. "You are real. Who are? No, who are you really? Nobody is allowed to leave metaloworld. Too much disruption, they say. Pffft. They just want to stop us having fun. That's the real reason. So who are you? Is that you, brother?"

Snakebite "Claws?" said Cassie, aloud, feeling the edge of the journal and giving it a sniff. The Journal, even incomplete, was interesting. And worrying. Signs of intelligence? Ancient civilisation? This could be Lemurian. Her blood ran, appropriately, cold. She had Lemurian power, and it was an icy power she always half feared. The Lemurian civilisation was cruel, spiteful, and powerful. Most thought they were consigned to myth, or history, but Cassandra Crow was not so sure. Outposts might still remain, and the World could well do without a resurgance of Lemurian sorcery. She slammed the book shut and put it in her backpack. It was time to find Baiyun. But where? The old lady selling her rope had said the base camp. It was time to head there, even if it was night. Lemurian blood was good for something at least. She could see in the dark.

Gamma Buzz "Lawre--- I mean, TImeout!" called Gamma Buzz, alarmed. "I got ya, buddy!" He jumped into the air, somersaulted twice, and landed in an elegant cockroach-pose right by the feet of the four armed insect creature, his armour plates glowing with green gamma energy. "I'm the number one cockroach round here, sucker!" he said. "Get ready to meet the might of the merely magnificent Gamma Buzz!" With that, he backflipped, and in doing so stuck out his feet, intent on catching the creature with both feet!

Gamma Buzz is going to leap (move action) to his old Buddy Timeout. Free action to activate Nauseate Aura Standard Action to punch-a-doodle-do Procyus (he isn't being sensible...) 26 - not quite a critical, but should hit! DC 23 Tough and DC 15 Nauseate effects.

GM The elevator slowed and stopped at the very depths of the outstation. Almost silently, the doors opened to reveal a dimly lit laboratory. Soft lights on the banks of computers and other scientific questions. Glass cyliners, full of blue liquid, held bodies inside. Transluscent and hairless skin that Predator recognised well. A dozen bodies, lined up in seperate containers. Each body had a variety of electrodes and sensors attached to the white flesh, linked to the top of the cylinder. Life signs - present, but faint. On a solitary chair, surrounded by computers and microwave meals, was a lone woman. Small, robust, wearing a scientists coat. Maybe forty years old - a few lines, but not wrinkled. A brow that looked like a potent mix of intelligent and driven. "Not a step closer!" she barked at Predator.

Echohead "Dang," said Echohead, muttering about the ill fate. "Well, driving an ambulance can't be too hard, can it? I mean, you turn the wheel and do stuff. Probably. That's all there is, right?" Echohead glanced at the Ambulance. "It looks solid enough. I guess Ambulances have to be pretty solid? They need to work in disaster zones, right?" He swallowed. Of course, he could drive. He could drive his van through the streets of Freedom City to pick good and deliver flowers. But he didn't like driving, and he never had to drive through a zombie horde. Or drive an ambulance." "I'll do my best, anyway. Lets go!"