Supercape

Starshot Starshot kept quiet. Being uncomfortable was doubly uncomfortable when somebody called you out for it. He couldn't help but give thanks for the Beer though. And perhaps, against wisdom, he drank too quickly. "I appreciate the diplomacy" he said, slowly and, appropriately enough, diplomatically. "I have no discomfort around aliens. I have been around enough" he explained. "The world of politics and whispers. This makes me uncomfortable. I can't trust anyone who makes it their job to make them trust me..." he explained, apologetically. "In other words, I trust actions and choices, not words and promises. I do not take offence at the latter, but they are empty as space" He put down his beer and put his hands together, giving a smile. "If you really want trust, can you help us? Show us to the dealers?"

GM "A Superhero...?" came the reply. Hyperactive could almost hear the pause. The sound of mental cogs whirring. "Well that is...interesting. Not expected, but not unexpected either" she said, rolling the idea around her mouth and down the speaker. Another pause. Zyte gave Hyperactive the thumbs up, and a wink, recording everything. He was good at that. "Very well then, meet me on set. With the package" she said, before hanging up abruptly. Zyte gave a frown. "Cautious one, isn't she. But you don't get to her position by being a fool" he conceded. "I don't know what that package is...but I know what the set is. She is trying to promote her new film empire. Superworld!, an adventure film series about superheroes. Capes, masks, laser beam eyes. You know the drill...." he said. "What can I say? It's pop culture!"

Sorry for delay! (I was pretty ill and still washed out) Sense Motive vs Hyperactive: 1d20+11 19

GM "You pay for that..." spat Vassily, on his backside, the gun lolling to one side. When he spat, he did it with blood and a solitary cracked tooth that rattled on the not so clean Hospital floor. It was specked with blood. "You...you...Get him!" ordered Blowfish, with at least half a tactical head on his shoulders. Given the intelligence of his goons, he had little competition. Two of the dutiful thugs got up and rushed towards John, getting to a few feet of him and pausing, blocking his way... Blocking his way back down the corridor, where Blowfish and his other four men had reached Jane's room, with her nurse inside. Screams were coming from the nurse, and Jane was trying, weakly, to get out of bed and pull her drip out. "Honey...hwfff....I'm hoo-oome!" sang Blowfish, delighted at the opportunity to scare Jane.

So Vassily I am giving a 6 initiative just for ease, but he is dazed this round anyway. For a move action, all of Blowfish and party will stand up. They will take a standard action to move according to IC post. Round 3: 22 - John, 3 HP, Unharmed 10 - Bystanders 6 - MGV (Machine Gun Vassily) Bruised x2, Staggered 6 - Blowfish, Bruised 6 - Thugs

So that will hit; and a DC 23 Toughness Save for the bruised Vassily: Toughness vs John Smith Charge: 1d20+5 18 is not so bad, although I forgot to give the bruise penalty. Vassily is dazed and bruised and flat on his ass from knockback.

GM John could feel the THUD! of fist against some kind of bullet proof vest. Blowfish was not stupid. The impact still forced the breath from him, and he stumbled back, his arms reaching out for balance and hence, like the Keystone Cops, taking his goons with him, with all of them falling over in a tangle of arms, legs, and guns. The front two men had not been caught by the windmilling arms, and, dim of brain and burly of limb, they followed their orders. They both tried to charge past, to get to Jane still lying in the hospital bed. But the corridor was thin, and so where their chances when weighted against the inhuman strength of the Tattered Man. Both men duly ended up flat on their backside... Behind him, John heard footsteps, and a grunt. A Russian grunt. Machine Gun Vassily was there, bruised, battered, even bleeding. Bandages over his head and one arm. One eye was so swollen and black he surely could not see out of it. But the grim determination was there. Plus, he was now holding a massive mini-gun that most men would struggle to lift...

Right sorry for delay (due to being v ill!) So playing a bit hard and loose with knockback; Blowfish is knocked back and knocks over four of his goons like skittles. The last two standing up goons will try to overrun, therefore making trips attacks (playing a little loose with the rules): Trip attacks on JS: 2#1d20+2 18 12, so thats one hit. the opposed trip roll is Opposed trip: 1d20+2 3: There is no way JS can fail that opposed roll so he can trip his opponent automatically. To keep things simple, I am saying that all the thugs, plus Blowfish, are now prone. Round 2 22 - John, 4 HP, Unharmed 10 - Bystanders 6 - Blowfish, Bruised, Prone 6 - Thugs, Prone Could you throw me a DC 15 Notice roll

Synth / Nyberg "Thank you Sarah" said Nyberg, fighting the urge to tip a hat he was not wearing. Such was the power of memories. Really, it wasn't a healthy way to operate, or live. It was a half - life, an echo. It was nauseating; a creeping existential crisis that was at least better than the trauma underneath. "I think that is a good idea" and it was. "And once again, I am sorry..." He turned, ignoring the semi conscious wrench in his synthetic heart. Lesson learned...people are not pawns... Now, back to the bar. With not a penny to his pocket. It would have to be a brisk walk in a dark, dank night. Perhaps Hull and left his mark there, either with the people in it, or some physical evidence....like that strange drink?

Starshot Starshot quite liked the ambience, but the "bugs" were disconcerting. They felt...engineered... A sympathetic tingle went up his spine. He became somehow aware of the redundant and not so redundant cybernetics buried in his flesh. It made him want a drink. A beer. "And selling them is a bad idea" he added, grim and deep. He leaned forward to peer at the cases. "All teeth and claw and ferocity. Even like this. The adults are a living weapon" he explained. "And two of them smells like breeding opportunities..." He leaned back, folding his arms somewhat tensely. "This isn't my jungle, but it looks like it is yours" he added, half-forcing a smile. "If you fancy doing some hunting?"

Id go for favours, but if a Survival roll is called for: Survival Roll: 1d20+8 12 a terrible roll ye shall get!

Flintlock "Ah...a battleship! or something...something yankee. Big guns. Jennie! We need an upgrade!" said Flintlock, pointing at the short blonde zombie who manned the guns. "Upgrade your fat ass! I hate the lot of you!" screamed said Zombie in a Nordic accent, who went by the name of Sweet Jennie. She stormed down to the cannons to sulk, and polish. And try to slap Mr. Beaky, the elusive Parrot of the Black Flag. "What I am trying to say is the Black Flag may be the fastest thing on this fair Eath's Seas. But maybe not the biggest guns...." she mumbled. In her day, the Black Flag was one of the finest vessels on the sea, and she would have been confident it could outsail and outfight anything. But that day was three hundred years ago. She stumbled to the wheel. "Let the eyes in the skies show the way. And tell me where to set course!"

By a little role playing! (And pain). Editted IC

GM "Holding..." said a polite receptionist. "...." There was a pause. "...yes. This is Violet Bloom, Bloom Enterprises" said a voice. It had a kind of cautious steel. An older woman, by guess. Well practised in threats, guile, and bluff. Like a poker player who let nothing out and whose eyes, or in this case ears, absorbed everything in endless calculations. "What do you wish to tell me?" came the practised question. Nothing incriminating, nothing let out. An experienced, astute, and smart lady.

Flintlock "That would be Spike! Spike the Monkey!" answered Flintlock merrily. The smallest member of the Skeleton Crew stepped up and bowed deeply. "My eyes be sharp as an eagles!" he proudly declared. Flintlock was a bit more sceptical. Or realistic. "Well, not that sharp. Sharper than a blind bat, maybe. But! On the positive side, being of undead persuasioning, me crew can see in the dark as well as a bat!" she explained. "Which comes in handy for sneaking up on icebergs and the like. You have got to watch those sneaky icebergs!" Handsome Jack huffed and puffed, muttering under his breath. "I warned Eddie, I warned him. Das Iceberg! I said. Das Iceberg!" "In any case, Icebergs aside, I doubt Spikes eyes are much better than your beautiful blue..I mean brown eyes!" she said, giving Amir a wink.

I'm taking a bet that these guys are minions, so taking 10 for an attack, shiting -3 att / +3 damage, for a 19 roll (Which I bet hits?) and punching one for a damage 6 (Dc 21) attack. If it hits, Ill go for KO and attack the other, although this time I dont want anything more than staggered and dazed (for questioning!)

The Red Rat "It hurts..." She sprung up, like a cobra struck be lightning. "Right..." She pulled her fist back "...here!" And, kicked him hard. "You boys are biting more than you can chew" she added. "I want answers, and I am sure you want to give them to me. Well, I am sure you will want to give them to me..." she corrected herself. The first man slumped, but before he hit the floor she had grabbed the second and put him in a painful arm lock. "You can start by telling me where I am, and who locked me up!"

Usually, just because its easier, we go with the most up to date sheet and dont fret about it

GM Aside from a few clips of ammo, some money, some suspicious smokes, some mobile phones, and various trinkets, there was not much to be found. Except this: Violet Bloom: Agent A stylish contact card that a couple of the Smoking Wheels' had on them. "Might have fast reflexes, but slow up top..." said Zane! on the discovery. "I know her. Ice queen Hollywood boss" said Zyte, almost spitting. "Produces a lot of action films. Wants to move into superhero adventures. She has tried to woo several superheroes over the years. All rather distasteful, if you ask me" he muttered. "But she has a lot of power and influence. I'd swallow the bad taste if I could get to work with her" he added, without shame. "She has her fingers in a hundred pies. Was she employing the Smoking Wheels? I wonder what for..." he wondered.

GM Zyte didn't stop filming, not for a second, and not now. Zane! answered the first questions. "The Smoking wheels, they had a reputation for...well....thuggery. A bunch of alpha males that drank too much, and smoked too much other stuff. I'm not talking cigarettes. Plenty of complaints from women on the set too, and a couple of other men. Plenty bad about them, but they didn't discriminate on sexual orientation" he said, uncharacteristically thoughtful. "Eventually, they became a liability. Good guys, I mean, they were a good stunt crew. But nobody would have them on set. Can't say I blame them either...." Zyte interrupted, having contemplated the whole mess. "How do we know they were after the Parrot? and even if they were...how do we know they were out to kill him? Kidnap? Extort? Frighten?" he mused.

Flintlock Through the endless ether Flintlock swam. The world seemed faint and dream like to her astral body. Firstly, and swamp harbour base why is this still open? and so her projection floated into it. Rusty musket barrels, rusty blades. The trappings of pirates as sure as rum was rum. She should know. She was one. And then, in multiple planes of existence and spirit, and glowing sigil on a ruin. Somehow, it imprinted a person onto her astral mind. Black hair, black eyes...Jacquotte Delahaye! Ah! There was a name from centuries yonder she would not forget. Nice lass... She snapped back to her body, her eyes wide open. "Pirates! I mean...more Pirates!" she gasped. "Well, I didn't see any pirates, but I felt a presence. Jacquotte Delahaye, pirate queen! Well, second pirate queen after me, is!" she added, hastily, knocking her eyes back into focus. "I don't know if she is alive, or dead, or even there any more. But I think she is back!"

Ok so that is just enough Toughness Save vs TTM: 1d20+2 12 is his roll, but I forgot to add his undercover shirt to make it 14, which is a fail by 9. Bruised and dazed.

GM One thug lifted of his quad bike, quite shocked. With a spin of air, and a spin of body, he slammed straight into the thug next to him, the both of them collapsing like domino's, groaning on the ground. "The amazing Hyperactive strikes again!" yelled Zyte, filming the whole thing. The threat was over, and Hyperactive was left with the conscious, or semi-conscious bodies of the four men, four quad bikes, and some scared witless nurses. One whom had already handed their notice in, saying they were moving to Alaska. Zyte was staying right where he was. His hand didn't leave the camera. Zane! approached the four men and squatted on his haunches, examining them. "Hey! I know these guys! They are a stunt crew, called the Smoking Wheels! Got a bit of a bad reputation. Blacklisted, from what I hear..."

Round 1 22 - John, 4 HP, Unharmed 10 - Bystanders 6 - Blowfish, Unharmed 6 - Thugs And we are up. At the moment, JOhn has a nurse by his side, Jane in a bed behind him in a single room, and Blowfish et al are about 25' away.

GM "Oh I'm going to hwwwfff...leave, am I?" snarled Blowfish. "Look at him, boys, he's telling me to leave..." Instead, he pulled out a pistol. It wasn't big, it wasn't flashy. It was just functional. It fired bullets. And it was a signal for the others to pull out their guns, too. "Now if the rumours are true, you are some hard nosed tough guy. Tough enough to beat down my two toughest guys. And perhaps tough enough to beat all of us down. But the other thing is, we are in a hospital. And whilst you got your code of honour, I got my code of survival" he smiled. It wasn't exactly funny. "And I'm reckoning, from what Vassily said, you got a soft spot in your heart for a certain woman. Well...I do like leverage over someone..." "Go get her, boys!"