Supercape

Toughness vs John Smith: 1d20+2 5 out like a light.

GM "You can indeed, my friend, you can indeed!" smiled Zyte, warmly. Or at least, apparently warmly. This was Hollywood, after all. Everyone was an actor. "Please, take a seat. Have some more donuts!" he clicked his fingers at Michelle, who groaned. "Get some more donuts delivered. Make sure it includes some Double creamy choc-nuts, my fave!" Turning back to Hyperactive, he set up his camera. "This ok? Just some basic docu-footage. Cant be shown without your permission etceteraaah etceteraah" he said, affecting a yawn at the law. "I was just going to start with a few basic questions. What was it like growing up with Superhero parents? Did you feel you had something to live up to? Are they proud? Disappointed? A bit of both?"

And John is up!

GM Georgy was a tough guy, without fear. But he did have nerves. He was not used to anyone punching Vassily. And Vassily slumped, head falling back out of the shattered windscreen, into the night air. It cleared his head, but he was shaken. He spat out a blooded tooth that clattered along the tarmac behind the speeding cars. "You pay big. Going to hurt..." grumbled Georgy, who accelerated once more. This time, with a slick turn of the wheel, he nudged Jane's car, forcing it sideways, and then into a spin. It was a good thing the street was narrow, or the car would have flipped as it went into an uncontrolled skin. Instead, it spun onto its side, and collided with a broken down brick building. Neither car nor building fared well; the roof crumpled from the impact, and bricks rained down. Windscreens shattered, and the sound of tinkling glass could be heard. As for Georgy, he put the car into a controlled skid, coming to an elegant stop a few yards from Jane's wrecked car. He made sure him jammed the brakes on to try and send John through the window...

So this time Georgy is going to try putting Jane in a spin. DC 15 to put them both in a spin, DC 20 for just Jane (as Jane has effectively no driving skill) Drive into Jane: 1d20+7 25. Jane goes tumbling into the side. With that magnificent roll, I will say Georgy also slides to an elegant stop; enough to make The Tattered Man make a DC 10 Reflex save or go flying though the windshield onto the road...

Toughness Save vs TTM: 1d20+3 13 which is a fail by 10; another (bruise x2), dazed, staggered.

Fort Save vs Nausea: 1d20+10 24 So just to keep track, its 3 HP, bruised, staggered? Also doing the scan thing. Time sense should work. Not sure if Direction Sense will (happy to fiat). In case needed, Search: 1d20+7 16

The Red Rat Damn that had hurt. She felt blood in her nose and in her mouth. She was pretty sure her nose was broken. Perhaps she had lost a tooth, too. And her head pounded. Not just from SLAVE, who seemed, in her experience, completely impervious to head trauma. Lamentably. It was odd she was not tied up. She patted her jacket. Unsurprisingly, her superior soviet pistols had been removed. If it came to it, her fists would have to suffice. Melding with SLAVE and her eyes, she took in IR, UV, and X Ray scans of the building, fearing little would be gleaned. She had been outsmarted, and she would not underestimate her adversary, whomever he might be. However, her internal clock should still be intact. What time was it? How long had she been out?

Synth / Nyberg As predicted...Williams and Knight had their protocols up tight. No personal information to be given out. Duly professional. This probably was always the case but with an AEGIS investigation he could see countless e mails flying around their office, reminding, on pain of death (or firing) the protocols about personal information. "Thank you. I hope the delay doesn't cost her..." he said, bluntly. His mouth had a slight cruel tint, thanks to frustration. And he never was one for being professional. It dulled creativity, in his opinion. Time for the back up plan. He went to the entrance hall, and took a deep breath in through his nostrils. The scent would be faint, but he was intimate with it. The memory was vivid, and painful, and with it, he found himself having to assert the hybrid personality. No...not yet...too fragile....he told himself. But that vivid memory served well for tracking Sarah, and that was what he intended to do...

Synth / Nyberg Alert, Nyberg walked up to the reception desk woman, eyes clear and focused. Caffeine had hit his system, but he knew that even with his creations abundance of endurance, it had been a long twenty four hours on all fronts. He had to sleep eventually, and that would be dangerous for Synth's brain unless he could provide solace. "Excuse me" he began, taking measure of the receptionist. "I'm looking for someone who works here, Sarah Shaw. I understand she might still be in the office, or nearby?" he started. His hand was thin, but his determination was not. "I really need to speak to her on a matter of some urgency. I wonder if you can help?" he asked, looking around the office. With all that had happened, who knows where she had gone? Home? Drinking? Both?

The Red Rat Well I am glad they are Capitalist swine and not using Superior Soviet Shredders... The Rat smirked as she mentally made her way through the data. In someways, it was rewarding in that she had access to the computer. In others, it was frustrating. Whilst the firewalls here had been average, her quarry had at least made sure nothing horribly damning was on it. Just breadcrumbs. Well, breadcrumbs would have to do... She couldn't track down the physical location of Tributesnow...perhaps Solokov could shed some light on the matter. She decided to give him a call, but...

Toughness Save: 1d20+5 8 I believe that is knocked out!

GM "Welcome to Pulse Media!" said Michelle, with a practised smile. She was quite good at it, in honesty - a switch and she went into professional acting mode. "My name is Michelle and I am here to look after you. We are so looking forward to working with you" she added, offering the coffee and donuts. She opened the door and let Hyperactive in. The Pulse Media studios were not bad, not great, certainly functional. It lacked the sheen of some major Hollywood players, and whilst it had its little luxuries like a kitchen and a backyard pool, it did not drip those luxuries. It was also basically open plan, with only a small office to the side for Zyte, complete with en-suite bathroom and a range of his casual clothes. On one matter it did excel. Electronics. Realms of computers, wires, a back up generator, and cameras. Zyte had his own server here, and all the IT to back it up. He could run a Special-effects company from this place, or be a games designer. And he did in fact dabble in those areas. Zyte spotted Hyperactive straight away. "Wow! You are awesome! So glad you can come. Seriously. Awesome. Seriously awesome" he said, enthusiastic and friendly. "Do you need anything? Coffee? Donuts? Mystical lightning bolts? Well, don't have any mystical lightning bolts here. Might have to order those in. But seriously, anything you want. Have a go on my VR game Die bureaucrat, DIE! if you want. We have some burgers flipping out back, you can take a swim too if you packed your trunks..." "Michelle, you did offer him donuts, didn't you?"

GM The very next day...midday... Hollywood, land of broken dreams and crushed souls... And, as it happened, the offices of Zyte Guyst. He had his own offices, named, appropriately enough Pulse Media! Whilst Hyperactive could zip around the country in minutes, Zyte had to make do with his personal luxury plane in a few hours. He also wanted to prepare and look over filmed footage. By midday, however, he was ready for Hyperactive. Just him, Zane!, Michelle, and a few poor lackeys trying to get a leg up on his coat tails. Admittedly, some of his employees had genuine talent, like the make up artist and lighting engineer. But overall, Zuyt like to get involved in everything. Annoyingly, he was quite good at everything too. Michelle was waiting outside as the clock struck midday. She didn't think Hyperactive would be late, but she looked at her watch anyway. In her other hand, some double frothed skinny machiato for Hyperactive, and a selection of donuts.

Ill suggest a scene cut on board the Black Flag with Shi'ar boosting the speed, then another scene cut to the target. But I am not precious about it; happy to do whatever. I am of the opinion that purely "Flavour"/Exposition scenes without conflict (and importantly, that conflict need not be combat) should be tight in order to get to the meat but again, I am not militant about that

Zuyt is hot stuff, but not well known. He is considered a talent by those in the know, and displays a high level of smarts and charisma. He is essentially on the cusp of fame being new, and whilst he divides critics, everyone agrees he is a name to look out for. His boast about multi-media is true - he is talented in computers as well as filming and art.

GM "I sure do, Mr. Active! I mean, let me first say what an absolute MONSTER! it is to speak to you. That's means awesome by the way" said Zyte, enthusiastic and airy. "Look, let me introduce myself. My name is Zyte. Zyte Guyst. Like in Zeitgeist, because I have my finger on the pulse, and on the pulse is my finger! Monstersauce!" he said, speaking fluently but with eloquence and elocution. "I am the new kid on the block when it comes to Multi-media 360 degrees 4D art. Stick with me, my friend, and I'll have your name on viral holo-memes throughout the land!" His pause was brief and only to catch breath. "I'm doing an art-house docu-drama piece on the legacy of superheroes through the ages. I want to speak to the new generation about the previous one. And you sound like a perfect fit! I know you may not have the best image, but I can give you publicity supreme!" "I'm doing a parallel piece on the Parrot, speaking to his son, too...I hope" he said, mumbling the latter. "If you are up for it, I would love to interview you together, you know, a bit of peace and love and all that?" "Anyway, I'm doing this all in Hollywood? Can you meet me there? I understand travel is not an issue for you...whooya!"

GM "His Son, ah, well...if I am right about the Parrot, his son is an actor called Adam Altman works in Hollywood, or at least, tries too. He isn't bad, but he isn't great either. And you know what Hollywood is like. You have to have famous parents, famous luck, or famous talent to succeed. Adam hasn't got any. Been trying for the past year. Done a few pilots in supporting roles, ended up in a few low budget flicks like Zombie Pirate Hell and My Hyena is on Fire!, but not getting anywhere. Doubt he will, really" he said, almost sadly. "But you know, with a bit of publicity, he might stand a chance. No such thing as bad publicity! Hell, I make my career on it!" he said cheerfully. "And talent, of course. I got my finger on the pulse, and the pulse has my finger ON IT!" he said, snapping both his fingers and feeling awesome, his eyes closed with the bliss of being himself. "But I doubt a second rate Hollywood actor is going to be much of a danger. Even if he did co-star in By the thrust of my blade!....some medieval ninja flick, I think" he said, for once not entirely sure of myself. "So, how do I hook up with your AWESOME! son?"

GM "Thats great!" said Zyte, turning off his camera. "You know, I think I have tracked down the Parrot. And his son" he explained. "I'm not sure, but it would be a great story. A kind of legacy thing. Reflections on fame and fortunes..." he explained, gazing into the distance, entranced by his own vision, his hands expanding the imaginary screen in front of him. "And as a parallel, I would like to speak to your son, Hyperactive! Great name, great guy. Would like to give him a spotlight, chance to speak out. Trust me, Zyst can reach mega-audiences!" he said, full of encouragement. "You don't have to fear anything from the Parrot, let me reassure you" he added, quickly. "Although from what I understand, your son can more than handle himself, am I right? Yes, I am right!" he said, confidently. "If I am right, and I am, the man I think is the Parrot is in his eighties and had a major stroke. Wheelchair bound and not the man he was. Which might be a good thing, although I think he might still be a little cynical and bitter...all great stories to show, though!"

Works great!

Synth "Ahhk...I hunderstand" said Synth, voice croaking. "Have a nice evening. Both of you" she said, keeping it together by reflex rather than judgement. The world seemed small and icy. "He is a great guy" she said to Breakfast's friend. She turned away, walking through the name. Every step, her feet felt heavier. Her legs, like lead. Even her senses, normally so acute, seemed to dull, like she was fading. Like she had nothing to hold on to. Except memories. I feared this might happen. You remember my fear... Doctor Ingvar Nyberg, the genius who lead the team that created Synth. A brilliant neurophysiologist, he developed her mind. Without years developing attachments, memories, objects, you can plummet to despair...dissociate...and with your unique physiology these emotions are not merely unpleasant, they are toxic...even lethal.... ...So I put in a safeguard... As Synth's psyche dissolved in a soup of despair, Nyberg's surfaced. Of course, it was not actually him, just an echo. His memories and cognitive architecture rolled to the front of her synthetic brain, buttressing it. What emerged was a fusion of Synth's embryonic personality and Nyberg's. And such was the safeguards imprint, that Synth found herself, painlessly this time, having Doctor Nybergs face and body. He was a middle aged man, about fifty, blonde, even a little scruffy, with a full head of blond hair and an equally blond unshaven jaw. He had those Norwegian blue eyes, but they seemed so dark, like the bottom of a lake. He was perhaps gaunt, with some lines on his forehead around his eyes. But he had some semblance of a kind of regal good looks, and an impression of intelligence and nobility, even if he did look like a hippy scientist. "Nej! Woman's clothes!" he sighed. "I should have expected!" he sighed. He was thankful it was raining and the sun was down. He would be getting enough strange looks as it was scuttling back to Winter's apartment. This was, of course, Freedom City and cross dressing was part of the tapestry. Still, his personality was not that of a cross dresser and he felt quite uncomfortable. And looking uncomfortable was what made him noticeable... Later... Nyberg was relieved to be in male clothes. He was hardly a fashionable man, either in life or in this psychological hybrid. He put on the blandest clothes he could find. Now, before sleep set in and he would fade again, he needed to act. Resolve this, make it worthwhile. As Nyberg, he had no time for emotional storms when Synth's brain was in danger. Needs must. He stepped out of Winter's residence, determined to find Jason Hull. The quickest way would be Shaw, and despite an echo of horror, he needed the quickest way. He had been up for some time, and whilst resilient, his reserves were not endless. He took a stiff coffee. He took two. And then, marching through the rain and onto a bus, he made his way to Williams and Knight again. Not to break in. But people might still be lingering, and one of them might know where Shaw was. Probably drowning her sorrows, or something like that...

GM "Just some Ultra-whizz, for me, thanks!" "And me!" echoed Zane, already twitchy from caffeine withdrawal. "Just water for everyone" superseded Michelle. Zyst seemed to carry on energy and enthusiasm undimmed. "So, wow, the Sunset Speedster! Mr. October! you look great, seriously! What a great role model you are to kids today" he said. "I'm making a small multi-media art-doc on the legacy of superheroes through the ages. What echoes do they have in the now? What do they regret, what would they change, what would they be most proud of? How do they think they have affected the world we live in today? I'm not talking about saving the world, I'm talking about their cultural influence" he said. He had the air of someone, who despite his evident ego and superficial charm, actually had a grasp on psycho-social issues. "Care to share?"

So for this scene feel free to narrate any backstory you wish about the "Parrot", with the following guidelines: 1. Only crossed swords a few times (two or three) 2. Minor supervillian with psychic-based ventriliquist powers, sometimes used relatively low powered robots to do his work. 3. Dressed like a parrot, could mimic anyone / anything. 4. Was not exactly evil, more disturbed in the head, with violent outbursts and low self esteem. 5. On that note, he was trying to break it into entertainment, and whilst modestly skilled and completely obsessed with being famous, he was too unstable to win anybody over. 6. "Retired", secret ID intact (i.e. he escaped some how) and unknown, at least twenty years ago.

Flintlock "Accelerate the ship? Accelerate das schnellest ship on das sea?" blubbered Handsome Jack, dribbling with indignation. "Why that sounds a splendid idea!" said Flintlock, clapping Handsome Jack heartily on his back. "What fun and jaunts! Sailing like an arrow, splitting the mighty waves like a cannonball!" she said, getting quite eager. "If you can do that, Ill open a bottle of 83' Rum I had stored away for the most spezchalisticles of occasions! I might even give you a glass, and my friend Sinbad, here! Yohoho!" "And in answer to your question, Sinbad. Its not the size that matters, its the motion in the ocean, am I right, crew?" she laughed. The Skeleton Crew broke out into spontaneous sea-shanty song, with a few clumsy dance steps. "Ahoy me good hearties, the winds are a blowin' Ahoy me good hearties, the anchor is up Ahoy me good hearties, we like a good blowin' Ahoy me good hearties, rub the mast down and up!" "Ta daaa!" finished Flintlock. "How can you all resist a pirate ship full of song and dance like that? Plenty more entertainment and japes to be had, me hearties!" she said, winking at Asad. And, for that matter, Shi'ar. "Say the word, and Ill pull it up. The anchor, that is! harharahar!"

GM "Cool!" said Ztyle, pointing with both hands at the drones. "Like, totally the Drone Master, right? Am I right? Am I?" "Sure you are!" said Michelle and Zane! in totally different tones. "You know it, dudes!" said Zyte, swaggering forward. "Zyte has his finger on the pulse. And what has the pulse got on it?" "Your finger" echoed Michelle and Zane! "And your finger is up your..." murmured Michelle, as quietly as possible. "So, hey, like is it cool, I mean, I know it is cool, but like its also cool to ask, is it cool to film here?" asked Zyte, bringing out his camera and hovering over the "On" switch.