Supercape

GM Early evening Saturday Night, Bedlam City, April the 8th. Fat Joe was rotund as ever. He was a tall man, bald, always wearing sunglasses in the worst of weather, with a smile that nearly split his face and wobbled his jowls. He knew plenty of people in Bedlam, and got on with most of them. He sported a missing front tooth from the one time his friendly demeanour just got some crook up the wrong way. But, as he said, he was damned if he was ever gonna stop smiling. Fat Joe sold hot dogs on the street. They weren't particularly good, but they weren't bad either. More onions that meat, usually. He just liked selling them, and people like buying them. He liked telling jokes, and demanded his customers tell him good ones. If it was a good one, they got extra mustard and two sausages in the bread. He didn't make a whole lot of money, but he didn't starve either. Clearly, he didn't starve. He was 25 stone, easy. "Say, Smith, what's brown and sticky?" he asked the Tattered Man, giving him his toothy smile. "And how about I give you extra onions if you help me out?"

Synth It was higher, now, when one was directly above the water. It would be easy enough to dive for Synth; but carrying another man? "I'm serious. And you started this, not me...." he answered soberly to the man, judging the distance carefully. but there was no time. It was now, or it was never. "So I really hope you can swim. And believe me, there is plenty more of this kind of fun coming up. Until I stop you and your friends" With that, he seized the man, holstering him easily. And with a pneumatic spring, he leapt from the van, clearing the barrier, and into the yawning drop. There were only seconds in the air, and it was a devil holding the man through the jump. But as the water approached, he did his best to twist in the air and land feet first. A belly flop would be dangerous even for his herculean constitution...

Synth "Well, beggars can't be choosers" replied Synth. With a graceful flip, as the Van hurtled along, he grasped the edge of the van, clung tightly, and did a full swing into the Van. "You don't get to experiment in me, on anyone. That's low. I guess you think you are doing them a favour. But I guess that's just the lie you tell yourself when all you are really doing is serving yourself. Or maybe someone above you has the screws on you. I don't know, but carrot or stick, this chapter is over" he said, almost calmly, although disgust and rage at the scientist stormed his head mightily. Steady steady...climb up the chain... He reached out to grab the man, taking gauge of the upcoming bridge. "Can you swim?" he asked, grimly.

Flipping into the van acrobatically (through open back doors): Acrobatics in Van: 1d20+20 28 I reckon that will do it, but feel free up to the DC, in which case I will spend an HP and would get at least 30. Going for a grapple. Not sure if this guy is a minion or what his PL is. In any case, feel free to roll on Synths behalf if needed. If a minion (and needed) taking 10 on attack roll and a +22 grapple check!

Synth (as Knuckles) Still clinging on, Synth nodded in agreement. "Cops and crooks. Getaway Van. I get that..." he replied. The thing was, it was a tricky situation. What exactly could he do? If he stopped the Van, then the police would be upon them, and, well...they would have the devil of a job separating who was the crook and who was the concerned citizen. They would probably all be arrested. The labcoat and driver would probably be bailed for dangerous driving but little else. And Synth would not be able to afford a good lawyer or bail. So, he was in the vat of vexation with the scientist, unpalatable as it might be. "Step on it then! I don't want to end up in the slammer!" he yelled at the driver, before flipping acrobatically back to the hole in the van. "Guessing you want to deal with just me, rather than me AND the cops?" he ventured.

Synth (as Knuckles) "That's a good question. I hoped you would tell me what's going on..." said Synth, half to himself. The smack had cut open his face on the jagged torn metal. Not enough to hurt him, but there was a gash, and a trickle of blood, that gave his already nasty look an even more battered one. The ladder of intrigue was a slippery one, it seemed. He suspected that the man in the van only half knew what the score was. There was someone higher up? Surely this man was not the architect of the whole show? But for now, he took his head out of the van to garner a look at the scenery. And, with a little shuffling, fluid and precise, he leaned over the Van to get a look at the driver. "What's going on?" he asked the very same driver, head hanging from the roof, upside down, with a nasty gash and a pair of wild eyes. It was a good question.

Synth (as Knuckles) The ripping and rending of the Van roof had taken its toll. He was drenched in sweat, his muscles worn and tremulous. He could not sustain this flush of strength for long, and now he had to cash the cheque he had written. He gripped the hole he had made, catching his breath. With his muscles swollen and fatigued, he could not squeeze through the hole he had made, but he could put his head through the hole. "Mister, the police are on our tail. Its going to get ugly, very ugly. You are in far far over your head. Now, I can help you get out of the mess you got yourself into, or I can dig you a hole to tumble in with a whole banquet of mess for you to digest..."

Move action, activating Super Strength from the Muscle array power (Super Strength 3) With the presumption that rage is still active (although I imagine about to crash), that gives a Strength bonus - for the purpose of damaging inanimate objects, of +13. I am not sure what the toughness of the van roof is, but Ill let you sort that one out!

Synth This was not going well. But at least I'm still in the chase. Time was running out. The police would be here, any moment. And who knew what other tricks the scientist had. He poured energy to his muscles, making them swell and expand. His tank top and jeans half-ripped as his limbs and chest expanded, turning him into a steroid weight lifting freak. He looked like a sack of melons. With new strength, he grasped the roof of the van, and, with veins popping, sweat dripping, dug deep, fingers clinching into the corners. He needed to get inside, and, before the adrenaline crash, he wanted to do it by ripping open the van...

Synth (as Knuckles) Damn the police... He couldn't see a good way out of this problem. At best, he would be arrested for speeding. That was at best. He had no driving licence, and wasn't actually a legal person. And it looked very much like he was chasing the van in an aggressive manner. So, this needed ending, and quickly. He was not keen on violence, and that went doubly for the police, who were only doing their job, and doing it (by and large) with selflessness and dedication. Jumping onto the seat of the motorbike, he paused for a moment, gauging the distance, and then... He leaped through the air, propelled by the motorbikes speed and his own power, sailing for a moment through the streets of Freedom City, and reaching out for the roof of the van...

So broadly thats a disarm check, or a tug of war, or some snapped taser wires! I'll let you decide that. Feel free to roll for Synth if anything is opposed. In the mean time, just trying to drive up close to the Van.

Synth Ouch! Again! This time the fasciculating muscles did not bother him. Instead, he grabbed the taser dart from his chest firmly, pulled it out, and wound the wires around his fist. Pumped full of adrenaline, he could barely feel the electricity. He stepped on the gas, ever so slightly, and pulled the taser towards him, winding the wires around and around his fist. Either the man inthe lab coat was stronger than him (which he doubted, but with all this talk of enhancement who knew for sure?) or he would relinquish the taser. Or perhaps the wire would snap. In any case, he didn't fancy being shot at again. Sooner or later, and probably sooner, the effect of the raw adrenaline would wear off. He shouted a primal roar at the Labcoat, more from rage than for any reason. But it would perhaps signal that it would take more than a taser to stop him.

Fort Save vs Taser: 1d20+12 22. Incidentally I dont know if rage is active still - it lasts a minute. Anyway just to bear in mind (and the five rounds of fatigue afterwards). I'm quite tempted to keep those taser wires in, as a form of connection between Synth as the lab coat. But in any case are we playing this by the book (initiative and so on?) happy to keep it more freefloating if that suits.

Synth Driving around Freedom City was second nature to Synth, thanks to over a year of hauling garbage. His motor control and reflexes were well beyond that of a human, and he knew how to handle a vehicle. It should be said that the vehicle he knew how to handle was an enormous garbage disposal truck, and at speeds of generally under 10mph. But still. Now was the time for speed. He could not risk the man slipping away. So he pressed on the accelerator, determined to catch the van. He sped as fast as he could reasonably get away with, his caution still present but ripped and tattered to the demands of expediency. He was sure he could catch up, but disabling the van was another issue. And the police would not be far away...

Synth (as Knuckles) Synth couldn't tell exactly where he was, although it had to be Freedom City. He had stomped enough streets picking up garbage to know most of it, but things were a little different in the current circumstance. The man was getting away. That would not do. With a mighty leap he heroically missed the van, tumbled, rolled, and collided into some trash can's. Off target! Too much alcohol! he would normally have made that, but he felt his balance off ever so slightly. And for this, he had left his skin and blood on the road. Superficial wounds only, at least for Synthetic flesh. Still stung, but time to worry about that later. Instead, he picked himself up and ran to the motorbike...if he could get that started...

Lets go with that.

Synth Synth felt a tonic gripe throughout his body. "Gnnnaahhhh!" came the grunt, as muscles squirmed from the shock. These men were brutes, and he had little sympathy for them. His adrenal glands were already wired to fire from the pain, and once again he let them shoot into overdrive. He stood up, eyes wide, pupils dilated, like a bolt of steel. He did not hold back, grabbing the first man and ramming his fist into face, even harder than before. He turned, teeth in a grimace of grit, eyes furious. There was a long second, a pause whilst the fury burned. Then he slammed his fists into the other mans gut and chest, knocking him away. He did not stay to enjoy the fruits of his pugilism. Instead, he turned to follow the labcoat, the man with real answers, and started after him, fleet of foot.

Move action to run after the lab coat

Free Action: Activating Rage (for that nice Fort save bonus). Meaning Synth's defence is now 18 Standard Action: Punch in the face again, Shifting -2 Attack, +2 DC, Taking 10 on attack for 18 (presumly against flat footed opponent). DC 27 Tough if it hits. If it does hit, using takedown 1 for attacking the non-minion, again shifted as above: Attacks subdual squad man: 1d20+8 25 Which I guess will hit and another DC 27 Tough. Let me know results and I will post and choose move action accordingly.

Saves vs Stun Sticks: 2#1d20+12 27 19

Synth Synth, or Knuckles, was no fighter, but every muscle was strong, and every nerve was fast. He simply stepped forward like a bolt of lightning, and planted his fist in the face of the first, like a biting cobra. Without a pause, without even waiting for the man to fall or stumble, he dropped like a cat, and rolled to one side in a fluid slick movement, like a tumbling ball, springing up again to one side. "Fast? I'm fast already? Strong? I am strong too" he explained, keeping his head. No need for the flush of adrenaline in his blood and sinews yet. At least, unless those needles came near him...

Initiative: 1d20+16 36 well I will presume that wins. Lets start with the minion, for simplicity, taking 10 for a 20 roll, straight punch, DC 23. As move action a -5 penalty acrobatic bluff on the other in preparation for the next round. Acrobatics roll: 1d20+15 31

Synth So you are just another pawn in the chain, are you? Synth had no desire to be experimented on. Preparing himself, he altered his muscles from their normal hyper efficient state to the hyperelastic ligaments and tissues that would allow a quick escape. Hopefully. Not one to anger easily, human experimentation was an area that made his synthetic blood boil. "I'm not your petri-dish" he said simply, before wrenching his limbs free. "I grew up in a petri dish. But I'm not going back...."

Synth "I'd ask you why?" replied Synth. Perhaps the facade had not dropped completely, but it was no longer complete. "Why make me faster, why make me stronger?" Lots of good reasons to make the human race smarter, though... "If you can do all that, why aren't you down the hospital healing the sick and raising the dead?" he ventured. Perhaps he was pushing his luck. Perhaps his luck should be pushed. "Looks to me your business is war, what with the boots and guns here. And looks to me like you might be asking, but you aren't exactly waiting for a reply either" he suggested, giving a soft tug on his straps. "Not saying no, mind you, just wanting to get the picture..."

Synth (as Knuckles) Synth started to mumble. There was only so much a nose could tell you. No need to drop the facade yet, but time to start awakening. He opened his eyes, still mumbling, still dribbling, still slurring. "What the hell! What did I drink? SOmeone doped me...mushta...mushta doped me!" he complained in a poorly articulated way, as if his lips were numb and his tongue paralytic. He tested the binds - gently, easy enough to slip out of, but best not to let that morsel slip out. "Hey, where am I? What is this? This my prize?" he said, more loudly this time.