Supercape

GM Meanwhile, a polite applause greeted Paradigm, although one would have to say it was a little lacklustre, and there were audible rumblings of disappointment which Paradigm, lamentably blessed with super hearing, could make out in moderately painful detail. Irrespective of the poetry of Paradigm, which was indeed poetic but hit a hard audience, the Curtain slowly raised, to reveal the choir, who started singing in quite beautiful harmony, with a most obscure polymeter rhythmn. Lights swept and chimed to the strange beat, and the effect was quite magnificent. Paradigm could even here the choir sing in ultra high frequencies beyond terran spectrum. And the Bloom arose, in a chrome cage which was also a magnificent and reflective sculpture - like an intricate exoskeleton. As the lights flashed the Bloom flowered, again and again, even more magnificently than the small display Paradigm had seen before. It seemed, somehow, to attune its life and death to the music and light. Surely one of the most strange and beautiful sights and sounds in the galaxy, the Audience were awed to the point of silence, but awed they were. Sphere swam through the air to Paradigm. "Thank you for your speech. Bold and beautiful" it said, glowing like a soft yellow sun. "I have heard from the Robot servants. Barrier has apparently gone to the Hangar. I understand President Munn's ship is leaving..."

GM At the Hangar.... As it turned out, the Hangar was singular. The Silver Bullet was there, alongside a number of other (usually expensive looking) ships. Red Spear had a good handle on the layout of the base, having gone around it many times in circles (literally and metaphorically). She was also fleet of foot, and perfectly in tune with the low gravity of Nocturne. It took but moments to reach the Hangar - although the Hangar itself was extremely big. Munn's ship, The Deep Wave, was a curious one. It was fluidic; a robust and shiny outer shell of nano-magnetic mercury that held the form and interior structures, yet instead of an atmosphere, it was essentially an underwater environment. Not fast, not armed, but silent and resilient, and with its adaptable form, suitable for most environments - be it the cold vaccuum of space, the storms of a gas giant, or a turbulent submarine swell. As such, it was hard to work out how far it was into leaving, but one could hazard a guess it was not long - the surface was rippling, and a thumming drum sound was present. No sign of Munn - or Lexa for that matter. Presumably inside already. "Can I help you?" asked the Chrome Robot maintaining the Hangar, who was walking away from The Deep Wave. Its voice was, like its sibling in the Bar, flat and without inflection. "I must ask you to leave for safety reasons. The Deep Wave is about to take off..."

Thevshi, could you make a CHA roll? (ok, technically an untrained Perform [oratory] roll...and yes, technically perform is trained only, but screw it, I view trained as reasonable for playing the flute, but not for acting, oratory, or comedy...)? Also, can Paradigm make a WIS roll, DC 20 at this stage. However, if she makes DC 15 on her oratory roll she can have a +2 situational modifier, if she makes DC 20 oratory she can have a +5 situational modifier.

GM "Well give it to me anyway...and if you don't object, I think I have an idea to smooth out the creases when I find him" With that...and more slowly this time, with face turned away from the bustle behind her, she once again shifted her face. Her form filled out, her bones grew and contracted, sinew following suit. It hurt, but with a bit more slowness, it wasn't too bad. And now, Jeb's face stared back at Jeb. "A set of your clothes would be handy to complete the picture" she asked. "The ones you are wearing, ideally. I can always swap with you" she explained, her head imagining some rather suspicious activity in a men's bathroom cubicle between the two of them. "And then, I believe it is time to go in search...."

Synth Dr Jason Hull looked like a good lead. Geneticist. Knight and Williams Research. She would have to look into that. As for the code - and the keys for that matter - they didn't mean much right now. Pocket them for later. Right now though, before Jason Hull, she had better check on Gus. How long had it been? Not too long, but not too short either. "Jeb, I'm going to check on your friend. I left him out cold. But before I do, how would you like me to handle him? I know you are friends, well, at least of sorts, but it sounds like he was playing a game behind your back. Maybe to protect you, I don't know...." she left the question open. "It sounds like you both got over your heads, but I think maybe Gus got in deeper. Too deep...."

Synth "Let's get out of here. Hospitals make me nervous" she told Jeb. "and it lacks in privacy" she whispered to him under her breath. She took Jeb outside, with cooler air and less bustle. A few smokers had come out to grab their fix, even if they were in a wheelchair with a drip i n their arm. And in one case, a poor soul had an oxygen tank, yet still insisted on smoking his coffin nail. "Sounds like your friend was up to a little more than you know" she ventured. She was actually a bit worried about Gus now - surely he had woken from his stranglehold induced sleep. The question was more - what had he been up to. "I best go check on him" she explained. "But lets have a little peek at this first..." she finished, pulling out the last remaining personal effect of Gus, and hoping it would be bountiful with clues...

GM The Chrome robots voice was flat and drab, in contrast to the sleek shiny lines. "Apologies, location unknown. Lexa is missing..." it replied, polite, accurate, and useless. On the other hand, help might come from unexpected quarters. Red Spear, the bounty hunter, all leather and hair and ruby eyes, stepped up, quickly and silently like a panther or hawk. "I couldn't help but overhear" she said, with a large smirk on her rose lips. "So the star of the Show has gone missing minutes before the opening night?" she said, almost laughing at the irony of it. She grew more serious for a moment, tapping her lips with her finger. "One friend of the galaxy to another" she said, almost conspiratorially to Barrier. "Devil Dog and me, we aren't getting anywhere searching for our target. But this smells interesting - a kidnapping! very dramatic! I'd almost think it was a stunt of hers, if it wasn't for President Munn being totally obsessed with her and his ship is prepping for take off just before the curtain rises..." she explained. "Look, I have eyes in the sky above, and I was notified just now" she explained. "I don't think it helps me, but if it's alright, I'll tag along and help. You can pay back the favour another day" she offered. More quietly, she added "And I'll keep the Dog out of this one. He is mad with rage...." And with a more normal volume, plus added singing lilt to her voice, she finished "Besides, I can't stand that President Munn. Totally drip!"

Starshot Feeling his cybernetic servo-motors calm down with the lessening heat, Starshot dismounted too. Even if he could sink the heat away, he was still sweating. He took another swig of water and noted there was not a lot left. He took off his helmet to feel the sun, heat, and fumes in his face. It was not a great smell. The trip reminded of reading Dante's Inferno decades ago, stuck in some gritty and unpleasant war zone. The memory made him feel cold despite the climate. The Cavern was a welcome relief from the blaze. He turned to Soreen and attempted to make contact again, via the strange but effective mental telepathy the species had. Is the trial underground? In this cave?

Synth "You could say that" replied Synth. "I was grown rather than born. Synthetic flesh. I can tell you it hurts to change though, especially when I do it fast. I nearly passed out back there" she added; perhaps trying to elicit a spot of sympathy - or at least, judge whether Jeb actually had a sympathetic soul. Synth had no real issues with fighting. It wasn't her thing, but if that was what people wanted to do, that was there choice. "I don't get the appeal of it" she explained, honestly. "But if people want to crack skulls, then they have every right to do it. Adrenaline, sweat, and blood. We are all animals in our core" She knew that well enough. The Limbic system. That rage. Although for Synth, she could control it - from her normal calm state to a bezerker luke rage, all at the flip of a virtual switch in her brain. "But breaking the rules could mean something a lot more serious gets broken" she conceded, steeling slightly. "And maybe Gus....well, let's see..." She remembered the weight in the pocket, and on this recollection, she turned out his pockets thoroughly infront of Jeb, to see if any clues might reveal themselves...

Synth "I...have many names" replied Synth. Although I'm not bold enough to tell you any of them! "You can call me Synth. I'm...not from around here. Not originally. But I live here now, wearing a different face" she explained. She felt a little uncomfortable wearing a woman's face in the rather more gruff clothes of Gus. Not because such gender identities made any difference at all to her, who had none, but because it might attract attention. Still, this was freedom city, as cosmopolitan as it came. "My real face, well, you might see it now and again. Not such a good look" she explained; again, she had no problem with looking one way or another, but that pale, translucent flesh was disturbing to most. "I'm not a cop, or a politician. I'm an anarchist, if you want to call me anything. But I do look out for people, and the city. And that includes you" She paused, scrutinising him. "So, do you want my help? Seems like something bad is going down...?"

Synth "I'm...." She paused. "Well I am not exactly sure. Some cars came headlong at us...I think...we had to swerve....it was all a blur" she said, somewhat vague about the truth. Dr Nyberg and his team had plenty of medical and psychological experience; she was pretty confident on the effects of such things. "I'm ok...my friend here took the worst of it, I think" she added. She handed him over to the professionals, but firmly refused any medical examination. It would come up with very strange results indeed. In any case, she felt bound to make sure the driver was alright, so accompany him she would - by foot if need be. Hopefully he would be grateful, or scared enough, to explain exactly what was going on in the bar.,..

GM Sphere seemed to concur with Paradigm, it was still smooth and graceful, but agitate purple blotches whizzed across its surface. "I am disturbed at the amount of images and words President Munn has collected of Lexa. I am not programmed in organic psychology...but this appears an obsession..." Sphere was predictably well acquainted with the production of the Night Flower - he seemed to function as Lexa's right hand man, and had a very advanced brain, with total recall. Of course, he was not willing to provide details of the production itself (spoilers!) but he was more than able to guide and instruct Paradigm. Of course, time was pressing. "The Opera begins with a choir, and light show which strobes across the thermal lake. The lights included pulses ultravoilet waves, which stimulate the Bloom. We have constructed a mechanical architecture in the vent - a bit like a skeleton - which should also lift the bloom to the surface. It should be quite spectacular" Sphere went into some brief details of the musicology - the choiral peice was relatively simple tonally, but constructed in a highly complex 13 and 7 beat polymeter, which changed in divisions of notes as the Bloom arrived. It was, according to Sphere, a juxtaposition of beautiful simplicity and mysterious complexity (when considering tone and rhythm). The five singers had been practicing for weeks getting it right, and the stage technicians had had to work doubly hard to understand the rhythmn and coordinate it with the lights. Lexa, apparently, did not allow for mechanised metronomes, preferring subtle changes in speed according to the mood of the moment. "If you could perhaps make some speech of welcome, a few words on the Bloom. A touch of diplomacy given the rich, powerful, and famous gathered. But...a personal note on the Bloom might be in order. People expect intimacy from Lexa's work. An introduction to set that tone would be...optimal..." it advised, awkwardly. There were now but minutes until the curtain was raised. Paradigm was back stage, with the singers who were calming last minute nerves and warming up their vocal cords...

Synth "Very well" replied Synth, pulling the man onto her shoulder and helping him towards the lights. "Here! Over here!" she yelled at the emergency services, waving her other arm. "We got someone injured!" They were not, it seemed to her, out of the woods yet. Surely someone had engineered that near-accident on the road. Or perhaps the man on her arm had. Whilst it was quite possible that he had suffered a concussion, there was always the possibility that he had been drugged (perhaps byhis own hand) or something else was effecting his mind. He had not been quite himself, it seemed, even before the crash. Maybe it was the psychological shock - but of what? She kept eyes and ears keen, however. Those lights, those cars, they might be more than emergency services...

Starshot "Well enjoy the view, comrades" said Starshot. "It looks like we will have it for a while". It was pretty spectacular, but in his experience spectacle faded quickly. The beating of pulse was what lived in the memory; the quickening of emotion, a signal that something was truly worth remembering. Perception without affect was grey at best. He fancies sore feat and aching limbs would be the abiding memory, with jets of flame a second. He took another swig of water and shouldered his rifle. "Lets be on our way then. And hope we are not exhausted by the time of the trials, whatever they may be" he suggested. "We are in the hands of our hosts. Benign, it seems, but in such circumstance, let us keep our wits about us, and our eyes and ears keen...." And with that, he stomped forward to the rocky terrain.

Synth It was a start. I guess saving someones life can be persuasive... "I'm going to make sure you don't die, first" she replied. "And make sure nobody else dies either. I'm not a cop, I'm not the law. I'm just here to try and make the city a little bit of a better place" "I don't see how you can trust me. I could be anyone, anywhere. But I just saved your life, and you don't see me clapping handcuffs on you" she explained. "And more to the point, what do you want me to do?" she asked, insistently. "I'll help you. Right now. Seems like someone is hunting you. And I don't think its the cops, although they won't be far away. So what do you want me to do? Turn you in? Take you to hospital? Take you somewhere else?" "That seems the best way for you to trust me. I earn it. If you tell me how to help you, Ill do it..."

Synth "Listen. The cops are coming, along with the ambulance and probably the fire brigade too. I can help you...." It was another crunching agony, but she did it, anyway, returning to the platinum haired half-punk girl that the driver had met in the bar. "They call me Synth. I look out for people. Try to clean up the streets" Quite literally, in fact. "I was looking into the club. Blood and guts from what I can tell. Sounds like you and your friend way over your head" she explained. "Now, I don;t want to screw your day, or put you away. But I do want to find out why a bar in Freedom City is awash with blood. So please"...she pleaded, trying to ignore the grinding pain in her face. That was hard. She grimaced, flesh on fire. "You haven't got long to decide. Cast your lot in with me, or the police...."

Starshot It was quite a view. "Like pillars of fire from Hades" he remarked. Beautiful and harsh. But, as Soreen reminded him, once should not forget to admire the beauty even in the harshness. "Even Hell has a good scenery" he added. "Almost worth crashing for, in fact" He did pause, for a moment or more, to admire. "Looks fiendishly hot though. Even if we weave between the fire. How are you two going to hold up?" he asked. "Sands, fire, blazing suns..." he said, scanning the horizon. "I don't want you dying on me, even if you do leave a good looking corpse in a good looking planet" he explained. "Is this anything like your homeworlds?"

Ok using healing power, and taking fatigue from that.

Synth This was a start, at least. Four days breathing space - to find out what was going on. The door. A replacement? The employees? In any case, Synth could not abide it any longer. The man in his arms was probably going to make it. But probably was not good enough. "I can't let you die" he explained. "But after this, you have to tell me everything. I might even be able to help..." He hoped that the man would be grateful, but he had every reason not to be. Perhaps though, the driver might be victim more than conspirator. Although most people were a bit of both. Placing both his hands on the man, he concentrated - letting his own cells flow out, repairing and regenerating the driver. It took a lot of him - this time, as always, but it was effective. Ribs could mend, lungs could repair. Flesh and sinew, bone and blood, would knit itself back together.

Synth Time was running out, one way or another. "Car crash" he explained, obviously. Was there something else going on with this man? "Everything gone. You need to stay awake, man! Someone is after us. I don't know who..." he explained, looking around. Something surely had been following them. Something to get them spooked? "You got to focus! What's happening on Saturday? Look at me! Its Gus! I can help out. But right now someones hunting us. Must be the blood. Someone found out something. We got to clean up the mess! Tell me what to do!" It was a flurry of questions, but this was his last shot. Either the emergency services or their supposed hunters would be on them at any moment. Irrespective of the answer, or lack of it, there was a further dilemma - what to do? The Emergency services would have access to medical treatment, and at least some security from any potential hunters. On the other hand, it would most likely mean the end of this deception. Questions would be asked, and blood tests probably taken. At the end of the day though, enough was enough. Synth may have saved them from a head on collision but he had hurt the man. He needed hospital, even just to check him over. In his mind, the emergency services would come - police, ambulance, and even fire brigade. He would have to deal with what came thereafter...

Synth "Not with that arm" replied Synth, with full honesty. Looked like multiple fractures there, and one or two ribs were pretty suspect. He finished percussion of his right lung. Resonant -- for now. He should live, although the pain would be pretty impressive. His groggy consciousness would be a mercy under the circumstance. Synth kicked open the door - forcefully enough to leave it half hanging. With fluid speed, she pulled the poor man out of the car. "What are we going to do?" he asked him, taking his flaccid head in head and turning his head to to his own, staring at him. "Stay with me! I need you! What are we going to do? Who is after us? Where are we going to hide?" he demanded. And then, the most pertinent of questions! "What are we going to do about Saturday? Your arm is busted up, real good....you aren't going to be ready for anything!"

It might break the disguise, if the driver is conscious, but a quick medical examination - taking 10 (with skill mastery) for a Medicine roll of 26 should do the trick?

Synth The giddiness and disorientation faded quickly. Synth tore out the airbags that had inflated. There was no time to lose. The driver might be critically injured, and it was most likely that someone serious was chasing them both. On that matter, it was most likely that when those same people caught them, more serious injury would occur (and possibly worse). A couple of thugs would be no match for Synth. But this was Freedom City, and there was plenty worse out there than a couple of thugs. Synth pulled off the seatbelts too, catching the groaning man. Inside his head, the memories bubbled. A dozen top of the line biomedical scientists, a team led by Dr Nygstrom, whose memories bubbled and simmered the most. They were top of their game in the world, and whilst only an echo lived on inside the Cranium of Synth, those memories were cohesive and coherent enough to give Synth exceptional expertise in all those fields; not least of which, medicine. He studied, he smelled, and he touched. Percussion on the lungs? Any spinal fractures? Pulse? Breathing? There was the basics of emergency medicine, but also the risk of more insidious but equally lethal conditions, such as internal bleeding or a haemothroax.

GM The Bar, Reception Hall The Barman, short and shrivelled, started - albeit with a slow trajectory - to recover his composure. He poured himself a drink of the very same terran Gin he had served Barrier. With the additional touch of a Carpellian Olive which leaked it purple juices into the spirit. He took a long gulp. "Ah...I can't stand it...." he concluded, slamming the drink down nearly untouched. "How those foul Terran's can drink such excrement is beyond me. In all my years I..." he shook his head. He seemed angry now. "And how those two got an invite...hmph. Money, I expect. And influence. Red Spear, she has leverage in high places. She has been searching for Zeno for years. It was only a matter of time, I suppose" he said, pulling himself together promptly. "As for Lexa? Now...I...I confess I am not an artist. At least not in that way. The machines, maybe..." he waves lazily at the chrome servants who were now almost idle. "I honestly don't know much about what she has planned. Gave...given...free licence, as far as I know. I have seen many of the musicians gather backstage. I would have thought she would be there if you want her. Although I would think she would be busy...it is not long now..." he glanced at the hall clock. "Which reminds me, I must take my seat too. I don't want to miss this! A moment to be remembered!" he finished, excitedly, throwing down his polishing cloth and scuttling off.

Synth Synth was a shocked as his driver, at this point. "Look out!" he screamed, genuinely concerned. His synthetic flesh could take a collision...probably. It was no so much resilient - it was simply that Synth could survive quite happily on half a lung and total disembowelment. But still, a full on collision was no tea party. And as for the driver. That could get real ugly. And quite possibly fatal. This was going to hurt however you cut it. But better a tumble than a collision. Taking the initiative, he took hold of the steering wheel. "We gotta get out of here!" he said, pulling the wheel to one side sharply to take them off the road. He hoped they would land in one piece. Preferably the right way up. But he feared this was one step up the ladder to a pile up...