Supercape

Marie panted, head turned. She had moved to one side, pressing her small body against the mould ridden walls of the sewers, wet and grey. For a moment, there was a flash of green light in her goggles, then it was gone. "It..was..." she said, almost embarrassed. "I am sorry, I had no idea...whatever Neutron Industries are dumping down here, it is getting worse. More mutations..." she said, picking herself up and dusting herself down. "Look at the size of them!" she exclaimed. The tsunami of rats had lead to several dozen being trampled to death in their wake, and an equal number of badly injured ones that would be dead soon enough. "Come, come, let us press on. It seems my...our...mission is all the more urgent!"

Post away! YOu avoid the rats but feel free to narrate a nibble or so if it suits you. And besides which, pretty unpleasant!

Right, invisibility probably wont help a lot given the stampede, but lets give you a +2 on your reflex save to avoid the swarm. DC 15 to avoid getting swamped. If you do, a DC 15 Fort check to stop getting diseased! Faces the Rats: 2d20 13 Marie Just makes it (base roll 12, with bonus)

GM Meanwhile...Just across the street... The lanky "Mr. Smith" scuttled through the streets of Freedom City in a rude way, barging past an old lady that drew a smattering of "tuts" from around him but no real action. Such was diffusion of responsibility. Around one corner, more elbows, around another. To dirtier streets were crumbling masonry was the order of the day. Or, more precisely, the order of antique centuries. Then, the man opened a door in a crumbling building. He went up some crumbling staircases, that creaked most alarmingly, and gave a gloomy horror to the scene. Then, into a room that was hardly a room. It was chipped walls and rotten floorboards. The only furniture was a battered leather chair that had seen better decades. The tall thin man sat down and patted his urn. "There there, my dear. From the depths, he shall wake. Praise Dagon! Praise DAGON!" he said, feverishly rubbing the urn.

GM A scuttling. Screeching, rattling, scuttling. More and more. And more still. Marie put her hand over Bonfire, telling him to stop. "Rats!" she explained. "Something has changed them. Driven them wild. The Uranium. We have had some before, but...." A thousand giant rats ran around the corner, like a blanket of fur and teeth and gnarled tails. Their speed was shocking. Some trampled over others. There were small ones. Their were big ones. Their were large ones. And their were rats the size of dogs. "Never like this!" she shrieked.

"Meeting, no, Lass, not meeting anyone. It would be a miserable thing if I found what I am looking for!" she said, waving her pistol around airily and with a paucity of caution. "But tell me of this man, this Aquatic man? What did he look like? Wide eyes? Puffy face? Scales? Forked tongue? Something of Innsmouth about him? Did he send your spine crawling and your skin shivering? Something queer about him?" she asked, leaning forward with her flintlock still pointed in a haphazard and dangerous manner. "And most importantly, what was this patron want in this here establishment?" she paused and cast her drunken eyes around the trappings of the shop. "Aye, and a fine establishment it is, lass! Most queer and unusual books! Why, I could add to my library!"

GM Trudge trudge trudge, through sewers filled with unspeakable gunk. Even rats trod carefully, and plenty of rats there were. Possibly even other things, if you were feeling brave enough to look. Stinking muck clawed up the feet of Bonfire and Marie, although the small Frenchwoman seemed used to it. Barely wrinkled her nose. It seemed that Marie knew the sewers like the back of her hand. And more importantly seemed to be able to navigate in the near dark. Even lugging a case full of Uranium around the sewers to slow them down, the flashlights could not possibly hope to keep up. It would be a long trudge too, across a few miles of the city. Good exercise, if one was feeling positive. "We are not far now! I have set up camp directly below Neutron Industries, in Hanover. I have everything there. Plans, equipment, even a shower!" she said proudly, explaining how she was siphoning off electricity and water from the city. Another crime to add to her list, one might suppose. "We must be careful though..." she explained. "Security is tight! But we can enter from below. Then, I can we can Superheat the Uranium to disable the facility..."

GM "The plan, first of all, is to stay alive, and not get caught" replied Marie. Flashlights lanced down behind them, from the manhole cover that Bonfire had used. "Come, quickly! I have set up my base here, below Neutron Industries. " she virtually spat when she said the name. "I have found out they are dumping radioactive sludge into the sewers. The bastards!" she spat again. "My plan is to disable them. Neutron Industries have a cosy arrangement with the government, the mafia, and practically everyone. And that includes the police. You think its police officers coming after us? Think again. Ex-military. And they will shoot to kill..." she explained, tugging Bonfire down the sewers. The smell was worsening.

GM "Oh! Are they dead?" said Marie, wringing her hands and muttering to herself. "I'm sorry, so sorry. I...I don't want anyone to die, but...but I have to do what needs to be done!" she implored. Her goggles glowed green whilst the rest of her seemed normal. At least, normal for a petite woman in a sewer. "I didn't know you would be there. But I hoped. I heard about the Cut-throat gang and the hostages. Listened in on the police radio" she explained. "I'm on the run, carrying a case full of uranium 7, and needed a break. Namely, I needed you!" she explained. "Before you ask, yes, I stole it!" she paused. "There is a dangerous research facility in Hanover. I know, I used to work there. Six months ago, they developed Uranium 7, a highly potent nuclear material. Sounded great at first, but then the mutations started. It is devastating and unpredictable to all biological material. But this was a company that is only interested in profits!" she explained. "I've spend three months down here, planning to stop them! I finally managed to get some Uranium 7, but I get busted..."

For reference, the bag of Uranium 7 weighs 50lbs (heavy stuff, uranium!). That means a Medium Load for Bonfire (normally, bar extra effort). Whilst carrying it: Maximum Dodge +3 (Making Defence = +6....that's a pain with dodge focus!) Check Penalty -3 (which is not well described in books but probably means anything not attack/defence/save) Speed 2/3 Normal Narratively, I guess you can do something along the lines of that!

GM "Turn off that racket!" came a French voice. Two hazy green lights appeared, and then so did Marie. Marie was a petite woman, just over 5 feet and waif like but with a spine. She was not particularly pretty, but had an ethereal attractiveness to her, a certain Je ne said quoi. Her brunette locks would normally fall easily and stylishly, but sweat and sewer had taken the shine of them. What was most peculiar about Marie was her glasses - or more accurately her goggles, that glowed with the green lights that had preceded her. "Thank God you have come!" she said, relieved. "You have the materials, yes? Uranium 7! it is not too dangerous, just heavy!" she explained. On the latter point, she was right. The bag weighed a considerable amount!

"Sure sure, I mean this girl is superfine, I mean crazysuperfine, ya know, like hot!" he smiled excitedly. Computers flickered on, which only really made Dwayne "worse". Everything, both material and cyber, was a complete jumble. Lists of disjointed half-saved conversations flipped up and down screens in various mundane and exotic graphic themes. "u r s0 sm4rt! b3t u r h4nds0m3 2 lolz!" Nonsense compliments were the start, and then a picture or several - face shots of an olive skinned beauty with luxury hair and emerald eyes who could have graced any number of magazine covers. Only one name; "Jenny X". The chat become less text speak and more serious, lists of chats about government conspiracies and hidden agendas, but always flirtatious. "See what I mean! She CRAZYsuperfine!" smiled Dwayne happily, but pointing to her last comments, about meeting up for coffee, a little more anxiously.

The smoke spluttered through the sunlight, warping and bending Bonfire into invisibility. The backdoor was open, just so slightly ajar, still as a tombstone in the equally still April air. The only movement was a mangy cat on the prowl for food and possibly booze. Just a few feet ahead, a manhole. Like the door, it was ever so slightly misplaced, ever so slightly ajar. And it was the only one Bonfire could see. From the tiny crack it had left open, an unpleasant stench gently wafted upwards. As far as Bonfire could tell, it was no worse nor better than your average sewer smell. It was just that the average sewer smell was not to be relished.

An open sewer hole! Well done sir! Yes all good. I'm going to suggest additional friction by making Bonfire a fugutive from the law (but what law?) which will not last of course (unless you wish it so and we can contrive it so). This is ramping up the "screwing with your PC" of course so let me know if you wish otherwise! Please pop in suggestions in OOC for thread and what you want from it. The reason for this is that I like PCs to walk away from a thread with a new complication, new outlook, new history! For instance, if you think a particular NPC is attractive (in a narrative way) let me know and we can beef him/her up and work up a connection. Sorry if this seems over analytical - I am not - just a heads up on the peculiar way I GM!

About 10 minutes later! The flat had improved by precisely nothing at all by the time Ms Nikki Dee arrived and opened the door. It continued to reek of disarray. "Help! Help! Help!" garbled her brother, tearing his hair and pacing up and down. He was wearing a dirty t shirt with tomato sauce stains, one sneaker, and Y-Fronts that were mercifully cleaner than his T shirt. "I've met this girl...woman...girl...on the internet! I know I know I shouldn't talk but she was so cool and she understood me and she knows all about me and we talk and we chat and she is so cool and understands and we talk and we talked about all sorts of stuff like you know big stuff about the world and everything and all the stuff in the world you know like how the government and stuff and area 51 and the virus in Russia you know and hacking the top secret websites, and the illuminati and all that stuff and she knows everything and...." He paused for breath. This pause was, by necessity, a long one, as he had much breath to catch. "And now she wants to meet me! Help! What do I do?!?!?" he asked, pulling at his t shirt and hopping from one foot to another.

The voice at the other end was a womans. She had a French accent, but in a clipped way, devoid of allure or seduction. Perhaps it was fear, or anger, or both. Perhaps a woman bitter, scorned. But on a bad line in a bad bar, who could tell? "Is that Bonfire?" she asked. "My name is Marie" she said, only flatly. "I am sorry to put you in this position, but I had no choice. Zey are after me!" she implored. "I cannot say more, zey may have this line tapped. The suitcase I left, I am sorry, but...I knew zey where coming for me, and I had to leave it there. Please, zey will be after you, too. I cannot explain more, on ze phone! Please, you must escape and bring ze bag! Please find me! I had to escape underground..." came the hurried voice. Click. The line went dead in a most suspicious manner at a most suspicious time. "Come up with your hands up! You are under arrest!" came the call of the (were they?) Police outside. "Do not attempt to move the hazardous material!"

GM Mere Seconds Later... The suitcase was filled with green. Green light, green glowing. Something metal and heavy. It did not take a quantum physicist to guess (and guess correctly) the suitcase was loaded with radioactive materials. Whooo-Whooo-Whooo-Whoooooooo! Screamed the Sirens. Through the dirty windows of the Good Spirits Bar, flashing sirens could be heard. "Police! Do not attempt to leave the building!" came the cracked voice of a loudspeaker. "We have reason to believe there is hazardous material!" This was a fair point, and an accurate one. Whatever police were outside were not equipped with radiation suits, it seemed, for they were not most keen to enter. The phone on the bar rang loudly, cutting through the ominous silence in the now empty bar. It was a curious antique, all dust and clunky handle, but it made a hell of a noise.

GM "Heat, why...no..." said the bartender, before doubling over and vomiting all over the bar. "I'm...sorry...I don't know what...." he gurgled, unpleasantly, sliding to his knees. The barfly slumped further, falling straight on his back and entering into a tonic seizure. He convulsed, foaming at the mouth. There was blood in the foam. "Oh...she left something..." whimpered the Bartender, pointing to an innocuous leather suitcase on the floor, a few feet from Bonfire. "I wonder what it...is...." he whispered, before choking and falling down unconscious too.

Bonfire notices the temperature of the bar is unnaturally hot - not dangerously so, but certainly a few degrees above what would be expected.

Bonfire can make a medicine or life sciences roll, DC 20 (trained only) if he wishes / is able. Also throw me a notice roll.

"Yuh...Yuh...Shure...." said the short, emaciated bartender, wiping his combover. He looked like a drunk. The reason he looked a drunk was pretty obvious. He sloshed over a large glass of Whiskey. It looked liked Whiskey anyway. You could probably use it as an industrial grade detergent. "Yer Bonfire...that superhero...flame head...thing" he said, swaying slightly. "Mah kid thinks you are hot" he said, looking sicker by the second. "Some lady saw you outside...." he said, looking around the bar in a daze. "Dunno where she gone though..." He keeled over, wiped some vomitus from his mouth. "Pardon me, Mr Bonfire...Not feeling so good...."

OOC thread for this. Nuclear materials, Fallout, Police problems, and REVENGE! What should one do with power?

GM 17th April, Afternoon Freedom City A no-good part of town... The "Good spirits" was not good but it did serve spirits. In a down trodden street in a down trodden block, the Good Spirits barely broke even, was hardly frequented, and looked like it might collapse if one stared at it too hard. It was, however, an excellent place to refuel for Bonfire after a rather tricky morning smoking out some members of the gang that called itself, pleasantly "The Throat Cutters". The hostage situation was difficult and Bonfire had spent a good deal of energy shifting smoke and fumes around their grotty little hideout, picking them off carefully and saving the hostages. Hurrah, hurrah, and thrice hurrah for Bonfire! Came the call of the rescued. One particularly lady of particularly blonde disposition (both literally and figuratively) had given the Superhero a wink, a wiggle, and attempted to press her number into his hand. But now, it was time to refuel. In a bar with a bartender that looked half dead, and a drunken barfly who looked worse. Their skin was blotched, sweaty, and pale. One wondered if the bartender could stay upright. One would be pretty sure the barfly could not, the way he was slumped.

OOC for this Spies, Cyberintermaweb, Barbados, Fish Factories, Love, Loyalty and stuff.

GM Lincoln 18th April, Mid Afternoon The small apartment of Mr Dwayne Dee, Esq was a riot. In that it looked like a riot had stormed through it. Unwashed clothes, pizza boxes, and microwave meals peppered the floor like an abstract painting. Wires and electronics and computers without any discernible organisation lay on DIY furniture. These were the friends and loves of Mr Dwayne Dee, Esq. But right now, Mr Dwayne Dee had found “the one”. And he was most excited about it. So excited, in fact, he had elected to call his sister about it. “Sis, sis! I have met someone! On the internet! She really understands me! I think it’s love!” He paused to wobble off some meaningless computer jargon, his head spinning from the electronics around him. “You have to come over! HEEELLLLP!” he wailed, lost in this novel situation and equally novel emotions. Dwayne was overcome with excitement and anxiety, to torturous level.