Supercape

"What? What happened? I can't see nuthin!" complained the Mess, swinging his fists uselessly left and right. For a moment, he stopped swinging. It happened, in street fights, sometimes, blood or grit in your eyes. you couldn't see anything, but you just fought on, on instinct. Sensing your opponent through your guts and your hearing. Just gotta stop. Slow down a second. Listen. The faint noises, the shuffling and scraping of feat. Then, reach out, blindly but not wildly. Reaching out with purpose. And that purpose was lefty grabbing out, and righty balling up, knuckles cracking, and pulling back...to sock it to the darkness...

GM The Huntsman struggled, writhing, twisting, turning. He was no stranger to rough and tumble, and was a strong man. But Skaere was stronger. As strong as any man, and a lot stronger than her prey. His excellent quality linen hunting suit scrunched and tore, a sad sight for any tailor. It felt splendid, and even smelled splendid to the canine nose of Skaere. "Strong little beast are you not? I say, a strong one. I have wrestles alligators and bears, and I dare say you have the strength and ferocity of either of them, or both together!" he grunted, as he strained valiantly and impotently against Skaers grip.

Which means Skaere is up again!

GM The kids were less than forthcoming were they lived. Fingers on the ends of arms pointed south, vaguely, away from the Nile. One could only presume that it was in a less than wealthy part of the country; and given the political, theological, and economic crisis of the country, that was rather stiff competition. "<We just come here to play. Nobody else comes here>" explained the kids. Although it was probably a thrill, a dare, an excitement. Nobody came round here because of the stories of the Crocodile King.

GM Agent Kawena arrived home and wiped his brow. He dropped his keys to the door from the fumbling. "Hi, I'm home!" he called out to his wife and daughter, and proceeded to flop to the sofa, kicking off his shoe and loosening his tie. Why is this tie so tight...I can't breathe...he swore at himself, knowing, in his heart, he was anxious, palpitating. Agent Henry Hand..gone rogue...he was always a loose canon, always self interested...but...now? And with all he knows? This won't end well... "How is everyone? He asked, forcing himself to relax without any success...." Outside... A jet black car pulled up, with no number plate. A tainted window slid downwards, revealing the face of Henry Hand. A grizzled, square face, hair cut short, lean like his body. A few scars criss crossed his skin, and dark glasses covered his eyes. He was wearing standard AEGIS gear, with gun and armoured suit. He gave a grin. "Sorry buddy, but you are my ticket to greater things..." he said, and not without regret. Whatever regret there was, it was tempered into a harder determination.

GM "None" replied the rat, coldly. "I care nothing for the lives of innocents, not one atom" its said, frankly. "But in this matter, be not concerned. If I care not for the lives of innocents, this does not mean I will harm them, or indeed will save them. I am a force of nature, sometimes benign, sometimes malign, but never concerned. I might be the storm that destroys, or the rain that nurtures" it said. "You, on the other hand, are free to be concerned as you will. Free to impose your fate on them, if you wish. Every crack and noose of the tunnels will be yours, a hobo, a drunkard, a maintenance guy...you can feed freely, and to your whim, and melt away, or not...but you will have strength to determine your fate..." "As for my feast, I am a patient one. I need not sate myself today, or this month, or even this year. There is there is who have walked the earth, there is the who has tormented me, or there is the seeped in the blood of demons. There are many more..." it sang in a cold strange voice. "If you swear to feed me, then I swear the tunnels and sewers of Freedom City are yours, to skulk in, to feed in...and that the fate of Daybreak and the Firecracker he uses are yours to decide. I will not decide it for you, although if I was you I would drain them to husks..." it smiled.

That is entirely up to you! (and the flow of HP!)

OOC for thread. Stronghold and Argonaut deal with a rogue agent. Note: Due to the nature of the thread, a number of AEGIS devices and support will be available to both Argonaut and Strongholds father. This may require a diplomacy roll for more dangerous and extravagent support, so feel free to make those rolls if you request anything in character. The DC would range from 0 (equipment, files, general information or expertise), to 10 (Getting agents to support you, exotic equipment, support from other agencies) to 20 (restricted files, devices such as MAX armour), although that is just a guideline!

GM Monday, October 20th... AEGIS Headquaters, Federal Building, Downtown... Agent Kawene left AEGIS in a nervous state, dressed innocently in a non descript suit and nondescript tie, but perspiring more than he should now the heat had left the city with the fall. He had a look, that could not be concealed, of concern. He tried to put it out of his mind, tried to think of his family, and his daughter who would be visiting. But his concerned lined his face and could not be ironed out. Hailing a cab, he made his way back home, drumming his suitcase... As the Cab headed home... Agent Huggit was briefing Argonaut deep below the Federal building of AEGIS, and was just as concerned. "The man's name is Henry Hand. Ex military, joined AEGIS a year ago. Not the best agent, but not the worst. We had some..concerns...about his psychological profile. Impulsive, poor empathy, thrill seeking. Still, an effective man" Huggit was an older man, grey haired, thin, a face of experience and caution. Whilst concerned, he had weathered worse in AEGIS. He had seen more crisis that most men had had hot dinners. "He was exposed to a Daka Booster. We don't know where the technology came from, and where it came from...thats a story for another time and a higher clearance level. A device that extracts the energy from Daka crystals in fast and unpredictable ways. It bends space, bends dimensions. And, it seems, had bent Agent Hand..." "Hand has since been acquiring a multitude of devices. We need to stop him, before he gets his hands on anything truly dangerous..." He flicked through to the file on Agent Kawena. "And here is our bait. Agent Kawena. He knew Agent Hand, was even friendly with him. And we have arranged for Agent Kawena to look after our special items. We hope Hand will make his move on his friend. And we hope you can be around to stop him. And protect Agent Kawena..."

GM "Always the soul, the soul. Why would I be interested in your soul. I don't even know what a soul is..." said the rat calmly. "What do you take demons for? The mythologies and theologies of Man, half forgotten legends, echoes of truths...whatever you think a demon is, that is what it isn't" said the Rat, cryptically, scuttling up to Bloodline to take a closer look at him. "I don't want your Soul. I want power, I want to escape this form. When I say I care not who gets crushed in my path, do not think I wish to crush. Rather, that it matters to me not one way or other if the crushing occurs. I do not care..." "I wish to eat other demons and grow stronger. Is that something you abhor? Is it such a price? In return, I will give you these sewers. The boy, Filth, is easy manipulated and I am not without my means. Blood, I can give you. Solace, I can give you..." "All you have to do is feed me demons..."

GM "...who is this?" answered the radio after a slight and considered pause. The woman's voice was equally measured, any panic or confusion she may have been experiences was ironed out in her voice. "...you presumably have eliminated, one way or another, the men sent to the institute. Whilst they may indeed have been lacking wit, they were trained soldiers. And it seems you have...removed them...without hesitation and with great efficiency..." There was another pause. "Which is most interesting. Please, meet me in the Van outside the institute...." "Aid may well be needed..."

GM The Captain rushed in, panting from exertion, a small blaster pistol in his hand. He was more a steward than a soldier, but still...decompression was a serious business. "What happened? What happened?" Alarms were still ringing, audible now, with the pressure restored. The engine room was clearly damage. An acrid smoke poured to the new air, slowly poisoning it. A few small flame licked the engines, now that oxygen allowed combustion. "We have lost power, then a decompression....we can barely maintain orbit....our pilot thinks we will go down....we have sent a distress signal...." he panted, breathlessly.

Cool, I guess wrap and lock the thread there?

GM A little bit later... Mother Unit peeled away the primitive lock on Mr. Swish's phone. It did not take long. The difficulty was the large large number of vague contacts he had. "Foxy Chick" was probably not what Ms Grue was looking for. Nor was "Princess" or "Drunkard". But the list was long, long, long. What she was probably looking for was "Hound Handler". A number that looked like, with a bit of research, was a number close to or in the mansion of Al Driogano the notorious and shady mobster who ran the Southside Palace from which Ms Grue had dragged Mr. Swish. The chemicals were another problem. As far as Ms. Grue could tell, it was a virally derived toxin of some sort, which would cause mutation and eventually death. A bit like burning up all your life in a few weeks.

Yes please :)

The Rat kept fighting down the visions of what she might mutate into, and every single bodily sensation seemed to indicate some ghastly tumour. It was an effort to stay calm. "No, I didn't really think it through, Mister. When I see a bunch of weapons grade plutonium or whatever it is, just lying around frying my body with radiation...well, I panicked..." she confessed. "I really am open to ideas. You look like a big strong guy, maybe you could haul it out?" she asked.

Freddy shook his head left and right, as Catseye bounced around the warehouse and the thugs assailing him circled him. The stiffs battering him he could handle in a heartbeat - but he was more worried about that dancing Cat woman and Machine Fist. "Yeah yeah...my Daddy taught me real good, lady. Just that I didn't learned so good!" he grinned, smacking the side of his head with one mace like fist. With a hop, skip, and run, he charged into Machine Fist, swinging widely...

Ok so as he doesnt feel like hitting a dame, he will move to Machine Fist and take a swing: Unshifted. 1d20+10=13 will be, I presume, a miss!

GM "<The Croc King lives in there>" said the upright child, pointing to the rusted Iron door that sealed the Concrete lump that was the old cold war base. "<Except...he is not always in there>" said one of the tangled up kids on the ground. The first child, who was probably the oldest and probably the bravest and probably the wisest of the three, nodded, confidence growing. "<Everyone thinks this is just made up stories. But we have seen him, at night, swimming in the Nile. There is another way in...under the water...>" he suggested, pointing at the Nile itself and its still waters. "<Sometimes, we see men go in and out of the door, too!>" yelled the smallest kid on the ground, excited. On closer inspection, the rusted door, while irrefutably rusted, and irrefutably iron, did show some signs of being used. There was no apparent way in, but it could be opened from the inside, presumably. "<They give a special knock...>" suggested the last child, clapping out a rhythm of five beats.

Starshot walked in, neither slowly or with haste, taking time to look at all the most peculiar and interesting junk and bric a brac that lined every available service, or, in one case, just hung in the air, wobbling slightly. "Uloc? Fariar Uloc?" he called out, brushing aside some beads that hung from the ceiling. He kept half an eye on Balus. They were here, but they did not know what they were here for. "We coming looking to buy" he called out, before turning his head to Balus. "Time to lay the cards on the table" he said to the servant.

Yup, that bonus is still in effect so lungs are still alive!

Do you want to post getting shocked, or move on?

GM Blood convulsed in pain, the low pressure torturing her body. Grunt, in his armour, marched to the interior door. He was not fast, but he was strong. A strength born of a race adapted to a hugely high gravity world, and his own will to exert it. He gritted his canines, and almost wrenched the door off its hinges, his squat body explosively straining against the metal and plastic. A rush of air, real air, hit the three bounty hunters once more, a blast of sweet sweet oxygen. Blood was weeping blood, and then turned over to emit a huge wracking cough of blood, her lung tissue ripped from the expanding air she had been holding on to. "Gaaah! It hurts!" she moaned, clutching herself in pain, rolling left and right.

Ok that works, you are now in a sealed environment. Grunt is going to manually open the engine room bulkhead (which I shall say he can do due to High G super strength!) Air comes rushing in, but lets give one more Fort Save from the vaccuum before we resume normal atmosphere! Could you throw me a last Fort Save. 1d20+6=8 Blood fails, and coughs up blood! She has -1 CON damage.

GM The three children looked up as the Van pulled to a halt, and stoped throwing mud and water at each other. They looked vaguely malnourished, possibly beggars or orphans. They also looked a little scared. "<Who are you? We are just playing...>" said one tentatively, nervous. The other two tried to hide behind each other, effectively doing a little dance to see who would win that fruitless contest. "<Nobody comes here! This is Crocodile kingdom!>" blurted the first nervous child. "<He is king of the Nile!>" added one of the children who had fallen over in a tangled heap with the other one as they danced to get behind of each other.