Supercape

GM "You can ask son, but an answer is another thing" said Gomez bluntly. "You have to understand, this is a matter of national security. Why I don't you trust a group of marines on this exhibition? Well, the same reason they don't trust you" he explained. "I'll be blunt, soldier" he said to Myrmidon. "This is a military exercise, and it will need military observers. You guys, good as you are, with all the exceptional abilities you have, are not military. Not even human in some cases. Which means trust is relative. Which means procedures must be followed" He was polite about it, but firm. "I don't call the shots here. The procedure is military operations need military presence. I can break procedure, sure, but honestly, I don't see why I should, and I need a very convincing argument to break protocol. An argument I don't have. So if you feel you are being spied on, sure you are being spied on. But these boys ain't gonna be firing torpedoes at you, I can assure you" he said, frankly.

Noemi was impressed with the car, at least. Safe house must not be compromised to non approved individuals! "So, here we are" said Noemi to Amir and Bunns. "This is my hang out. By which I mean, Cold War Soviet spy base now serving as my secret Liar" she said, looking at the two of them closely. "My name is the Red Rat. I used to be a Soviet Spy for the last fifty years. Then, somebody woke me up and I work for myself now. By which I mean, I'm one of the good guys". She undid her hair to let if fall down. The Red Rat was hardly well known in the city, but if they had ever seen her, it would ring a bell. "I think its safe in here. But, two things. If I go blind, don't worry. Too much..." she said, crossing her fingers. If Slave really did dissaprove he would cut the signals from her eyes, or at least censor it. "And secondly, radiation and me have a really bad history. So lets just hope I don't mutate into a pool of acidic green slime, huh?" she said, getting out of the car.

So forgot to post this, sorry. The restraints are a DC 25 Escape Artist to get out of . Of course you may want other tricks! Taking 20 is entirely possible but there is a clock / time element to this, as Dr Tonic is on his way to hospital.

GM Captain Gomez fielded the questions one by one. "We do have a fix. Sort of" he said, almost apologetic. "Its directly below us. But the seismic activity is erratic. What we have done is plot the disturbances..." he explained, pointing to a sea chart where all the activity had been recorded. It was like a spider web. "And we are at the epicentre..." he finished, pointing with a neat and slick collapsible baton. "As for hazards, your guess is as good as mine. Down there, it is cold, it is dark, and the water pressure will collapse any regular submarine..." "Any regular submarine that is" he said, with a touch of pride. "The US Navy has developed some cutting edge Super High Intensive Transports" he explained. "We didn't like the acronym, so we call them the Sinkers". A few minutes later... The Sinkers were like spheres of reinforced cutting edge alloys, each able to hold six marines, powered by integrated motors. "Not fast, but mobile and tough" he explained. "Armed with high explosive torpedoes too. Still in the development phase, but the Sinkers are totally seaworthy. I'm sending one down with you, but it will be much slower" he explained, as six fully armed marines boarded one of the strange vessels. Everyone was equipped with an underwater radio device, which could connect with the Sinker and the USS Luther. "Well folks, I wish you Godspeed and so forth. I will be on the radio from sea level. Providing of course whatever is down there doesn't jam our signals..." he said, ever cautious. "Any questions?"

GM "I fear it may be more than just a relic, as you say" said a concerned Zaki. "But also, I fear it may be more than the Cold War at stake here. The last decades of Egypt have been filled with turmoil and political fluidity. Egypt is proud, and Nasser was proud. Allegiances may have changed, but I suspect that Egypt wished to procure the virus for itself. To experiment by itself, and to create soldiers for itself, not just for the Glorious Soviet Union. Conspiracies are like an onion, yes? You peel back one layer, you find another..." And then... Once more, Foreshadow / Erick had a vision. Further down the Nile, when the sun had set, being just a warm glaze on the horizon. There was silence, there was shadows. The gentle rock of the waters against the boat. And a hand reaching from the waters to the side of the boat. A mottled, green black and amphibian hand...

As Slave gave the Red Rat a printed feed roll on the weapon, she let out a slow sigh of relief. Who was this man? He was clearly as tough as nails, and was a professional, But a professional what? assassin, quite possibly. Spy, very possibly. Something else? No way of knowing right now, but clearly she had correctly followed her nose on him. She crept forward, wondering where to go. What she needed was a personal computer, something Slave could hack into. Upstairs or downstairs? She couldn't know for sure. First things first though...she started to creep around the house, using her X Ray vision to scan the building. Hopefully, somewhere, she could find a computer...

And the Duke Fires once more: 1d20+15=34 ouch! That is unfortunately a critical. Meaning a DC 23 Toughness save and a DC 20 Fort Save for the Poison.

GM "Oh my dear, I don't mean to scare you!" smiled the Duke. "You are a work of art, after all. No no, quite too beautiful to scare" replied the Duke, pulling the car to a complete stop and stepping out of the vehicle. "I have plenty of ideas what I am doing" he bowed. "I have spent years doing what I do. I am only forced to such regrettable acts as today out of necessity. I am slowing down, and I want to speed up" he explained. "Your friend in my Castle, my guest, is doing an admirable job powering me up again. Every time she moves, she feeds me" he smiled jauntily. "But I find myself unsatisfied with a merely regular speed. No! I can taste it, and I want more. More!" he said, raising his hands to the heavens and pointing the crossbow once more at Grimalkin. "So please don't get in the way" he explained, firing again.

GM Later...on a nile cruise... It was undeniably beautiful. The setting sun over the Nile. Zaki had insisted on hiring a boat. Somewhere inbetween a large speedboat and a small yacht, it moved slowly down a slow river, motoring quietly. The boat had essentially a staff of two. The captain - a big burly man with the most magnificent thick black moustache anyone had seen, juxtaposed with a bald head. His grin was as wide as his moustache. And the - well, a combination of butler and cook and general steward, a short man of average build, thick black hair combed back and a thing for bow ties. He was a decent cook too, serving up an Egyptian feast of meats, vegetables and fruit for dinner, washed down with tea. The boat made good headway down the Nile, whilst Zaki started to recover his nerve. "Forgive me my friends, I am not accustomed to being shot at" he said, wiping his brow from the sweat of heat and anxiety. At least the Nile cooled the air to a most pleasant clime. "Darwin X was stored, I believe, in a military building, very hush hush, top secret thing, Several miles south of here" he explained. "The building was heavily fortified then. Now, I believe it to be abandoned. However, appearances may be deceptive. For one, it seems our interest has attracted attention...."

So I guess lets have some initiative rolls for Grimalkin and the Duke! 1d20+12=29 for the Duke! NB: If Grimalkin loses initiative, feel free to make a post for retorting!

GM The staff started to scatter in response. Some ran away from the Castle, some ran towards it. Some ran in circles, screaming. The Duke screeched the car to halt, skidding slightly and gouging more unslightly lines on the otherwise flawless grass. He leant out of the old car and spared a moment to shout at his staff, calling them traitors, turncoats and Judas. And to inform them they were fired. He then turned to Grimalkin and gave an angry speech. "You can't find the staff these days, can you, Pixie girl? Never mind, I find that my wealth allows me to buy things!" he smiled, before poking another Crossbow out of the Bentley Window. "You are moving from delightfully annoying to less delightfully annoying, my dear. But I have survived much, and I am sure I can survive you! My schemes are working wonderfully, you see! You are merely ornamental to them. Very pretty. Very pretty, but dangerous too...."

Vignette: Vacation Rene deSaens Its Vegas, Baby From the Journals of Rene De Saens Much has been said about this place of dreams. A place were dreams are born, and dreams die. A place were dreams soar, and dreams fall. The veil between dreams and reality is thin, and sometimes not present at all. If I was to be a guardian of dreams, then to Vegas I should go. It is an impossible place. A city of lights, steel and glass in the middle of a desert. It is hard to say which is more lifeless…the desert or the city. I confess the assault of sound and vision that Vegas fires at you…I can only call it obscene. Wealth without wisdom or taste. Nevertheless, I had resolved to see Vegas, and so I would, with eyes and mind open despite the bad taste they left. I paid the taxi generously, and he responded with predictable good cheer words and empty eyes. And yet, despite it all, the place has a Fever. A Delirium. Whilst the sweat and heat of disease is horror, it is also alive. Yes, a sickly life, but burning bright all the same, just as life beats and pulses faster when closer to death. Here, in Vegas, there is that same pulse. It is sickly and hot, but gloriously alive. Like a moth to a flame, I gravitated towards the biggest, the boldest, and the brightest. Caesars Palace. I had money. Wise investment and expensive art has meant I am rich. I give it away as freely as I earn it. Tonight, I determined to throw it away, although not without a ugly pang of self loathing. I felt as if I had fallen in the gutter. But as my good friend Oscar said, we are all in the gutter. Some of us look at the Stars. And stars were plentiful. Not only in the bright night sky, but artificial ones, like fireflys swaming. And stars of the human kind too, singing, dancing, entertaining. I could not resist but catch “The Grand Shazam! Master of Magic!†running at the Palace. A bold and skilled man without the faintest hint of mystic art about him. At least, without the faintest hit he used. I have known several stage magicians who were actually magicians, but only used sleight of hand and misdirection on stage. I wandered off to the tables, complaining to all who would hear me that my hips and knees ached terribly. I was offered a wheelchair by a handsome young man who would have fluttered my heart a hundred years ago. Today, I just stared at him and grunted that I could I dind’t need his damn wheelchair thank you very much, but he could lend me his arm. A very nice arm it was, too. The tables were the heart of the machine. Here, dreams formed and shattered in a moment. I could see the magic of it. I could feel the highs, feel the desperation, the excitement, the despair and the lows. All of it played out in the tumble of dice, and the turning of cards. It was hard to watch but hypnotic all the same. The sadness was terrible to behold, and yet, there is no wisdom but that which we harvest ourselves. Men and women were making castles from straw, and their stories would end in collapse. My spectacles are an elegant antiquity. Gold framed, round, the device of a nobleman decades ago, or from another century. I made them myself, or at least had hand in the lenses. A little skill and craftsman ship in glass grinding has become me. And with my hands, I could infuse glass with visions and light that is invisible. Glass that focuses the meaning of things. They serve well enough for me to read, but also to illuminate magic. And there he was, a gambler clutching a charm. He was rolling in money, cleaning up on the roulette table. His charm was around his neck, a gypsy thing perhaps, simple, but alive with the light of magic. The man was fifty, maybe, a large man, both in height and girth, with thick glasses and thinning hair and a suit that was just slightly to cheap for the place. His tie was loosened. His grin was broad. “Must be my lucky charm!†he laughed, pointing to the trinket around his neck. I could not tell if he knew its power, or not. Or maybe just suspicion and hope and joy. Whatever the case, his irrefutable success on the Roulette tables was not without effect – and I refer not to the pile of chips he was amassing like a mountain. Young ladies, dressed immodestly, were aggregating around him like vultures around a carcass. And they might pick him clean to the bones. And here I thought, was a quandary. A cheat stealing from a parasite. For all the dreams that gambling generates, they are born from greed and lies. The House always wins. And yet, and yet, was that wrong? Human nature is not pure and noble. It is noble because it is impure. What place had I to interfere. Non! A man must make his own luck. A man must find his own honesty. I would not tear down the house of cards, I would not build it up. This man’s story was built on lies. Built on a trinket no doubt both boon and curse. Such things are rarely one or the other. What circumstance lead him to possess such a thing? I shall never know, but I suspect it was given as a double edged sword. To give greed its due, and to take in other ways. Now, hexes, curses and charms are not my forte. But you don’t get to live two centuries with magic and occultism without learning a thing or two. I daresay I have forgotten half I have learned over the years, but the years have been many and I still know much, if I say so myself. Which, as it happens, I do. “Ah Monsieur! What splendid fortune you have!†I smiled at him, throwing a few chips on the velvet. I had no interest in winning or losing. What I wanted was freedom for the Man and his fates. “Lady luck is sure with me tonight!†grinned the man, as a lady of half his age gripped his arm and kissed his cheek “For luck†as she so delicately put it. “She is indeed. But a blind and fickle lady she is, and without memory or foresight†I replied, to his irritation. “Is she your master, or are you hers, I wonder?†I asked, as the roulette was spun, and the steel ball bounced around on strings of probability. It was costly. Words muttered under my breath, half forgotten. I dislike such arcane ritual, for me it is the elegance of dreams, and imagination, bringing forth the floating world into the living one. But there is a time and a place for such magicks, as today. I could see in my mind’s eye the woven enchantments, black and white, yin and yang, a karma. For every drop of luck today, a river of tears later. Yes, to be rid of this artificial device, to free the man for his own fortunes, this would be liberty, painful as it might be. I am old, and my body weak now. But my mind is a tower of pure iron. Yet even that will was sapped by the effort. To force and break the charm, to shatter its enchantments, with so little time. It was performing surgery with a sledgehammer rather than a scalpel. Yet shatter it I did. And fell to the floor weak and tremulous. I am ashamed to say that this time I did indeed need a wheelchair, and the handsome young man I had met before dashed to fetch me one, and advise medical attention. I confess, at that time, I was not swayed by good looks or charm. I truly was drained of spirit, for the cost of breaching the enchantment was great, and tiring. And so I retired to a modest, no, I tell an untruth, an extravagant hotel room, and ordered the finest of wines. And lay on the softest bed I have ever slept on. But yet, I hovered between sleep and wakefulness. I was alive to the man whose luck I had broken, alive to his dreams. Alive to his fate, now his own. He was surfing the excitement, embroiled and inflamed by it. His chips on the velvet, his dreams with them. His money on the black. And I could see the ball clicking in the spun roulette. Click, click, click. I could see it slowing, now rolling instead of bouncing. The roulette coming to rest, the ball hovering between black and red. And then coming to decision. And landing on… Well, I must rest now, and write no more!

Rene pulled his robust steed to heel to observe the situation. "Damn these eyes! I could swear that the train just crashed!" he shouted at all and sundry. He aimed his steed at a slow walk towards the train, addressing the lizards. "Attention! The land of dreams is not unguarded. It is not unprotected! All stories are here, good, bad, and ferocious and meek, strong and ill! It is nobodies place to intrude on ze final liberty, a man's dreams!" he said, some passion and anger inflaming him. "What then, are you? A parasite? an infection?" he demanded, bold and unwavering. "Something is amiss. I smell it. What say you? What say you?"

Ok so opposed straight CHA rolls for who wins the Staff over. 1d20+3=9 Then, Grimalkin is getting run over! What shall she do? She has time to fly to the air, but if on the ground, will need a Reflex Roll DC 15 to avoid the Car. But if she turns small and flies, she is falling into the Dukes ploy! (and a -2 to the opposed CHA roll)

GM The staff, assembled outside the castle in the luxurious grounds muttered to themselves, someone disconcerted at the events. A pixie woman springing to full size in front of them was equally disconcerting. "<We would like to help...but...we really don't know what's going on...>" sobbed one Maid, overcome with the events. "<We always knew the Duke was...eccentric....but since you arrived the foods been drugged and the Duke too...and then we were told to take you down stairs to his laboratory...we...we don't know what to think....!>" she cried. They were interrupted by a horn beeping. Across the grounds, a magnificent Rolls Royce sped, churning up the grass and giving the grounds keeper a heart attack. Who should lean out the window? That's right. The Duke! Dressed in an elegant top hat and tails, he shook his fist at Grimalkin. "Try to crate me off would you? I suppose you would post me to England? or worse, the States! the Horror!" As his car sped towards Grimalkin, he shouted orders at the Staff. "<Do not listen to these people! They are sorcerers! Witches! Warlocks!>" he said with a jaunty smile as the Car tried to Run Grimalkin over...

Analysis: Detection Imminent! I wish you would be more, you know, useful sometimes... She should have noticed the light. She should have, but she didn't. No use crying over spilt milk. She just wished she had brought a raccoon as a back up. Gently on her feet, she scuttled to the wall of the house, and crouched low, moving as carefully as she could. At least the darkness gave her an advantage. She could see in infra-red, able to move through the shadows with relative ease. And, in a way, this could be an advantage. She grabbed a stone, ready to throw when the owner of the house came out. A distraction, maybe? With a bit of luck he would come out of the house a few steps, and she could sneak in behind him!

1d20+10=23!

GM A short while later... Zaki knew the streets of Cairo well, to their advantage. He lead them through side alleys and cramped passes, until he pointed to a Mosque. "There! We will be safe there, at least! One cannot bring Rifles into the house of God!" he said, determinedly. The Mosque itself was not big or grand, although like most Mosques in Cairo, it was elegant and had some beautiful artistry to it. The building itself was in between call to prayer and relatively quiet, with maybe a dozen or so worshippers in it. "Stay here for a while. Come, pray if you wish, to whatever Gods you hold dear, but be respectful. Foreigners are welcome, but draw attention. For now, be Muslim, or attract more attention than would be wise" he nodded, encouraging the two heroes. Inside, it was cool and pleasant and calm. A welcome atmosphere after being shot at. With women and men apart, Zaki directed his conversation to Erick. "As I was saying. I would start on the Nile itself. Heading south. The Nile is the source of life for Egypt, and whilst poetic, is also true. South, on the river, an old military base. Still guarded...but, in these days, such things are badly accounted for..."

GM The Journal was a leatherbound masterpiece, ornately crafted, smooth and creased at the same time, a tactile and visual feast. It even smelled rich and ancient. One could only guess at its age, or read the "1942" on its back cover. That in itself was interesting. Because even back in 1942, the Duke had made entries. He certainly didn't look seventy or more. At a guess, a solid forty. The entries were sparse, one a year on average, of varying length, and elegant handwriting. All of it in Dutch, and incomprehensible to either Grimalkin, Velocity or, for that matter, Robert. A few diagrams and numbers were in the Journal. If one had to speculate, there was an annotation on "time", with slowly decreasing decimal fractions of some variable.

The Red Rat crept through the darkness, gun in hand. Hopefully she wouldn't need it. But better safe than sorry, that was for sure. The dogs annoyed her - not because she wasn't a dog lover. Its because they had a knack for barking when she walked pass. "Shhh! Good dog! Good dog!" she whispered at one, putting fingers to lips. Unfortunately, the Dog did not speak English and carried on barking. "Bah! Stupid dog!" she grunted, pressing forward. She wouldn't forget her last customer for a while. It nagged and gnawed at her. He was one crazy ass tough as nails guy. And with a story or two to tell, except he didn't seem like telling it. And she didn't want to live her life not knowing what that story was. So it was a little naughty, probably even breaking the law. But it looked like her ride had snapped a few dozen laws clean in half. It was...civic duty? As quietly as she could she sneaked up to the house and peered through a window...

As I am probably going to need it, rolilng this: Stealth! 1d20+10=19

That will do! You find a locked draw on a bedside table by his four poster bed, suggestive of somewhere he would put his bedtime reading or writing. The lock is no magnificent (DC 20), and of course she could smash the table open with a flurry of fists...your call! (post away!)

GM "What are you doing, man? This is no time to pay a tip!" said a shocked but impressed Zaki as Erick dutifully paid his way. Crack Crack Crack Crack... The bullets rained freely now, shattering masonry, furniture, and in one case exploding a porcelain tea pot. But thanks to Synapse's quick thinking, the snipers had lost the bead. They fired anyway, thudding through the awning, but they were firing blind. "Yes, yes! Time to beat a hasty retreat, as the English say!" said Zaki following Erick's lead. He was a man of sixty, yet still lean and in good shape. Whilst his reflexes where slow, he was able to run. Zaki, Erick, and Dee ran into the nearest side street. It was cramped and dirty, with barely elbow room, but it was out of sniper range. Or at least was for the moment. the street was dingy and had crates, rubbish, and a hungry rat to decorate it. Not the finest site in Cairo, but not the worst either.

"Hey now, that's a neat trick!" said the Rat, leaning over the roof to see if she could find the ninja woman. Which she couldn't. "I'm gonna have to learn how to do that one day" she laughed, impressed. It genuinely was a pretty neat trick. A glimmer of suspicion hit her. The emphatic demand to not contact the Franklins was an invitation to do so. Or perhaps a cunning psychological manipulation to make them do so. Still, the Red Rat had learned to live with a Spies paranoia rather than be a slave to it. "Well, I guess we split up, or we stay together. Doesn't sound a lot like we got a lot of heat with a housewife and a lawyer" she said to Blue Jay and Revenant. "But in any case, we should stay in touch. You guys got cellphones, or something?" she asked. As for her Slave would be able to pick up and receive radio transmissions, and keep them scrambled.

On consideration I will actually lower the "spot" DC to 20, now I think about sniping rules! so yeah, you clock em.