Supercape

So I dont know how this would work, but Axel is going to try and nick some of those ER clothes things and pretend to be an orderly!

Axel ground his teeth and clenched his fists. Damn this all. He wasn't a man to back down. He could have happily thrown a few punches and ended up in the slammer or worse. But, this was a fight he couldn't win. He could kick some pansy orderllies backside. But there would be more. Then the police. Then SWAT. "Yeah, right. You go on believing the man got yer back, sucker" he said furiously. "I'm out of here" He stomped out of the building, but had no intention of leaving Carmen in the lurch with whatever demonic trouble she had got herself in to. It had been a while since he broke the law. Nothing serious, a few fights, a few speeding tickets, possession of firearm, robbery...well, some had been a bit serious, but that had been decades ago as a young man. He scouted round the back of the Hospital, trying to find some way in. Hospitals had several entrances and exits, if you knew where to look. And they were big too. Easy to stay anonymous. The Orderly had busted his ass, but had also given him an idea. He just needed to find some of those blue orderly surgical clothe things...

Not a major threat, but still. Sniper attack! 1d20+7=8, 1d20+7=10 even with aim, they miss miss miss! Notice Roll please DC 15 to recognise that there are two snipers. DC 25 To pinpoint them on the rooftops over the street, in opposite directions, each about 50' away (and 20' up).

GM "What the devil are you doing?" demanded Zaki as Erick tackled him. Thick Egyptian coffee went flying, ruining Zaki's suit and Ericks threads together. The Dry Cleaning Bill would be considerable. Crack! The sniper bullet was silenced, but even so - Erick was ready for the sound, and Erick heard it. The Coffee jar on the table went flying, a neat hole right through it, ejecting coffee in a spiral as it tumbled to the wall. Zaki put two and two together fast. "A Sniper? But...how? Who could have known?" he gasped, his heart racing. They where hardly out of danger yet. The Sniper was still active, presumably (from the angle of the shot) on the Rooftop somewhere. Crack Crack...two more bullets.

GM "mmm...yes I could have asked. But then, you would have said no, as I intend to drain you for every last drop of Geckojuice. Mere science is limited! It is to mysticism we must turn! The powers of the invisible, like the Jinn and the Angel. To extract your ichor in its full potency, is to kill you. Why would you complain? A Gecko is a pest, a vermin. It fanned the flames that burned Abraham, and It should be killed" he said, more calmly now. He turned to see the blood flow from needle, through tubes, and into bubbling pots. It looked like it was being fermented with various chemicals and catalysts. "Excellent, excellent! You should be fully drained and quite dead within the hour! Now, you will excuse me, I must collect my dear daughter from Trinity hospital. You see, the ignorant infidel doctors believe that western medicine alone is keeping her alive. They seek to poison her with their concoctions and sedatives. No! Not for my daughter, dear Sofia. She will live and breathe deeper than any daughter known to man!" he said triumphantly. "So I must bid you farewell, dear Mr. Geckoman. Do try and be dead when I return!" he said, flipping his lab coat as he spun, and exited the room.

GM Zaki took a long sip of his coffee, without meeting eye contact. "Unfortunately, I am an historian, not a spy" he explained, gazing at the bright sky. "Which means I know the past, not the present. Still, history is the road to the future, is it not?" he asked, softly. "Truth is, I do not even know if my country has any more of the cursed virus. Even if it has, does my country know of it, or has it been lost in the to and fro of government over the last decades?" he asked. "But perhaps I can give you clues. Perhaps I can point you in the right direction" he smiled softly, turning his attention back to the two heroes and enjoying another sip of tar. Just then... Erick had one of his visions. A snap of rifle fire, and Professor Zaki's chest flowering with blood. A clean shot, through the heart, just where he was sitting.

Better do just that. Kinda... The best deception is always the truth. The best truth is always a deception. "Fine. You got me. I am a Russian spy who happens to know where a whole stack of radioactive weapons grade materials are kept. And I want to get rid of it. And, incidentally, I am risking my life, or worse, by even talking to you right now, so give me a little slack, huh?" she whispered back. She could only hope he wasn't wired or something. Or, for that matter, his girlfriend was. Or maybe his girlfriend was being paid to keep tabs on him. What an awful menagerie of terrible possibilities. Still, better be paranoid than dead, as the Spies motto went. She raised one eyebrow and studied Amir waiting for his reply. She had laid it on the table. Now he had to respond.

GM "Haha! Yes, Mr. Gecko! Your petty taunts will not save you now, though! I am in tune with the hidden forces of the universe. My eyes are open! Open!" he cackled. "I would not be cruel to you. No, but I must save my daughter. You are in no position to jest, green one. Do you have children? Do you have love? Or are you but a child yourself? Yes...I see that you are. Young, unwise, inexperienced. Aflush with the mad fires of youth! Yet to learn that the mad fires are neither brighter, nor hotter!" "And now! Let the extraction process begin!" he said, finally interrupting his chaotic rambling speech. And it was chaotic, and it was rambling. To needles appeared on the bed, and inserted themselves into Geckoman's veins. "Excellent, excellent!" laughed the man. "And, pardon my rudeness. You are called Mr. Geckoman. I am called Dr Tonic!" he said, bowing deeply.

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As we have a pause, Boosting the Motorcycle to STR 30 and Speed 7, for the power!

"Now that's a new one" said Pitch as she contemplated the barrier. "Not that I ever did care much for road blocks and so on" she said, her bike pulled to a stop but the engine revving in anticipation. "And those so called speed bumps are a joke. If anything, they make you go slower" "If that car came down, I am guessing we can go up. That's just a mad guess though. Buckle up, Dorothy, its time to hit the road, and pray the road don't hit us back harder..." she determined, gritting her teeth. "Way I see it, we come this far, no damn fake road closed sign is going to stop us now, huh, I am right? or am I right!" she yelled to the wind and the rock and the river, before revving the engine once more, as infernal fuel powered into the Vehicle, infusing it with smoke and fire and power. And then, she sped towards the barrier.

Axel didn't blink. He just turned, slowly. "Son, I would love to do that. Sunshine, pretty flowers, and group hugs. But ya see, I still got a pair of balls. And unlike some, I don't need a hospital scanner to see them" he said, facing down the guard. "You see, you got problems in this here hospital, Son. I came here to fix em. Problems you wouldn't understand, and wouldn't believe. You want to tag along and see I mean what I say, then you just go right ahead Son. It's not me you need to worry about, its the shadows and malice here that will turn your crap white and soil those nice clean clothes you wearin'" he grinned, with full confidence. "But if you want to shrivel up your balls even more, why don't you call security, have me escorted of the premises by someone with more balls than you, and then when the crap hits the fan this night, I'll make damn sure you stopped the only man that could have stopped it, Son" he said, calmly, and meaning every word. "Look me in the eye and tell me nothing funky is going on with John Perdition and Carmen Cantos. Look me in the eye and believe it, and then wonder how you coulda been so blind when all hell breaks loose" he said, before leaning and whispering. "And I when I say all hell breaks loose, Son, I don't mean it figuratively..."

GM "Haha! You are funny, Mr. Gecko! Yes, you have the big mouth of a Gecko as well! Do you expect me to talk? Do you expect me to go on and on about my plans? To describe in detail how I wish to extract your regenerative powers? How I wish to save myself and my daughter fro]m our most unfortunate genetic disease? Perhaps you wish to know how I have studied both Arabian mysticism and Western Medicine, and have reached an enlightenment?" he laughed, hysterically. "Perhaps you would hear me talk about how they called me mad! How they laughed at me! How they said I was insane, tried to drug me with antipsychotics? Would you try to get that out of me too? Hahaha!" "No, you won't fool me, Mr. Gecko. I wont talk about how I summoned a Jinn when in a mystic trance. How this vision told me the path to save my daughter and I. You won't get any such prized information from me, because I am smarter than you...." he said, pushing his leering face right up to Geckomans. "Do you expect me to talk? No! I expect you to die, Mr. Geckoman!"

GM "Huh. Married already" said Cord, his voice growing fainter. "Got a kid too" he added. He was growing cold, and fading. "Guess it really is beautiful up here. I enjoyed the snow, the land, you know. Never really looked at it before. Guess there are worse places to die. Guess there are worse ways to die, too" he smiled at Blue Jay. "Just don't end up like me, kid. Or do. Get yourself a family. Get yourself a kid. And never stop enjoying the snow" he said, eyes closing. "And tell them I love them. And...I said something smart for my last words..." And then he was gone. They arrived, but it was too late. Cord was gone. The ambulance helicopter did their best, but sometimes, they don't come back. Blue Jay could keep the pilot and Gold warm and covered, and at least they made it till the rescue services finished. There followed a beaurocratic and political frenzy as the sedated Gold was taken into custody. He posed a serious problem. A man of family and patriotism, controlled by a telepathic Russian, and possessed with the power of an Atomic Bomb. It seemed Gold had had the right idea when he went to Alaska, because isolation there was the only sensible option the Government could come up with. Blue Jay had the full on debrief by UNISON, quizzing her about the Sleeper and the mission. Bar a death and a plane crash however, they were pleased. After all, Blue Jay had essentially stopped a nuclear strike on American Soil. That deserved a medal. ~ Fin ~

GM Amanda was clearly chuffed as pie that she was helping Valerie Cane. The Valerie Cane. Her smile threatened to split her face. "Well, I'm not into all that wiccan witchcraft thing, you know. But, from the rumours, it just needs you...I mean...the microphone you...to touch the body you lost" she explained. "That's the rumour, anyway. But I don't know if its true. I am guessing it might be more complicated than that. I mean, if Necromme took your body, I don't think he is going to let go of it. At least, unless there is no better option. I mean, if you found another Descendent who is in a disgusting male body, maybe. Or if your body was, you know, about to die or something. From what I can glean about Necromme, he was a vain, self obsessed man, who was devoted to one thing only, his life. A bully and a coward, at the end of the day..."

GM One strong coffee later... Robert was yawning less, anyway. "That is the strongest, most bitter coffee I have ever tasted in my life, Grimalkin" he said wiping it off his numb lips. His coordination seemed pretty shot. "And right now, its just what I needed, even if it tasted ghastly" His eyes seemed to focus a bit better as he studied the equipment. "Well, I'm a theoretical physicist, not an engineer. I can tell you pretty much what Velocity has said. These equipment is siphoning off quantum potential energy, and countering some observational dimensional curvature. If you look at it in strictly four dimensional terms, anyway. If you look at it in M-brane perspective then..." His eyes crossed for a fraction of a second. "then you need me with a computer and a clearer head to the do the maths" he sighed. "As for all this equipment? its a wonder we haven't all eletrocuted ourselves. Do mind where you step, by the way" he added as another shower of sparks came from a floor cable. "But it looks like it is storing all the quantum event potentials in that..." he said, pointing to the monolith in the centre of the room, which had cables coming to and fro like a drunken spider web. "And somehow, the slowing effect is being countered. More than countered, maybe..."

The Red Rat Cuban Crisis The skies only had little wisps of cloud. The rest was blue and brilliant. Directly overhead, the Sun was shining proudly. Noemi Neumann was letting her hair down and roasting. She didn’t get to let her hair down much. When she did, she looked like the Red Rat. Suspiciously like the Red Rat. Put a red jacket and some spandex on her, and she was the Red Rat. So most of the time she had her up in a bun or a in a pony tail, with some fake glasses. That did the trick. But she needed a break now and again. A break from the City. A break from rude rides, beeping horns, and drunkards straddling across the road in front of her taxi. Sometimes driving around Freedom City was more stressful than planting a bug on a North Korean Army General. The comparison was one she could actually make. Her skin was turning a golden brown. Possibly a fiery red, too. Her Slavic genes were not the worst choice in a blazing sun, but were far from perfect either. She didn’t get sunburn from watching a firework display like a red headed Celt, but still. Sure, she could push her body to adapt. But what would happen? She could grow fur, grow scales, or turn purple. And there were plenty more wild mutations she could have, too. And besides, she liked roasting and going a delicious bronze. “Anything to drink, ma’am? On the house, of course†The man was the head of the hotel, smartly dressed, wearing a bow tie, and anxious to please. “Not right now, Pedro. Maybe later†she answered, turning on to her front to speak to him. Her body was indeed a golden brown, with a cheap green bikini. She was ripe with muscles too, her physique normally covered was now revealed to be strong and ripped. And also, with several big bruises, and a black eye. “Of course, Madam†bowed Pedro, embarrassed beyond words. So how had the Red Rat ended up thusly? Rewind one week. After another stand up shouting match with “Big Easyâ€, the owner of EZ Cabs, and her boss, she needed a break. Otherwise she would break herself, or, more likely, break Big Easy’s neck. She didn’t have much money, but she did have a couple of dozen high quality false passports and a few contacts around the world. Like Cuba! Carlos Cruz was a Cuban. He also used to be a KGB plant that Noemi had used a few times. He was a friendly, gregarious, and generous man, despite the insanity of the Cold War and the spying game. “Of course! Come stay at the hotel! On me!†he laughed when Noemi phoned him up. The Hotel Castro, one of a thousand named after the man himself, was a crumbling badly maintained building with bad electrics and bad waterworks, located by a beautiful sea. It did a fairly good trade, and Pedro, who ran it, had an easy charm. Of course, it was a calculated risk, making contact with Carlos. She was a wanted woman, after all. In retrospect, it was a risk that she did not calculate. She had spent five sunny days, free of charge, sunning herself and catching up with Carlos, laughing, joking drinking with him and his voluptuous middle aged wife, who was equally entertaining and charming. Sure, they caught up on the old days. Carlos was still a communist, but he liked cigars and fine wines and was a pragmatist. He joked with her about how she was living in the land of corruption. She joked he was an idealistic dinosaur. They both joked about how they agreed with each other, and then they drank some more. Carlos didn’t deal with the KGB anymore, but he still was known to them, and to the Cuban government too. He had spilled all the beans he could spill, and now hardly dealt with them at all, bar the odd arrangement for spies to use his hotel. It was not Carlos who betrayed her. It was a deep cover Russian spy who stayed there. Going by the name of Ana, she portrayed herself as being an artist. She hadn’t done any art, though. Her art was of a different kind. Noemi had drunk her vodka, and taken a shower. She shook her head, feeling tired, weary. Then her vision blurred. She shook her head again, and, realisation dawning, looked at the Vodka bottle. There was thin fizzing film on its top, barely perceptible. She had been drugged. Her first thought was Carlos. He had sold her out, for money no doubt. Whom to? The Russians? The Cubans? UNISON? Who knew? She staggered out of the bathroom with her bathrobe on, using both hands to steady herself, and she saw Ana in her room, gun in hand, and shocked to see her target still conscious. There was no time for words. Ana and Noemi were both trained agents. The gun was pointed, and slapped away. It was re-aimed, and slapped away again. A kick to the legs took Neomi’s legs from her as she grabbed the wrist that held the gun, the two women rolled to the floor. Neomi wrapped her legs around the arm, spinning the gun away, and trying to turn the roll into an armbar. Another day, she would have. Noemi was in superb shape, stronger than she had any right to be, even with her physique. Her reflexes were sharper than a snakes. But she was drugged, clumsy. Her limbs didn’t obey her, got tangled up in themselves. A few kicks, blocks, and an elbow came crashing into her knee, another few punches, in her chest. A kick in the ass. She could take a lot, but she was being given a lot. Everything felt slow, sluggish. Fortunately, and mercifully, the drug had numbed the pain too. A few scrabbling blocks on the floor. Ana tried to rise, but Neomi rolled to her leg, and took her down again. This time, she forgot about the pain. Ana fist crunched into her eye, but she rode through it, her knee pinning the other woman’s arm to the floor, then turning, twisting, taking blow and blow to her body before capturing the other woman in a complicated chokehold. And then she held. Ana scrabbled, but could not break free. Her limbs jerked, and she lost consciousness. Panting and dizzy, Noemi flopped to the bed and crawled to the phone, trying to dial the number of Pedro. It took three attempts to get it right. She wasn’t sure if she had passed out, dozed, or just rested her eyes by the time Pedro came in. Another risk, but she guessed this was not Pedro’s work. Pedro would have had the decency to do it himself. “What is this? Some kind of James Bond assassination like in the movies?†he groaned. “Where is her pointy shoe? You know, the click click thing?†he asked, examining her perfectly normal footwhere. “Always the joker, Pedro. Tell me you didn’t sell me out†she said, her eye swollen. “You, never? I am too old and too fat and too drunk to sell anybody out†he laughed, pulling Ana up. He brought out a small injection, flipped the lid and pushed it into her thigh. “Let her have a taste of her own medicine, yes? Cuban special. Nothing to kill her. Just make her sleep it off for the next day or two†Neomi laughed. “Sure, sure. I don’t want this to spoil my Vacation, after all!â€

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GM Analysis: Woman with Bow is Expert Archer You think? The Red Rat could normally ignore the constant text Slave flashed in front of her eyes. But sometimes the sheer lunacy of it was undeniable. "Good thinking, Robin!" she smiled at Blue Jay. "I am the Red Rat, by the way! Superspy! New in town, but not new!" she quipped, giving a half turn and a point to the Red Rat Motif on the back of her jacket. "I guess Ill take the Lawyer then. I guess he has an office? Something we might, you know, accidentally fall into by accident, and maybe accidentally trip onto his computer and accidentally turn it on, and accidentally press the keys on his keyboard to accidentally find out what he is doing?" she asked their employer. "Give me an address, and I'm in!"

GM The sound was muffled, but of course Grimalkin was easily able to look "inside" the crate. The crate was, after all, her, in a fashion. The Duke was pacing up and down, and inspecting both his crossbow and his bolt. And, again, stroking his sideburns. "There is only one of me, my dear. Of that I am fairly certain. If there were more of me, I would be most displeased! After all, we are all individual pretty snowflakes, are we not? I consider myself an exceptionally rich and sparkly snowflake, yes I do. And I would imagine you consider yourself so, too. In most cases I would put that down to the won'drously deluded self centred nature of man, who perceives the universe as his skin. But I dare say in the case of you and me, our little snowflakes are particularly floral, no?" he chuckled to himself. "Be seeing you later!" he finished, before collapsing in a heap, fast asleep.

GM Some time later... But how much time? How long? HOW LONG? Geckoman still had his costume and mask on. His Identity was a least safe. Being strapped to a medical bed in thick reinforced plastic bands didn't feel that safe though. He could not move his arms or legs. And his utility belt was absent from his waist. His blurred vision started to clear, and his ears started to work. His nose also, a variety of chemical smells hitting that superior organ - disinfectants, antibiotics, drugs of every type and flavour. Other smells too, like burning incense. Leaning over him was a broad faced man with bright eyes. He had a short beard and messy hair. To guess at his ethnicity would be tough, maybe southern European or Middle Eastern. "Ah! The Gecko awakes! Excellent! Excellent! I had to use an especially powerful tranquiliser for you, I feared for a moment that you would suffer respiratory depression. But it seems you have a liver proportional to the size of a Gecko, too? Haha! Is that what they say, yes?" he said, with the faintest of an eccent. He was dressed in a slightly dirty lab coat, and had a loose tie around him. He was big, too. At least six foot, and broad shoulders, his lab coat hiding arms that were as thick as tree trunks. It was a little hard to tell if the man was fat, strong, or both. The surroundings looked like a living room packed with medical equipment, journals, books, all verging on the disorganised. Geckoman, if craning his neck, could spy other things too, pictures and books on medieval alchemy and mysticism, much of it with an Arabic flavour.

You are fairly sure the guy speaking to you is hallucinating.

The Chevvy busted, Harry scuttled on foot to Strand and Revenant. Not too close, though. He picked up a trashcan lid as a shield and cowered behind it as he approached. "Yeah, no fighty, no problemo!" he said, peeking his eyes above the rin of the trash can. "I'm not a fighter anyway. More of a lover. Well, more of a runner, honestly. So if you want to fight, She is much better at it that me" he explained, pointing at Revenant. "Machine fist? Sounds horrible" he muttered, conjuring up medieval injury of a giant man with fists made out of implements garnered from the Spanish Inquisition's deepest dungeon, carving his way through his internal organs. "But I am sure Revenant and the Bloody Mess can handle him!" he said defiantly, hoping this was indeed the case. "Give use the location and the time for this meeting. Then we can end this nightmare" he said, wiping the sweat from his damp h air and forehead. "And there is this really important place in the Fens. Does a lot of private detective work for the poor. Takes on charity cases, vital community work. Very charitable, very worthwhile. I am sure they could do with a donation, too. Have you got a pen and paper? Its called the Bloodhouse detective agency, account number...."

Hound is just following the action in the car at street level, so I guess better to skip his post / action unless you want something from him?

GM The Duke didn't know what hit him. Nothing hit him, physically, but a wooden Crate assembling itself around him in the blink of an eye hit him psychologically. His voice was muffled now, coming through wood and the few small air holes. "Creature! What spellcraft is this? Hmmm. I am no sorcerer or occultist, pixie, but I can see this with my own eyes. Touch it with my own hands. Wonderful! Wonderful!" he said, in an almost sing song voice. "I would not have you hate my Homeland, pixie. It is a place of richness and serenity. If you must hate, hate me! I do what I must to survive, and whilst I know this is selfish, I would not be cruel or hateful in this. Whilst you stand in my way, you are marvellous, and I will marvel at you, for my capacity to relish and behold is what drives me to live so furiously!" he said, as an eye appeared in one of the hold. "I behold you! So now, Pixie, what will you do? And why will you do it? I need the speed of your friend. Not much, but then, as you can see from my waistline, I have a tendency to take more than I need!"