Supercape

An IC, OOC thread!

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Pitch couldn't help a smirk at Nick's new groupie. Her mouth curled and her eyebrows bent. Even the smoke curling out of her mouth seemed to chortle in a puff. "Terra-King? Set? Man, the kid's here really must be bored, huh?" she said to herself. The words still came out though, soft, low, and smoky. In a fuller voice, she considered the situation. "Well, I guess we should take a look at the Mayor back at the Ranch, huh? See if we can make some sense of those letters. Somebody ain't up to no good in Springsvale, that's for sure" She kicked her motorcycle into gear and revved the engine slightly. Tazel, you can read anything, right? I'll want your eyes on those letters ya old toad! she croaked to the demon bubbling away inside her.

GM Cord groaned and slowly opened his eyes. "What...what happened? Did something hit me?" he groaned, disorientated. For a moment his eyes were glazed, but they swam into focus after a few seconds. As they did, he caught sight of Gold lying beside him. Cord tried to get up, but was still too groggy. "Damn, I'm getting too old for this. I need to cash in my retirement plan. Get out of this cold. Go and live in Tahiti" he complained, before trying to rise, successfully this time. "We got Gold. I mean, you got him...good..." he said, surveying the damage around him. The pine tree was half shredded from Gold's explosions. "Now to call in the cavalry..." he said, bringing out a radio transmitter. Which had clearly been broken. "Seriously? Come on! Give me a break!" he said, throwing the broken transmitter aside. "We got to trek all the way back? My head hurts, and we have an unconscious living bomb with us?" he sighed. He pulled out another careful small box. Inside it was a syringe and needle. "At least this hasn't broken. I can keep Gold Sedated..." he shook his head from the cobwebs before looking at Jay, as if for permission. "What do you think? Can we make it back carrying him? Its a tough call, but I would rather have him asleep than having to risk taking him back when he could explode at any moment..."

Meanwhile... "Where are ya, ya damn lug! I'm no hero, I'm just a damn dog!" muttered the Hound, face full of cold sweat. He jammed another unlit cigarette into his mouth, forgetting the first one. He undid his tie nervously, then tightened it again. Then he thought of the Handman. Angrily, he pulled his tie right off his crumpled shirt. "Ain't wearing you today, yer piece of...hola!" he blurted, seeing a Dumpster whizz across the street. He cast his eyes in the direction it had came, and saw the Hound and Mess bounding a long. More by instinct than judgement, he turned the wheel, mounted the curb, and accelerated after his partner and his quarry. He clipped a hot dog sausage vendor on the way, and ended up with mustard smeared over part of his windscreen. "For the love of Holy..." he spluttered, spitting out his cigarrettes and ducking down so he could still see past the smear. The wheels spun, and he pressed on. Just not too close.

I guess Hound is just following the Mess, the Hangman, and the Dumpster in the Chevvy. Not too near though, kind of safe distance tailing. Not sure that would actually need a drive roll, but throwing one out anyways! 1d20+6=9 could get bumpy!

"Vampires! Holy Mary mother of Jesus! As if this city ain't got enough damn troubles!" cursed the Hound, throwing his half finished limp cigarrette the floor and stamping on it. Vexed, he immediately reached into his mac and lit another one. He sniffed the air. "Well, Bloodline, you certainly got a funky smell to you" he said. "As in, that kind of differently alive smell, like, err..." his eyes flicked to Lucy, he reddened, and flicked back to Bloodline. "Anyhowways, If you are a prophet from the future, sounds like that means you can stop all that end of the world stuff happening, right? right?" he encouraged, opening his hands imploringly. "So best of luck with that and everything! I'm off to find a cave and some garlic!" he said, wiping his brown and turning. The Mess caught him by the Mac, and, with uncharacteristic thoughtfulness, scratched his head. "I guess that means me and my partner here better save the world, yeah? Don't want no bloodsucking bozo's in this here City!" he explained. He stopped a moment, the veins in his massive arms crawling. "...they don't call me Bloody Mess for not nuthin' My blood, its like turbo charged, y'see....whats that gonna do to some vampire?"

"Zut Alors! Aliens!" said Rene with raised bushy white eyebrows. He drank another very liberal amount of wine and swished it around his mouth, sucking his gums in from the tannins. "Well, Aliens are quite the 21st Century" he replied. "I have lived over two hundred years, and seen many things, bleak, colourful, sad, joyous, and wond'rous. With so many years, patterns emerge, ze play is repeated, ze song is resung, a different beat, a different script, but the same pattern. Now then, what does shine with birth is ze universe! Why, some poor souls still believed ze sun circled ze earth when I was born!" he chuckled. "Maybe it still does, here!" he added thoughtfully. "It has a certain charm, ze notion, oui?" He finished his wine and actually licked his lips. "It matters not what race, there is only ze charming and ze tedious! And I quite like your dreams!"

GM The Doctor seemed pretty interested in his laser gadget thing, and in all honesty it looked pretty exciting. At one point he aimed it at the petri dish, and for a brief moment, Dancia could swear that a bacteria cell swelled to the size of a golf ball before popping and hissing. "That zapatron looks pretty powerful. Hey...did you just see that?" whispered Marcus to Dancia, perhaps a bit too loudly. Red lights flashed overhead, a klaxon ringing. "Intruder Alert! Intruder Alert!" spat the speakers. Dr Singh turned. A little slowly, in shock, bringing up his walkie talkie. "Security? Security? Can you read me? Is it...her?" he said, panic rising in his voice. Thanks to Darcia, there was no answer anyway. Just a hiss of static. "Oh no..." cried Dr Singh, backing into his Zapatron. "What's going on? That wasn't me...honest!" blurted Marcus.

GM Crack! Crack! Two more shots. Shots the King of Suits felt, and heard, and saw. Splintered masonry behind him, the snap of gunfire. The blood, the fear, even the hiss of wind as the bullets flew past. Carl was moaning, dribbling in and out of consciousness. Fear had gripped him, and the sweat, blood and confusion loosened his tongue. He started to babble, as if his life depended on it. Maybe, after all, it did. "The boss...he set me up...sent me here to kill ya, and now he wants us both dead. Its a set up man. Don't let me die! I don't want to die! please don't let me die!" The blood flow was stemmed, although it wasn't pretty. And at least there were no more gunshots. "You gotta help me, man!" grabbed Carl onto the King. "The boss, he used me to bring you here...set you up...want's the streets clean of capes like you..."

Stabilized, also: only need to spend 1 HP as that was heroic. You still have beginners luck feat active however.

GM Murqin hesitated for the longest moment, drumming his fingers against his gun. "I am the loyal servant of the Prince, my friend. He gave the strict instruction not to be disturbed...during his rest" he explained. "But you leave me no choice. My bullets are of no use here" he said, fully frustrated. "Just know, you are a guest uninvited. You break the rules of civilization" For all his skill as a Security guard, Murqin was no brainless thug. The man was smart, philosophical even. How loyal was he, precisely, to the Prince? Was it for gold?, was it for love? was it for faith? Down below, the Yacht was predictably ostentatious. Yes, there was the Jacuzzi. Yes, there was the bar. No tennis court, however. What was unexpected was the Princes medical suite. There he was, plumped up on a pillow, lines in veins, a pristine white room, small but clinical. Comfortable and cosy as a medical bed could be. What looked like a nurse, and, predictably, a pretty one, was attending him. She did not have the look of anyone from the middle east. Blonde hair, blue eyed, probably American. The Prince fluttered his eyelids as Asad, Morsi, and Murqin approached. "What...what is this? I gave instructions....I am not to be distrubed...." he said, weakly, with a mixture of shame and anger. Ah! Morsi! The Devil!" he said, pulling himself, with some difficulty, upright, anger winning over and inflaming him. "Calm down, sir, you must rest!" said the nurse, pushing him gently back onto his bed.

GM "Yeah sure, babe..." said Swish, not missing a beat. He nearly poked his eye out drinking his Slick and Swish, but he was damned if he was going to show it, even if his left eye wept tears and was becoming progressively more bloodshot. "Well, ya see, I do all types of business. A bit of this, a bit of that. A smooth operator, ya see? So, turns out one day, I got my hands on some special dru...vitamins. Well, the boss is real attached to his fighting pit bulls, ya see. Likes betting on them, when they fi...I mean, at dog shows. Yeah, real cute they are..." A little shudder was not unnoticed. His eyes darted across the casino to see if anyone was clocking them. "Anyway, I spot my self an oppurtunity, ya see? I get to sell the...vitamins...real discount to my pal, you see...and he gets to have his dogs all strong and healthy and ready to rip the fle...I mean, looking real swell for the dog show, ya dig?" he said, swizzing his umbrella around his cocktail glass. He had drunk the whole thing already, loosening his tongue and calming his shredded nerves. "Well turns out the...vitamins...they were extra strong you see? Which turned the dogs into rabid pumped up muta...I mean, it made their coats a bit too glossy, ya dig? Well, turns out the Boss didn't like his sweet ones so psychopathi...I mean, so glossy, yeah?"

Lord Steam groaned. Even with the smell of coffee and the gentle illumination, he was married to a hangover. Damned if he would let Blakely know about it though. Although, he conceded, Blakely clearly did. Tea for the morning. Coffee for the other type of mornings. Damned if he would confess, then. "Yes indeed Blakely. A most spiffy soiree. I dare say I shan't see its like for some time" he said, sitting up in bed and forcing himself to stand and stretch. He cut a fine figure, athletic build and Edwardian undergarments that stretched from ankle to wrist. He snatched the paper but the words hurt his eyes. He didn't put it down though, damned if Blakely would see that he couldn't read. Instead he supped the coffee. "I have a feeling today will be dandy, Blakely, just dandy" he continued, savouring the aroma and the incumbent stimulation. "On the subject of hunger, though, I must confess to feeling in the mood for a Full English, with all the trimmings" he said, stretching and bending his knees to get the circulation going. "And then, I shall crank up Bessie and try to find out about this intriguing gentlelady I happened to parley with last night!"

GM "Ever the soldier" sighed Rene as he watched Mona patrol. He was reminded of her Napoleonic uniform, the one she had worn when he first saw her. He turned his attention to the bar and ordered a red wine. How good would it be? He envisaged a claret, tannic, rich, and complex, hints of earth and mushrooms, hints of roses and hay. "Mother Unit?" he asked Daphne, wondering if she would drink the whiskey. "I have heard mothers be called many things, fair and foul, but a unit...that is ze new one!" he said, chuckling gently. "Still, her fear is not unfounded, and not totally unwelcome, I should imagine" "Mona, Henri...and my dear new friend...I would while away un hour, or maybe deux, to calm spirit and sup joy. But, tell me, what creeps in the shadows of this dream? Something ill, something malign? I think it is not us who shall seek it out, rather that it shall find us!" "And so, I hope to be found in ze best of spirits!" he said, saluting the ether and drinking his wine.

Quick notes: Biohazard suits give protection (hot, cold, radation environments, poison and disease). They also are bulky and slow, so reduce Notice rolls by 4, and a -1 penalty to attack, and defence. net effect...0 EP!

GM One costume change and an elevator ride later... The Suits were big, the suits were bulky, and they cut down peripheral vision badly. It did not take long to feel hot, it did not take long to feel stuffy. That said, they certainly felt like they were doing their job. The masks had twin respirator filters, long and bulky, and as far as the reporters could tell, they were completely air tight. The elevator brought them to the lower floor. All sorts of high tech research tools were here, some under construction. No expense had been spared. Computers blinked, test tubes bubbled, UV lamps shone. The latter was only visible to the super vision of Darcia, but it looked rather pretty, and probably cool, to her eyes. Dr. Singh was in his own Biohazard suit, experimenting on some petri dishes and a huge machine that pointed at them. The machine looked like a laser beam or something from a seventies sci-fi show, although it was clearly much more up to date. It was pointed directly at the microbes in the petri-dish, and Cancia could see various non-visible radiations pulsing gently at the dish.

1d20+8=19 uh huh!

GM Mr Swish gulped. He tried not to, but he did. He did his best to stop the crack in the facade, but thinking back to the Mob...and the involuntary gulp happened. "Hey, let me buy you a drink, and I'll tell you all about it..." Mere moments later, at the bar... "Hey! A double slick and swish! with an umbrella! my own recipe!" he said, taking two cocktail glasses from the barman, who sighed deeply, and handing one to Daphne. He had not asked what she wanted. The double slick and swish cocktail was a vivid purple colour, with a creamy froth on top. It almost glowed. It had a lemon slice, an olive, and a chocolate stick floating in the top, and came complete with a mini-umbrella. It was as if every cheesy cocktail had rushed into one cocktail glass and fused. "Well yeah, I got contacts, baby. Just so happens I know the boss of this place, real well. I let him borrow my Chateaux in France every year" he oozed, not making eye contact with Daphne. "Every so often I fly into Freedom City, in my private plane, to catch up with him, ya know, shoot some pool, play some cards" he sang, like a river of silky slime. "Yeah, well, thing is, I got into a bit of a...um...misunderstanding....with some of his dogs, ya know...not like the muscle head. His actual pet dogs. Guy really has a soft heart for them..."

GM Murqin Ali placed his hand back on his pistol, but looked unsure. Shooting a superhero was a risky business, to be sure. "Fission Chips?" he asked, furrowing his brow. "I don't know what you are talking about, friend. Morsi here, he did some work on..for...the Prince" he said slowly, his hand still fingering his gun. The three other armed guards were doing the same, but clearly waiting for Murqin to act. Keeping off looters and thugs from the Yacht was one thing. Keeping of a powerful superhero, well, that was another matter altogether. "I wouldn't let Morsi touch me with a pole" Murqin said to Amir. "Fission Chips, whatever you call them. The Prince may have trusted him, but I don't. Especially after the good Prince got cancer after..." He cut his words short. Clearly a degree of discretion did come with the pay packet. "But I congratulate. You found Morsi. Perhaps he can even help the Prince" he said, again using slow and careful speech. "But the Prince is...resting...below deck. I'll take Morsi to him..." he offered, hand off his gun and marching towards Morsi.

Edits done, thanks, and... APPROVED!

+3 defence flat footed, not +5? Mind Control Array looks like a 31 PP Array with 4 APs, which should cost 35 PP? Psionic Awareness, given that cost 2 PP base, would be 2 + 2 (Accurate), + 1 (Acute), +1 (Ranged) = 6 PP (not 7 PP). I am presuming this is a mental sense (and should be annotated as such). In this case Ranged just allows normal range (no need to annotate extended). You can buy Extended Separately, which maybe you have which would mean costing it at 7 PP as you have. Note this power is not radius (so cant detect psionic powers behind him).

Hey sorry to be a pain but my last post had Kahn below deck out of view I think, which is different from your post. How you want to play it? I can edit if need be.

"It is only shallow people who do not judge by appearances, Madam!" Lord Steam was feeling excited and curious about this lady, although spiced with some kind of fear. Which made him all the more excited and curious. "I am no great world changer, Ma'am. My engineering prowess is to sate my mind, to tinker. The same can be said of my deductive powers. I make a change to a few, but not to the many. 'Tis ignoble of me to claim I a good man. My talents, I use selfishly, painting on a small canvas rather than a large one" he explained with uncharacteristic candour. Candour served its purposes, at times, he reflected. "Why did you attend today? Not for the drink, nor the baboons either. Did you wish a war? was it pure politeness to respond to invitation? Or did you wish to make a study of a man?"

Various mechanical discussions blah blah blah various looks at UP and stuff blah blah blah. .... Now onto the story. The passengers are healed, Wave Eye is fatigued. Post away!