Supercape

Morsi concentrated, a moment, then another. Each time a brief flare of orange light beneath his skin, where the fission chips had been inserted. "So, now you know exactly what I can do, and it seems you are the perfect counter-measure. No doubt you will take me to some secret government research agency which will spend months if not years dissecting my brain for this technology. Perhaps literally dissecting..." "I do not claim to be a good man, nor a bad man either. I am a scientist, pure, and simple. But even scientists need to make money. I could, perhaps have been more wise about who I took money from. I am a Muslim, devout and true. And I did not feel able to take offers or money from the west. I do not condone terrorism, but I have no love for the West, who support Israel and drop bombs on us with impunity..." "And so I took money from nobility. Prince Amir Kahn. An oil prince, with more money than God, Allah forgive me. A man who professes to be of the faith and yet...carries on like some Playboy, women, drink, drugs I would guess. A man who thought he could buy his way into heaven by sponsoring me, giving the Muslim world technology that would surpass the West..." "And it is true, it is extraordinary. Except...also unhealthy. Having this much gamma radiation in your body poses a grave risk to life. Cancer, particularly. I am working on a method to counteract that...but..." he shrugged his shoulders. "My time is limited. Pancreatic Cancer. Inoperable. I have but a few months left. I would not spend them in some American Jail! I would rather die!"

"Ahm telling, ya that broad gets crazier and crazier" said Harry "the Hound" Hound, munching on a pretty low grade hot dog as he strode in. "She saved out asses from some serious whuppin, and she handles the accounts better than both of us put together. And hey, she;'s a pretty face..no no...jes being honest. Even if she, you know, differently alive..." Harry the hound had crumpled hair, crumples shirt, and crumpled mac. He even had a piece of gun stuck to his shoe. He looked nervous and wound up. In short, he looked like he always liked. His Partner was shorter, only five foot, dressed in jeans and a t shirt that fitted his form. He was a wide as he was tall, big spade like hands and muscles that looked like balloons with bulbous veins running down them. For all his unsual experience he looked pretty friendly, a big smile on his face. "Hey there Lucy! What have you got for us this time? A electric monkey? A zombie with a chainsawn?" Eddie "The Mess" Furlong liked watching bad movies. "Hey, who da hell are you?" he asked Bloodline, with a jabby finger that could have been used to hammer in da nails. "Shes with us! Dont ya lift a finger on a dame! he spluttered, almost a reflex.

Not M is gloriously unstartled (for reasons to become clear). Anyone up for something else or move to combat?

GM Smack smack! The two exterior cameras were out of commission, thanks to some super throwing by Dancia. The guards turned there heads to look up, and shouldered their weapons, on the look out for trouble. One kept by the entrance, the other moved outside. They stayed in radio contact, and with Dancia's super hearing, she could make out their conversation. "Check it out...could just be a malfunction" "Both at the same time? Some luck. I really hope its a malfunction" "Do you think...she has come back?" "How the hell do I know? Doc says she was so diseased it was a miracle she made it out of here at all. Lets just hope she dropped dead" "I hope you are right. She is...she was...pissed. Let the whole menu of biological weapons free in the ground level. Just glad we didn't work down there..." "...yeah, instead we get to stay for her encore..." "...stop thinking that bad karma, man. You think it, it comes true. Stay focussed. Get those Cameras back up!"

GM Mr Gold shrieked in pain and shock when the acid jumped onto him. There was a horrible corrosive smell in the air, and not just of burning cloth. "You dog!" he screamed, patting at the acid to no avail. "Not even Spetznas use acid! Not even the worst of the KGB interrogators!" he shouted, before his eyes focussed on Blue Jay with pure rage. "I was...holding back...I believed that there was something in America good, to protect. But to hell with that! I am Ground Zero. Agent of Russia! Pupil of the Sleeper! Long live Russia! Long live Russiiaaaa!" And with that came the brief moment of sucking, stronger, chaotic, and unstable. This time, Gold foldied his arms out like a crucifix, and a massive detonation of energy streamed from him, his eye burning with energy, an impossible force gouging out the air and rock around him.

Ok so he is putting everything into a last furious blast, using extraordinary effort to exhaust himself, and create a damage 19 burst! So that is a DC 29 Reflex Save to avoid, or (if failed), a DC 25 Toughness save.

GM The muscle tightened his grip on Mr. Swish's arm, eliciting a yelp and a plea. "I'm gonna rip yer arm clean from its socket, ya dirty no good...oh pardon me Miss..." grunted the goon, as Ms Grue interjected between the two of them. For a moment he seemed torn...between tearing an arm of now, or tearing it off later. "Honeycheeks, yer got some sweet sweet lips on yer. Yer know I gotsta bust this guy up, for da boss, ya see. Its business." he explained almost apologetically. He took in the full length of Miss Grue, savouring her curves. "Godammit, I don't know how I miss someone like you working the joint. You got class baby, and grit too. I'm gonna buy you a drink when you get off shift, ya know what I mean. Yeah, you and me honeycheeks..." he said, licking his lips and giving her a wink. He seemed to have forgotten about Mr Swish who was still held in his simian grip, although it seemed to slack as his attention wandered.

GM "The Sleeper? Nobody knows about the Sleeper. Just rumour, just hearsay...haha...but he is real, I know that..." replied Blonsky. "You can read my mind I am sure. So I will save you the bother. THe Sleeper always makes sure he is never seen, never heard. At least not directly. Precautions against mind readers" "The story is, back in old USSR, they had a telepath. A mind controller who took his work seriously. Nobody ever knew if could actually control minds or if he was just a brilliant scientist, a brainwasher as you say. My guess, is he was both. He put secret agents in places all over the world. And the beauty was, they did not even know they were secret agents. But with the right trigger...bam! They became fully operational agents of Russia!" "After the fall of the USSR, the sleeper went to sleep, as the joke went. Until our friend the Doctor revived him. " "Him, I have met. A product of superior Russian Super Soldier Serum, from cold war. Deadly, devoted. Brilliant doctor of medicine himself. But completely stuck in the ways of communism. Not like modern Russia. We adapt, we survive..." "THe Doctor used his only formula to create our Athletes. You see the results? Impressive, no? But useless too...serum also lethal. Not good for soldiers, but for a few weeks to bring back our glory...very good. The Doctor saw that, at least!"

GM The crackling of energy was fierce and furious. Initially, Morsi glowed in resistance, a bright purple-green blaze that swept across Asad's arm. For a moment, a standstill moment, the two of them locked, Morsi's coherent energy form and Asads arm. But in the tug of war, Morsi was outmatched, and inexperienced. Crackling defiance all the time, the energy dimmed, pulsed, and dimmed, and was slowly sucked into Asad's body, volt by volt, watt by watt. In the last little spark of energy, a fizz was heard, and lines of glowing orange light stretched back to the inert body of Doctor Morsi on the floor. Each line whipped towards one of the several chips he had implanted under his skin, which also glowed faintly... And then Morsi was gone. And flesh and bones Morsi sat bolt upright, as if electrocuted. "How did you do that! So much power? Impossible! Impossible!" he blabbed.

Perceiving invincibility, Morsi will not dodge, and takes the "hit". 1d20+4=12 Means he is down 13 PP. From the looks of it your drain power seems to be all energy powers at once? (I would make note of that in your next edit if so). In which case I am going to essentially rule that the alternate form container goes bye-bye (largely because its simply to much of a hassle to do otherwise!)

"Why if it isn't wee little Angnus all grown up now! I remember you as a little girl, singing on me lap and asking for another wee tune!" he said, smiling with joy as he recognised. "Tell me know, didn't you go sell out and go to London? Singing some songs and whatnot? I hope you let them know that yer Uncle Strings taught you everything know!" he said, and sat down to strum out a tune, beautifully played, terribly sung. "Lucy Diamond, in the skies, in the fields Everywhere a Diamond, glittering in greens Glittering in Snows Where she came from, nobody knows Wild was her hair, wild was her song, Wild has the power within her... All that she touched, lost senses lost reason All that she kissed lost mem'ries of seasons A plagues of madness fell upon all Some fled for days, some fell for ladies And may fell rageful for all war and violence which never faded Lucy the lovely, Lucy the cold Lucy her madness will lay down the bold Ah Lucy the lovely, Lucy the cold, Lucy the madness will... "Ahs shut your bladdy fracking mouth, Strings!" says Charlie Conrag, the group elder, who threw an empty tin of lager at Stevies Strings head, which bobbed off his head and saved repetition of glorious out of tune singing. "Well, Lucy liked it, thats for sure. Didn't so much as touch me, but everyone else, they turned mad. Some quick, some fast, some short. Before you know it, the whole place was abalze, people fighting, people running. Like pandemonium, it was!"

Could we go for a sexy bluff roll there? DC 20 - the guy is pretty loyal and angry, but a sweet smile will buy some time.

GM "My cover was shred one way or another. Where were you going to take me, I wonder? What sinsiter outfit would vivisect my body and brain to get hold of my fission chips? Still, it matters not now. Either I use these to transform lives and the world, or I die with them. I will not have them missapropiated by secret services or private princes, particularly not the United States!" he said. Amirs fist move through his incorpreal radioactive body and accumulated an impressive glow. "See? You cannot harm me, not in this state...I have left my body behind..." he explained, pointing at the comatose physical body of Dr Morsi, still glowing from several points where the fission chips had been embedded under ship skin. "I, on the other hand, can hurt you plenty. My body is magnetised plasma!" he said, and reached out with grasping hands to plunge his arms through Amir.

Carmen groaned. From pain partly, but from something deeper. There it was - an open door to freedom revenge, and quite possibly obliteration. Whatever I do, I'm going to be screwed...which ever way I turn, its a bad turn... .... ....Then do nothing... It was as crazy a thought as any. Non action was not an excuse. One had to diffuse a bomb if it was going off, not just stand there and say "I didn't plant it". That was the easy way out. But, on the other hand, where had her fighting spirit got her? Nearly killed her, nearly killed John Perdentine. Tazel silent, either killed or taken over by some other entity. And she all she had done with her intererference was throw fuel on the fire. It was not her nature to sit still, and thats what they were playing on. So she sat still. If nothing else, to defy her nature. She gritted her teeth, screwed her hands on the bedroom sheets into knots, fighting against the will to act. Patience, patience, patience... Just see what the Doc has to say...

Done. You notice several security cameras around the entrance and inside the building. All seemed to be controlled by the reception area where the two guards are.

GM The building had a pretty low level of security outside - just wire fencing that it looked pretty easy (and was pretty easy) to climb under. Dr Singh had a laminate ID card that allowed him to get into the building via a swipe system. The laboratory building was average sized, two floors, glass and steel, large grounds. Using her X Ray Vision, Dancia could see a basement level, and plenty of security scanners everywhere. "Keep your eyes open. Our ex-employee may be back..." said Dr Singh to the two security guards in reception, and all three looked nervous at the prospect. The security men seemed on edge and extremely well equipped - with state of the art submachine guns, grenades, and gas masks. More akin to an army unit than your security officer. Despite the distance, Darcia's super hearing could pick up what he said. "Sweet Mother Lane, what are they doing in here? Building a nuclear bomb?" hissed Marcus, following her under the perimeter fence at Darcia, pointing at the two armed guards. "I knew the heat was on them, but it looks like they are preparing for a riot!" "We are so going to get our asses busted if we get caught, you know? So...better not get them caught. Yours is far to pretty to get caught!" he winked at her. "Still, I don't know how we can follow the Doctor in there, not with those guards and all those cameras..."

Rene nodded, familiar as anyone was with the dreamlands. Of course, as the old saying went: if you think you understand the dreamlands, you don't understand the dreamlands. "Suggestions depend on what the aim is. Escape to the land of the waking? I am sure it can be easily achieved, but only puts off what may come the next eve, when slumber arises again. My suggestion is to find out what seeks us, and for what purpose. And in the meantime, to stay alive!" "i do wish we landed on something more charming and artistic than a western set, however" he sniffed. "Mayhap you yanks like it, some kind of sweep for collective unconscious guilt over slavery and conquest" he said, not without a gentleness. But what he said did concern him. The unconscious was the oil for the flames for dreams. He was thus somewhat concerned. "What seeks us then, and to what purpose? Perhaps we should have a drink and a round of questions at the bar? All westerns have bars, don't they? with the swinging doors?"

GM Marcus squirmed at the order. For all his love for Dancia, his reporters nature made that hurt. "Ouch! Well, if you throw in another date, its a deal! A proper one this time, and no backing out!" he said, grabbing her arm and leading her out of the restaurant. He threw more than sufficient money at the waiter and gave him an easy going smile and a wink. Nodding at Dancia in a gentlemans conspiracy. "Gotta take this one home, cant keep my hands off her!" he said suggestively, giving a less seen wink to Dancia to play along. Outside they hailed a cab and started following Singh with the classic line "Follow that car!", accompanied but yet very immodest amounts of money. "Right you are son, sure can do!" he said, laughing at revving up the engine. It was not long before it was apparent that Singh was heading back to his lad, which seems to have been boarder up and shut down. Still, they left their cars and climbed through the wire fence saying "Do not enter, biohazard!" a claim they clearly thought was preposterous. "I wont lie. Darcy, this looks all kinds of wrong, but I think we have to follow them. This is going ot be dangerous..."

Post that away, and then Morsi will try to touch you again: 1d20+10=22 I think thats another DC 25 Tough Save?

No worries Tiff that sounds good. Ill jump in with the twosome at some inopportune time!

If this is dream related, I have to throw Rene in (and/or Deadbeat)

Kippers, Capers, and Horseless Chariot Races Charles Blakely’s Diary 17th May, 2014. M’lord Lockwood arose early today, full of vivid enthusiasm, more so than normal. A clear sign of when his passions are inflamed is the consumption of kippers for breakfast. Today, he devoured three, and with only the very barest of mastication in doing so. Alas, such consumption ‘oft leads to the embedding of fish bone in M’lords throat. T‘would appear M’lords vexation is on a most peculiar case, even for his unusual ichor. I press not for elucidation, and yet I am pleased to say his lordship chooses to banter about cases with my humble self. And, dare I say it, I am not absent of suggestion or usefulness in these matters. 19th May, 2014 I drove his Lordship to the scene of the crime today. He has been asked to investigate murder most perplexing. A young woman, newly betrothed, found strangled. Her husband, a man of significant wealth and power, is not keen on his Lordships involvement, a fact that aroused suspicion promptly dulled. He has two cast iron alibies at the Gentlemens club of the evening, who swear he was there at time of death. His Lordship is a polymath of most impressive learning and intellect, and yet he is not a man of medicine (although I daresay had he followed that path he would have made an excellent one). He did not perform post mortem examination himself, I am pleased to say, for it always disquiets a Christian Soul to see the dead from their proper grave, and proper rest. But I am lead to understand that the particular method of murder, that of strangulation, allows one to accurately determine time of death. 20th May 2014 Despite a reputable alibi, his Lordship did not rest on the matter of newly wedded and bereaved husband. It would appear that his instinct bore some fruit. His Lordship was a man of considerable appetites in regard to sexual proclivities, including, as the euphemism goes, batting for the other side. Far be it from me to express shock or moral indignity at such activity, I am too old to judge, and my time in the army opened my eyes to the variation in wants and needs that beat in the heart of every man. Besides, his Lordship himself is well known by rumour, and in deed by fact, to freely pass affection in nocturnal activities, and not only to members of the fairer sex. But regrettably such inclination is not free from shame, or without social ripples. The husband of the victim had, it seemed, been blackmailed by his new bride, who had procured most sturdy proof of his desires, and that they had occurred after matrimony. Understandably, she was engorged with furious mist, and had sought revenge through extortion. And, as surely as domino falls after domino, it seems that husband may have sought solution by extinguishing her life. 21st May 2014 The alibi is false! His Lordship is a genius when mechanical devices both regular and novel are considered. He had examined the clocks at the sedate gentleman’s club where our suspect had frequented. Tampering! A clever but effective trick, to speed the passage of time on clockwork piece, and recover it in early hours of morning. It had appeared to said honest Alibis’ that ‘twas earlier in night than truly it had been. And fingerprints of such tampering were recovered! It would seem now that the net is closing. 22nd May 2014 What day ‘twas! I drove his Lordship to residence most luxurious of said suspect. There, as his Lordship delights in doing, the evidence was presented. To startling effect! “The game is up, Sir!†demanded his Lordship of the murderer, who went white with fear. His gabbling soon turned to desperation, as he fled with all pace. We both set after, as two men, and ‘twas well we did. Suspect had procured a handgun and fired at his Lordship and I. A lucky escape for me, but not so for his Lordship, who had a nasty wound to his leg. We both drew revolvers in response. I have come to carry one, I confess, as life in his Lordships service often draws such drama. And I was glad I did today. Hampered as we were by his Lordships injury, which bled in unnerving manner, we could not catch our quarry before he had reached his horseless chariot. A sleek modern one, by my reckoning, although such styles do not appeal to my Victorian eye. The nature of the car our quarry had stolen, expensive, sleek, and with rumbling engine, reminds me of the writings of Doctor Freud. Our own vehicle, named Bessie by his Lordship, who also had the wit and ingenuity to build her, was a far more stylish affair, with sparkle of lining and much more sturdy architecture. It has a magnificent side horn, and wond’rous steam powered engine. As it transpired, it was equal to the suspects inelegant and gauche sports chariot. And so the chase was one. His Lordship hobbled into Bessie, and requested that I drive. “Tally ho, Blakely, take the wheel! Do England proud!†As it happens, and the Lordship is aware, I am quite fond of driving horseless chariots. In the army, I used to the first models used for troop transportation. Quite an advance on riding or perambulation, I should say. Whilst I am not a professional chariot racer, I dare say I know my way around the wheel and the motor better than most, and in this case, better than our quarry. As his Lordship pressed hand boldly to leg, to stench flow of blood, he urged me on. “Faster! Faster!†“Such velocituous propulsion vexes me, I cannot garuantee his Lordships safety!†I complained, although confess now, to these pages, that such speed did tickle my heart and veins. “Embuggerance to safety!†replied his Lordship with uncharacteristic profanity ill suited to his station. Still, the pain of his wound and the thrill of the chase must provide excuse. At his request, I increased pressure on the engine pedal. And, though peril surely ensured, I do believe that said pedal brushed the metal beneath it. Crack! Came the carefully aimed shot of his Lordship, a well placed bullet that shredded tire of quarry. He promptly lost control and for one heart freezing moment, I feared he might toll and cause most dire injury to himself and others. But instead, he spun, and came to rest, white knuckled, and pliant of mood. Twas then but formality, arrest by local men of the police force, and surely, conviction to come. A day full of excitement and danger, a day will come again, and indeed oft occurs with Lord Lockwood. Days to be feared, days to be savoured too. For it is only in times of danger that one feels most alive. Perhaps, whilst I enjoy the luxury of Steam Manor and its trimmings, I have never really left the army. I am too old to march and fight like I have done, but my position in Lord Steams Service seems to suit most handsomely.

Well, he isn't even trying to avoid getting hit, so it hits! (Defence is +8 for reference) So as he has insubstantial 3 (energy), the energy form takes no damage. On the flip side, its a cracking burst of radiation to Asad (A damage 10 radiation aura) so DC 25 Toughness save, just enough to overcome his impervious. On the flip side again, the energy is enough to charge up his absorption array. Post away.

I think being snared would not stop a burst effect, as it's all a king of wave of healing emanated from you, so that ok. But at the end of the day it's your call, perhaps he needs some magic hand movements!

I believe the King of Suits is encrusted in Barnacles! Although an Area effect seems reasonable. On the other hand, those flaws are pushing it. Stunting a power with the flaws Distraction (When I am borderline not in combat), and Limited (Not the damage I want to heal anyway) is edgy. I can let the Distraction one pass in the spirit of heroic saving, but in all honesty cant let the non-fire damage one pass (as it should be a drawback any way, and on the principle it is difficult to justify limitations and drawbacks for stunts which basically say "limited to the situation I am in anyway").