Supercape
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GM "That's a good idea..." said Cord, stamping his feet and hugging himself. A light snow was falling - fortunately without a wind, but still...it could get damp. "I'm cold, I'm tired. And so is our quarry, I bet. I don't want him freezing to death. But then, I don't want us freezing to death either. I don't want anybody freezing to death..." he explained. He looked up at the crystal clear sky. A refreshing change from Freedom City. This far north, you realised what clean air was. And what dirt clogged up Freedom City. Any City, come to that. "We wont get much darkness this far north, at this time of summer. A fire would be good though, just to warm the bones..."
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Well I would ask for a Survival roll at this juncture for "Getting on in the wild" / finding shelter, etc. But seeing as you would automatically make it... Feel free to narrate any cave, fire lighting, etc within reason (ie anything DC 20 or above, which is not an awful lot!)
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"A year and a day. It's a date" replied Carmen, wondering what to make of Nikki, but knowing she would be there. "And next time, Ill ditch the motorcycle and bring a tank. Come to think of it, you can bring the tank. You seem to have a trick or two up your sleeve, and I'm sure Axel will enjoy playing with it" she smirked. "Now, my little problem is our mutual friend Tazel. You probably know he doesn't like the hallowed ground of churches much. If we end up back in one, he is likely to get ejected. Which is unpleasant. Especially if he is in me. So I guess he isn't firing me up this time..." she said. "That ain't so good. Without the little devil, I bleed like anybody else, I'm not as strong. But I guess them's the breaks. Whenever you are ready!" she smiled, half grimace.
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GM No sooner was the paper signed than it was scanned, emailed, and whisked away to the massive bureaucracy of the British government. Fate sealed. Then, Smith showed her a file on crab. "That's what we have on him" explained Smith. "As for the reports on the other three, fairly unremarkable three months. Lucy Diamond erratic as ever, Dderwen continuing to retreat to the wild, and Champion, well. Faithful as ever, but he was losing the will to fight by the end. Getting old, maybe" said Smith shrugging with his jaw but not his shoulders.
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Sorry Thev, made adjustments. I am open to suggestions re plan. Mess is just going to warm up. Lucy and the Hound might come up with something?
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Damn it. Trust a broad to give me the slip... In a flash he grew back to the crumpled human detective, who stuffed his hands in his pockets in irritation. Stamping his feet slightly he marched back to Lucy and Freddy. "No deal with the perfume" he explained. "Although i wont forget that brand in a hurry. Just one isolated snatch, a mere whiff, by the scene of the crime. Beats me how that happened. Maybe some teleportation thing. That would certainly be a handy trick for stealing" he mused. "But its a dead end deal here. I suggest we see what strings we can pull, see if anybody might know anything about fencing this. Cant be easy to lug around something as valuable and heavy as an antique statue"
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GM The Filth gang did not, it must be conceded, recruit the finest calibre of thug. The scrawny rake carrying the starbase coffee, pizza box, and parcel did his best to look mean and tough but without significant effect - no matter how hard and nasty he glared at the commuters. He would hardly have noticed Kit if she had worn a bright pink t shirt with "I am Kit" written on it. He slipped through the tunnels and rails, going deeper into the belly of the subways - and out of the main arteries that carried customers. Soon, he had reached some disused maintenance tunnels and was whistling a tune to keep himself brave. The light was dim and low here - emergency power only. Rats crawled in their dozens along the floor, but all avoided the skinny youth. "Hey, Filth, I got;s the package! where are you?" he called out, a little nervous.
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Meaning Graft is up!
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Both of you are not blinded! Glow is up!
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The Mess flexed his muscles with irritation. He was still fighting a battle in himself - his love for fighting and his shame that welled up about his past. Waiting around was not going to do him any good. "Man, I need to hit something..." he grunted, slamming his fists together. "Well save it for the ring, big fella" said Harry, giving him a playful jab to the shoulder which the Mess hardly felt. "Besides, its gives us a shot at sizing up the opposition - if you are third up. And we got time to kill, so get lefty and righty warmed up, and get your pugilistic eye on the fights before you, huh?" he said, encouraging his partner the best he could. "Because if this is the next level, I think you will have more than a street stiff to fight..."
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The Hound is going to see if he can pick up the scent of that perfume and follow it. Taking 20 if possible, and using tracking supersense.
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Harry shrugged slightly. It was, he figured, a neat theory, but it had plenty of holes in it. "Well, Mr. Chen, don't you worry. The Bloodhound Detective Agency can crack anything!" he said, full of sales pitch rather than confidence. The stakes were high, but, he reflected, this wasn't the toughest case in the book. "Right then..." he said, cracking his knuckles once Mr. Chen was out of sight. Without fireworks, Harry was gone. "Woof woof" said the Hound, a mongrel breed of everything that was in his place. Although he was quite capable of barking in dog form, he still enunciated his speech as "woof". "Right, lets see what the old nose can pick up..."
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"Or it could be..." said Harry, pausing slightly for effect. "Somebody wants to add to their collection" "That would be right, huh? I can only imagine that both of the pair, together, would be far more valuable than one on its own? Nothing for certain, of course, its worth a huge amount of cash anyway. But we might start looking at people who collect extremely expensives relics of this kind. And, of course, people who fence them..." he considered, a few names and rumours flying into his head as he spoke. He tugged at his shirt slightly. "And of course we could see if our..ahh...ummm...specialist canine companion could pick up any scent to follow" he said, wiggling his eyebrows at Lucy and Freddy and wondering how he could slip of to change without arousing any undue suspicion.
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GM "I thought you would become magnificent" said Lord Farrington, sad but firm. "Of course, that covers a wide variety of virtues. And sins" He turned heel and left, a slow but steady gait of an older man with iron in the soul. Mr. Smith appeared to have ignored her father. He merely glided himself and his ward, Dee, out of Wiltshire hospital into a regulation black limo which was clearly armour plated and secure, with blacked out windows. The driver was not even visible as they got in. He did a good job though, a smooth and sleek ride. Mr Smith dumped his impresive case beside him and kept a hand on it firmly. The limo has several document files and a laptop. "First things first, Miss Farington. Welcome to the Ministry of Powers..." he said sliding her an official secrets document and a pen. The document was clear and unambiguous. She would be bound for the rest of her life not to reveal any government information designated "secret".
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1d20=5 Penalty applied and resolutely failed. Post away!
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GM The two women - Ana and the Mayors Wife, were inspecting the elaborate masks away from the jeers and cheers of the crowd. Foreshadow could vaguely make out there conversation. "These masks...are they the cause?" asked the Mayors wife. "I don't know...they look fabulous..." said the hypnotised voice of Ana. "We should try them on..." they both said eagerly as Foreshadow approached. Even as they spoke, the two bodyguards of the Mayor and the Mayor himself both fell to the floor, sleeping soundly. A scream from the crowd followed, although it was not clear if it was fear or excitement and quite probably, it was both.
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"Barricades? How does that work?" asked Carmen, hand across body and folded up to tap her chin. "Ectoplasmic Bricks? or something more subtle?" She understood about half of what was going on, by her reckoning. And to be honest, she was pretty pleased with that meagre fraction. "Its buying time, I guess? Which is good..." She doubted that half of the family would want to stay cooped up in an old house for long...especially if they didn't quite believe the curse. "But I think we need to reverse the curse, huh? What about the person who started it all..."
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Leaving a trail of blood behind him, the Mess slithered into action - moving at a remarkable pace, the little creature oozed on the sidewalk, and up the side of the building. "I got ya, mister!" he blubbered through bloody lips. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied the runner. Looks like a guilty man to me. Damn Perp - but I gotta save this guy... The man was whipping away at a blistering speed. He would be hard to catch, even if he had the time and the energy. Reaching the struggling man, he leant out to take the weight off the man. Even in his dimunitive state, Bloody Mess was pretty strong. Of course, he was also messy...the mans legs oozed into Bloody Mess', and soon he was splattered with flecks of super powered blood!
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Ok So Mess is going to whip up the wall (Wall Crawling) and hold on to the strangulated Alvarez, hopefully taking the gravity off him to stop the choking. Unless of course the Noose is magically constricting!
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GM Mr. Smith's tone softened just fractionally. "Of course, madam" he said, deferentially, with a concrete smile on his face. "I have a car waiting, as a matter of fact. We can be at the ministry in under thirty minutes..." he said, in defiance of London's traffic problems. "I say there. Is this all right and proper?" interjected Lord Farrington looking concerned. "I mean, I know my daughter here got the more agreeable end of the stick when..." he paused, implying but not saying the experiments he put them through. "...but I don't want her exposed to any danger. You understand?" he said, his voice wobbling slightly. "That is her decision, Sir" said the cold voice of Mr. Smith's, whose loyalties appeared mercurial to the tune of necessity. He showed Dee towards the exit of the hospital. "The Vanguard members all have detailed files" he explained. "I can even call them up in the car...once you sign the official secrets act, of course..."
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"Goddamit to hell...another sucker with an empty wallet needing a helping hand..." cursed the Hound, who craned his neck to look up at the action. From the looks of him swinging from a rope, he could really do with a helping hand. Literally. He thought to himself, his irritation fading under the cold horror of the sight. He ducked down behind the wheel, and in an instant, was replaced by the mongrel shaggy dog that often lurked around the agency. "Woof bloody woof" he said in his gutteral human voice. He leapt out of the window, barking ferociously, to run to the building.
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So Harry will duck down in the car, and transform into a dog. Whilst this is technically a free action, I would guess its a move action to duck down in the car and be unseen? Standard Action, run to street level below the noose.
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The Mess took in the familiar and not so familiar sights of the boxing gym studiously. He may have had a few to many knocks to the head to have the smarts of his partner, but he sure knew his boxing. The Hound took his "man" up to the Registration desk, mentally puffing up his bravado like a blowfish. "Fernando the Furious!" he said with all the confidence he could muster, and giving a theatric two handed show of hands to his partner. Freddy just frowned. "Damn Stupid Name" He muttered barely audibly, under his breath. "Never mind the name! See the skill of a trained fighter in the peak of physical condition!" said Harry, squeezing Freddys arm, which was thicker than most mens legs. He wiggled his eyebrows in enthusiasm. "What competition will we be having today? I don't want my man spoiling the show by knocking them down too fast!" he said, pushing his luck for a hint.
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GM "Damn it!" shouted one thug who accidentally clobbered his mate with a cricket bat. The force of his fist sent the man flying, and Osprey was pretty sure he felt the tell tale crack of ribs under his fist. The man sank like a sack of potatoes when he hit the ground. The other four thugs stopped, assessing the man on the ground and their inability to touch the masked crusader. "Stuff this!" said one, throwing down his gun. "The middleman ain't payin' enough for the Osprey!" he said, before turning heel and running off, closely followed by his three friends. In the dark, the man Osprey had downed groaned in pain, still flat on his back and firmly incapacitated.
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1d20+2=8 He is out! At this point, to spare us the rolls of beating up four PL 2 Thugs, they will pause and scarper. If you want to give chase or throw an Osprey-rang at one or two to stop them, take it away.