Supercape

GM "Thats okay" said Susan slowly, looking like she was having a hard time concentrating. Synapse could feel her anxiety levels rising - whether it was a psychic connection, or just an empathic understanding - or both - who could say? Mr. Smith stepped forward, gripping his briefcase tightly and...a trace of discomfort? or guilt? flicked momentarily through his face. "Miss Farington. I represent the Ministry of Powers. I need to ask you a few..." "Thats alright" said Susan, interrupting. "I haven't had any of my voices, and I haven't any of those powers. I don't want to join any team, or serve the government. Just like last time. I haven't got much of a life left, and I don't want to screw it up wasted on you...NO!" she finished with an abrupt scream. "I think its time we left" interjected Dr. Green. "Please, lets respect her wishes" she said kindly. "Susan, you are quite safe here, you only need to see people you want to, for as long as you want to..." Susan buried her head in her hands, and shook her head...

GM Susan sat on her bed, quietly playing a simple but beautiful tune on her acoustic car. The family resemblance was there, but Susan had a haggard, tired look. An aura of despair. "Hello Susan. This is the man from the Goverment. And here are your family" said Dr Green, sitting beside her and looking at her notes. "How are you doing?" she asked her gently. "I'm ok. Sleepy. Tired" she answered, putting down the guitar. "The medication, Clozaril...it helps but makes me tired" "I know Susan. It's the only thing that helps though" said Dr Green a little sadly "Would you mind if your family and this man talk to you?" she asked her patient. Susan nodded agreement, and so did Dr. Green. Susan looked at one person, then another, and smiled at them all. "I'm doing better...really I am" she said slowly. "The voices aren't so bad now..."

That is enough to disarm them all soundly. They may be mind controlled and armed to the teeth, but they are not skilled! For reference thats Velocity Fatigued 1 HP Foreshadow is up!

GM Lord Farrington stiffened but remained calm. Such was his way. "I don't need a lecture from you" he said. For all his faults, he was neither stupid nor incapable. Quite the reverse, actually. He may have been born into aristocracy, but he was also a talented man. "You can bore me some other day with your errant ways. Why, perhaps Mr. Smith here will be more receptive to the first play of a broken record" he said. He didn't stand up. He didn't quite look away, but he didn't quite look at Dee either. He was a black belt in social warfare. Mr. Smith remained impassive, unflinching despite the heat in the air. He didn't move a muscle. "I'm just here to assess the situation" he said. "Susan Farrington is a security risk. And of course I need to talk to Dee Farrington" he said, blanking the titles, and giving a professional grin at Dee. Doctor Green sighed. "Well, I would prefer if we saved the tete a tete for outside. Susan is making slow progress and I don't want any undue strain on her. Shall we go and see her?" she asked politely to all present.

GM With a furious glow, the submachine guns all whipped across the room, torn from the disbelieving hands of the terrorists. "What?" "Who?" "Where?" Came the shouts of disbelief, as the masked men looked left, right, up and down to try and figure out what was happening. The mysterious glow around the telekenetic that marched in was clue enough for their less than agile brains to put two and two together. They were well equipped though, one had to give them that. They carried back up knives and grenades, and started to reach for them...

COuld we have some initiative rolls please!

Then you hit them all! Yes its an opposed disarm roll: in this case I believe your bonus is double your Telekenesis Area Power Level... The Terrorists themselves are thugs archetype so have a +2 Bonus: 1d20+2=4 So you dont even need to roll!

No thats fine. Getting the plans for the Subways - which have old and disused parts, might be a little bit of a challenge. Lets call this a DC 15 Diplomacy check to get people to help you. With a +2 Situational bonus for any trained skill you have in Knowledge (Civics), Craft (Structural), and Gather Information. Of course, you get the basic plans with some digging, this is to get the old and disused maps lying in the back of a disused lavatory with a "Beware of the Tiger" sign hung on it!

GM Wiltmoor hospital Just outside London September 1st "Just a second ma'am..ill buzz you through" said the nurse. He was dressed cleanly and causally, middle aged but fit, with a pleasant smile. "Your father is here already..." he explained kindly as he lead Lady Dawn Farrington through the clinical and friendly corridors of Wiltmoor hospital. It was expensive, to say the least. But it was money that showed in the high level of staffing, expertise of said staff, and architectural beauty and function of the building. It was actually fairly secure for a hospital, but it hid it well. The grounds were expansive, and green, and the fencing discrete. "Susan..she is doing ok, you know. She still has some days where she is bad, but on the whole, she is making progress. She is learning to talk about and cope with her problems" he smiled, encouragingly. Further into the bowels of the hospital, outside the ward Susan was in, stood her Father, in consultation with Doctor Felicity Green, her psychiatrist, and a tall, bulky man wearing regulation agency suit and carrying an enormous briefcase that carried God knows what inside. A weapon? a bomb? "AH there you ah, m'dear" said Lord Farrington, stiffly, trying to contain his irritation at his daughter's appearance behind a stiff upper lip. "This man, Mr. Smith.." he said indicating the suit "...has come from the Ministry. They ah...were just checking up on your Sister. And you, I understand..."

She counts eight of them, all armed. They are spaced out evenly through the crowd (i.e. not together)

You can notice some of the stooges in the crowd pressing forward. They seem to be armed (grenades, guns) Given Velocioties Quickness, I am fine with her also reacting to that this round.

Which gives Graft an Initiative of 26, and fatigue for graft So onto Round 3 61 - Velocity - Fatigued - 2 HP 30 - Foreshadow - Fatigued - 1 HP 27 - ???? 26 - Graft - Fatigued - 4 HP 26 - Lady Brazil - ? Status 10 - Everyone else. And Velocity is up!

Incredibly: 1d20+3=22 they make it. 1d20+1=18 Initiative Could you roll for Ospreys Initiative?

"Gazooks!" said Harry, zipping back to human form and slapping his forehead. "I didn't expect to hear from you again" he said "but I'm sure glad you called. We could sure use a well paid...I mean an interesting job" he spluttered, words tumbling out of his mouth like a waterfall. "Heck, even if I do get shot at again. We are your people, Mr. Chen, no doubt about it! The Waterfront, Pier 11" he repeated and wrote on a notepad. "Consider us their already!" he said. He pulled on his Mac, despite the muggy heat. "Come on gang! We got ourselves a job!"

GM The city, even at this time of night, did not pause. It moved into action. The burnt out wreck of the Prince Edward was towed away, to the waiting arms of the police who started to debrief and thank the heroic trio, and settled down to the harsh and unforgiving task of interviewing the crew. Some would be arrested, some would be bailed, some would be let free, some would be imprisoned. In a hidden lair somewhere in Freedom City, Jared McGinnis pulled his wheelchair up to the broken body of the Freebooter, and started the arduous task of repairing the neck and body of the android pirate. "Crimson Tiger...Crimson Tiger...I won't forget this..." he muttered as he started the fine-tuned welding. Elsewhere, in lands unknown, the Devil Ray reported to OVERTHROW who were less than pleased with his performance. Wincing under their criticism, and stinging from their rebuke, he silently vows revenge on Tsunami, the water beast who defeated him. Finally, in the mid-Atlantic, the Admiral continued his journey to overseas, calling on the power of the Atlantean Ring that shone in his fist. Defeated by women! I shall be more careful next time...and there will be a next time...bolder, bigger, and sure to succeed! Next time, I will show them what I am really capable of! Next time, I will... He grinned, wickedly this time. ~ Fin ~

"Curse this damn heat! It's like Beelzebub has made it his personal mission to break wind in my face!" Harry was not a happy man. In a flash he was gone, replaced by the mongrol dog. Panting to let loose some heat, his eyes were still full of irritation. "Hot like this too..." he complained, his voice changed and gruff from canine vocal cords but still understandable. "When are we actually going to get paid for a job and get the air con back on line?" He asked the universe.

Tagged

GM "They do crawl out of there hole" replied fingers with a smile. "The idiots that are in the gang, anyway. Some even collect coffee and cakes from this very shop. As well as other shopping runs. But filth himself, he just runs the subways now. He is holed up down there. And his little pet demor rat too. I expect they have some master plan, but aside from trying to recruit to their army of incompetents, I don't know what it is..." "Of course information on that would be appreciated. As a broker of such whispers I cannot help but be interested. But what I really want is that rat. Filth and his gang can wait another day, I am sure" "If you can wait, I'm sure I can spot you one of his gang. If you fancy trailing them..."

Harry studied the goon in the van intently. He looked your classic mobster but the competent variety rather than street stiff. That gaze made him nervous. He could feel the slick cold sweat on his body, and he reached up to tie up, and loosen his tie several times. "Well, it looks good to me" he smiled, all bluff, as they climbed out of the Van. "I'm sure my boy is itching for some action" he explained, patting the lump of muscle that was his partner on the shoulder. Despite his short stature, the Mess looked mean indeed, and flexed his fists, pumping them up and down. He could already feel the fighters glaze, or focus, coming over his mind.

GM As Osprey watched, the confrontation got heated. First a push. Then a shove. The police officers started to back off, knowing the heat of the situation. There instincts, whilst correct, were not sufficient. It a flash, a gun was pulled. Then a sap. A knife. A knuckleduster. And then the beating began, sudden explosive, and dirty. The policemen where no pushover, but against these odds, two could not hold back five. The dockyard thugs were no strangers to violence - big - strong and possessed of a brutal thuggery blended with experience and skill. It was still dark, and the policemen had not been quick enough to raise the alarm... Nobody else had seen or heard anything. Nobody else but Osprey!

And I think thats a wrap folks. If anyone wants to post one or two more, to socialise or narrate the ending, please go ahead. Otherwise, I will soon (next day or two) post the Admirals Epilogue, wrap and lock! Thanks for playing! Any comments, critique or thoughts (including ongoing stories) please post them!

GM The waters of Tsunami had done their job. A few isolated fires remained, but were being tackled by the crew, who were grateful to be alive. Some had jumped overboard, some had been trapped. And those souls gave Tsunami a cheer. It would be difficult, if not impossible, to work out for sure the loyalties and culpability of the crew. They had all been fiercely loyal to the Captain - or rather, the Admiral. Some had military records. All pleaded ignorance. Even as the last fires smouldered out, the ship looked a wreck. It would be a fight to keep her afloat - and the fire damage meant that the Prince Edward had probably seen the last of her sailing days.

Well thats more than enough to get the drop on them, if and when you wish...

OOC for Short intro thread for Osprey

GM Deptford Docks, London August 31st, Near Midnight... The sky was not as dark as a costumed nocturnal crime fighter would have likes. The stars, and moon, where out in force. The summer heat was ablated somewhat but the Thames, swirling dark through London. The air was dry, and for many it would be a night of music and love. But not for Osprey. Smuggling in London was controlled by one man. The middleman. Who he was, nobody knew. Few even knew of his existence. But he had his finger in every pie. The gangs of London knew exactly who they had to go through to get 'product' in. Or, in some cases, out. And a major haul of drugs was coming in. The superdrug Max, by all accounts. On a small freighter docked in the pier, being unloaded by a gang of heavies. As Osprey looked on, he saw the five men being approached by two policemen, who started asking questions...